Psychologist Anna Heal

Elias, your experience is deeply human, and what you’re feeling isn’t just about diabetes-it’s about how this diagnosis has reshaped your identity, confidence, and sense of belonging. The shame you’re carrying isn’t a reflection of your worth; it’s a natural reaction to the way society often ties health to morality, as if food choices equal personal failure. But here’s the truth: diabetes is a medical condition, not a character flaw, and the way you’re responding-avoiding meals, isolating yourself, snapping at students-suggests this shame has become a heavy emotional burden. Let’s break this down into steps to help you reclaim your confidence and connection with others.

First, it’s important to recognize that your brain is stuck in a cycle of anticipatory shame. This is when you fear judgment so intensely that you start judging yourself preemptively, assuming others are doing the same. The irony is that by avoiding meals with colleagues, you’re reinforcing the belief that your eating habits are something to hide-which only deepens the shame. To disrupt this, you’ll need to gradually expose yourself to the situations you’re avoiding, but in a way that feels manageable. Start small: maybe bring a snack to a staff meeting and eat it without apology. Notice how others react (or, more likely, don’t react). Most people are far too wrapped up in their own lives to scrutinize your plate. The goal isn’t to prove anything to them; it’s to prove to yourself that your fears are likely exaggerated.

Next, let’s address the self-criticism that’s eroding your confidence. You mentioned snapping at students, which suggests your internal dialogue has become harsh and unforgiving. When you’re stressed or tired, that critical voice gets louder, and it spills over into how you interact with others. Try this exercise: write down the things you say to yourself about your diabetes or food choices-like ‘I’m weak’ or ‘I failed’-and then ask, Would I say this to a friend in my situation? Probably not. Start replacing those thoughts with neutral or compassionate statements, such as, ‘I’m learning to manage a new health condition, and that takes time.’ This isn’t about forcing positivity; it’s about rebalancing your self-talk so it’s fair and grounded in reality.

You’re already doing great work with journaling and meditation, but if the shame feels ‘stuck,’ it might be because these tools aren’t directly targeting the social anxiety tied to your diagnosis. This is where therapy could be incredibly helpful. Specifically, I’d recommend looking into Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). CBT is highly effective for shame and anxiety because it helps you identify the distorted thoughts (like assuming others are judging you) and replace them with evidence-based perspectives. It also includes behavioral experiments-like testing whether people actually notice or care about your food choices-which can be liberating. Another option is Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), which focuses on accepting uncomfortable emotions (like shame) without letting them dictate your actions. ACT would help you reconnect with your values-like being an engaged teacher and colleague-even when shame tries to pull you away.

It’s also worth considering whether group therapy or a support group for people with diabetes could help. Hearing others share similar struggles can normalize your experience and reduce the isolation. Sometimes, shame thrives in secrecy, and simply realizing you’re not alone can lessen its power. If the idea of a diabetes-specific group feels too overwhelming, a general social anxiety group might be a gentler starting point. The key is to find a space where you can practice being seen-not as someone with diabetes, but as Elias, the teacher, friend, and person you’ve always been.

Finally, let’s talk about your professional life. Teaching is a demanding job that requires emotional presence, and it’s no surprise that your confidence has taken a hit. The good news is that confidence is a skill, not a fixed trait, and you can rebuild it through small, consistent actions. Start by setting tiny, achievable goals in the classroom-like answering one student’s question with patience, even if you’re tired. Celebrate those moments. Over time, this will help rewire your brain to associate teaching with competence again, rather than self-doubt. If you’re comfortable, you might even share with a trusted colleague that you’re working on managing stress and health changes. You don’t have to disclose details, but opening up a little can ease the pressure of feeling like you’re carrying this alone.

To summarize, here’s where to focus: challenge the shame by testing your assumptions, soften your self-criticism, consider therapy (CBT or ACT), and rebuild confidence through small, intentional actions. You’re not just managing diabetes; you’re managing the emotional fallout of a life change, and that takes time. Be patient with yourself. The fact that you’re asking for help shows how much you care about reconnecting with others and your work-that’s a sign of strength, not weakness.