I Knew I’d Hit Rock Bottom When The Thoughts Changed
For me, the sign that I’d truly hit rock bottom wasn’t a huge upset. It was a shift in my thinking.
Every other thought had become some version of: I’ve had enough of living.
I was lashing out at people I cared about. Drinking heavily. Trapped in a vicious cycle that felt like a living hell with no visible exit. I wasn’t just burned out from managing my diabetes — I was burned out from being alive while managing it.
That’s the extreme end. And I’m sharing it because I want you to understand what happens when the early warning signs of burnout go unrecognised and unaddressed for too long.
Because burnout doesn’t start there. It starts quietly, much earlier, with symptoms that are easy to dismiss, minimise, or mistake for something else entirely.
What Makes T1D Burnout Different From Ordinary Tiredness
Everyone gets tired. Everyone has periods of low motivation, difficult weeks, times when they’re not managing everything as well as they’d like.
T1D burnout is different. It’s the result of sustained, relentless pressure from a condition that never gives you a break — compounded, usually, by months or years of self-blame, shame, and the impossible expectation of perfect control.
It’s not tiredness you can fix with a good night’s sleep. It’s a deep, systemic exhaustion that affects how you think, how you feel, and how you relate to your own condition.
And because it builds gradually, most people don’t see it coming until they’re already in it.
6 Burnout Symptoms to Catch Now
1. You’re avoiding checking your levels — and you know why Not forgetting. Avoiding. Because you can’t bear to see the number. Because if it’s high you’ll feel like a failure, if it’s low you’ll feel like a failure, and even if it’s in range you’ll just be anxious about it moving. When checking your levels starts to feel like an ordeal rather than a routine, burnout is usually already underway.
2. You’re going through the motions but the light has gone out You’re still doing everything — checking, injecting, counting. But it feels hollow. Mechanical. You’re present in body but somewhere else entirely. The motivation that used to drive careful management has been replaced by a kind of grey, flat compliance.
3. Every number feels like a verdict on you as a person A high reading doesn’t just mean your blood sugar is high. It means you failed. A low doesn’t just mean you need glucose. It means you got it wrong again. When the emotional weight of each reading becomes disproportionate to what it actually represents, that’s burnout talking.
4. You’re lashing out or withdrawing from the people around you Burnout doesn’t stay internal. It leaks outward. It shows up as irritability, anger that seems out of proportion, or a gradual pulling away from the people and things you used to enjoy. If the people who care about you have started noticing a change — or if you’ve noticed yourself retreating — pay attention to that.
5. The thought “I’ve had enough” is coming more frequently Not necessarily suicidal thoughts — though for some T1Ds it reaches that point. But a persistent, creeping sense of exhaustion with the whole situation. “I’m so tired of this.” “I can’t keep doing this.” “I don’t know how much longer I can manage.” When those thoughts become the background noise of your day, burnout has taken hold.
6. You’ve stopped talking about how you’re actually doing Not to your diabetes team. Not to your family. Not to anyone. You’ve learned to say “fine” when people ask. You’ve stopped telling the truth about how heavy it is, either because you don’t want to be a burden or because you’ve given up on being truly understood. This silence is both a symptom of burnout and one of the things that deepens it.
What to Do If You Recognise These Signs
First: acknowledge it. Name it. You are burned out — not lazy, not weak, not failing at your diabetes. Burned out. That distinction matters.
Second: tell someone. Not just a vague “I’m struggling a bit” — the real version. Your diabetes team, your GP, someone you trust, or someone who has been through it themselves.
Third: lower the bar temporarily. When you’re in burnout, trying to achieve perfect control is petrol on a fire. Give yourself permission to do the minimum. Check once a day instead of not at all. Take your basal even if you skip everything else. Re-engagement starts with the smallest possible step.
Fourth: rebuild your routines in small pieces. Break them down. Simplify. Set alarms. Let apps, reminders, and calendars carry some of the decision-making — decision fatigue is real, and outsourcing a bit of it gives you room to breathe.
Fifth: make space for something you actually enjoy. Pleasure isn’t optional here, and joy doesn’t make you less responsible — it makes you more you again.
Sixth: consider getting proper support. Burnout at the level I’ve described doesn’t usually resolve on its own. It needs to be worked through — the emotional roots of it, not just the surface management. If you want that kind of support from someone who has been where you are, I’m here.
When to Seek Urgent Help
If your burnout has reached the point where thoughts of not wanting to be here are frequent or intrusive, please speak to your GP today or call Samaritans on 116 123. This is serious and it deserves serious support. Please don’t wait.
It’s Okay to Rest
No guilt, and no shame. Rest is not a luxury — it’s your damn lifeline. And a bit of dark humour and sarcasm along the way isn’t denial — it’s how a lot of us stay sane. It doesn’t mean you’re not taking it seriously; it means you’ve found a way to thrive alongside the condition instead of just surviving it.
Diabetes burnout isn’t a one-time thing — it can cycle back. But once you recognise the signs, you take back the reins.
Final Thoughts: You Deserve Better
Burnout isn’t your fault. But your healing is your responsibility — and you have everything you need to start.
If you’re ready to start reclaiming yourself, I’m here for you. You’ll be surprised how much you’ll gain.
You’re not lazy. You’re just bloody exhausted. Let’s fix that.
Until next time,
Pete
