First of all, I’m diabetic. Type 2 to be precise. If you blame me, go fuck yourself.

I was raised by narcissists who wouldn’t feed my brother or I. Who wouldn’t take us to regular doctors visits and who withheld knowledge from the doctors of family diseases so they wouldn’t have to pay for any extra tests for school physicals. I moved out after I saved up enough for an apartment when I turned 18. Spent a while working two full time jobs and eating quick meal garbage because neither job provided a lunch break. I didn’t care because I was young and figured I could handle it for a while until I got myself situated. It’s not like they were sedentary jobs either. I walked 2 miles to and from work each day and spent all day on my feet. I started getting too sick to keep at it. Dizzy spells, falling asleep on the job, constant nausea. I would find out a year later, when I started having extreme thirst and was sleeping 16 hours a day, that I was suffering from extremely high blood sugar. Just after my 20th birthday I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. I was told I was likely pre-diabetic since around the age of 11 based on the time periods of other conditions I described. Something that my grandmother expressed concern about because of certain symptoms, but my parents ignored. Had I been diagnosed at that point there’s a chance I could have taken measures to stave off the full disease. More than likely not given my home situation, but one can dream.

If I’m to be blamed for spending almost two years eating like the average young adult then I repeat, go fuck yourself. I know a whale down the street in her 60’s who has been overweight all her life. Since, she doesn’t have diabetes no one says a word to her. Me? I deserved it, clearly. A slightly over weight 20 year old totally deserved to have their life ruined.

Bitches that love running around telling me I have no right to complain because your kid was diagnosed at like -1. I’m sorry your kid has type 1. I’m sure it’s awful for them. I’m sure it’s even more awful to have a parent that loves them enough to get angry for them. It must be terrible to have a mother that goes out of their way to try to make low-carb desserts because they feel guilty about this burden placed on their child.

You know what my mother said when I told her I was diagnosed with type 2? The woman that bought soda, over-priced water, and cigarattes, leaving her kids with a single box of ramen for food most of the time. She told me that she tried to warn me and my brother, who is an athlete, that we needed to eat better. The one who provided our food… said I should have eaten better.

“It’s your fault for not taking better care of yourself.” “You had a choice, my kid didn’t. Live with it.”
Fuck you. I live with it every damn day. It and every other issue that it brings with it. I hope you live to a ripe old fucking age, fall, break your hip, and no one comes to find you.

I’m so angry at constantly being blamed for my diagnosis. For constantly being looked down upon when I just wanted to get away from the bullshit and thought that I still had the time to. I knew I would be diagnosed some day. It runs rampant in my family, but I thought I would at least be in my 40’s. I have now dealt with this for 6 years and have already been told I’m insulin dependent. My husband and I expressed a desire to have a baby to my endo. I wanted to know what it would take if our goal was to get pregnant in two years. How could I try to be responsible and prepare myself for it? I got a cringe and no real answers.

You’re precious fucking baby isn’t the only one who has had their life ruined by this disease. Also, I don’t give two shits that “type 1 and type 2 are COMPLETELY different.” I still have to stab myself multiple times a day. I still have to calculate every fucking thing I eat. I still have trouble controlling my numbers. I still have to worry about highs and lows. I still have to worry about my eyesight. I still have to worry about neuropathy. I still have to go to so many doctors visits. I still can’t in good conscience have a kid without worrying about what will happen to me, or is it fair to them. Fuck you, you goddamn whore bitch. Every single one of you that blames me or any others like me. Take your fucking high and mighty opinions and shove them straight up your asses.

It’s not my fault, but I’ll deal all the same. That’s what I do. Sorry, not sorry.