Do you remember that feeling of being an extremely small fish in a very, very large pond? I think everyone goes through this at some point. Going to 'big' school, or uni, or starting a new job are some that spring to mind. I know I've been there, done that all before. What I didn't expect, however, was how big the 'pond' of the online diabetes community would be.
It's huge. Some of it's more helpful than other bits, that's true, but there's still lots and lots of it. I've found some amazing stuff, and come across some people that really make me feel optimistic. But as is the way with me when I come across a community like this one, I want to be a part of it. I want to have my say. I want to try and get creative. But the problem that comes to me is that being a tiny fish, I'm not sure that anyone is necessarily interested in what I've got to say - and what do I have to say that hasn't been said before anyway?
I think really, it's all a matter of finding your feet by stepping in the footprints of those who've walked ahead of you. Or, without sounding utterly pretentious, seeing how those who do it well do it. Having access to the internet is a wonderful resource, and personally, I would hate to have come into this before the internet was about. There's something extremely comforting in knowing that somewhere out there is an account from someone who's been through whatever you're going through.
This is useful for me. I won't ever get this time back again, and knowing how I feel right now might well be beneficial for me to look back on 1,2,5,10 years down the line. I don't know whether I'll ever write something that's useful to somebody else, but who knows? I do hope, though that I'll be able to forge friendships with some of the great people that I've come across so far. Because, well....they're great. (Redundant statement is redundant, I know)
In other news, I have made the realisation that, quite frequently, Rob Lowe looks like he's made out of wax.