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I can pinpoint is my mind nearly every moment of complete humiliation in my life. There were many of them. Often I still shudder at the thought of them, even though decades have passed. They occurred at school, college and university, and later even at work.

Once, it involved me completely misunderstanding a question and thus blurting out a response which resulted in relentless ridicule for the next three years. On another occasion, I proved myself to be so immature and simple-minded in front of so many people that it seemed I had only one way out.

At others times the feeling of humiliation came not from anything I had done, but merely the interactions of others with me. A passing remark from a stranger, or old friend, or arch enemy. Comments about my appearance, or an interpretation of my behaviour, so messed up.

But above all, my biggest humiliation was my diagnosis. That’s how I feel. In truth, most of my humiliation through the years could be linked to this condition in some way, but nothing prepared me to be associated with this diagnosis and all the misinformation that surrounds it.

Which probably explains why I blasted a friend today, as he made a jocular comment about my physique. “Don’t make fun of me,” I growled. “I have a health condition just like you.”

My reaction took him by surprise and he quickly fled. When we later caught up, while I was with another friend, he laughed, “I must be careful about making a joke, lest he think I’m serious.”

In a better mood, I might have laughed along. No, but my self-image has been bothering me for weeks now, compounded by a visit to the doctors on Monday for a health check. Everything is out of whack. This probably explains the glum melancholy which has descended on me so suddenly.

On the one hand, I accept that this is how God made me: that what I have been bestowed with is no accident, even if from a clinical perspective it is considered an error of cell division.

But acknowledging this fact does not diminish the feeling of humiliation at all. Yet here too I must acknowledge that these feelings are part of my provision. Perhaps, despite myself, there is some kind of blessing in these feelings.

Could it be that with complete humiliation comes empathy with the downtrodden and oppressed? Could it be that it changes your whole perspective on life? Could it be that it makes you a champion for others who are likewise being humiliated by community and society?

In the end, yes, my humiliation was a gift from God. How much better to be grateful for what I have been given, than forever bitter and full of rancour. How much better to rise above and overcome. Perhaps from humiliation we may discover humility.