Diagnosis wasn’t fun. The months after diagnosis were not fun. Life was hard to adjust to. At home, I felt like a new set of chores were loaded on to me and I didn’t really understand why. They told me, “high blood sugars can damage your body permanently”, but I didn’t feel damaged.
I couldn’t easily do sports: when I went to swim practice I had to leave the pool every 20 minutes to take a handful of skittles to stay at a stable level. I felt so exposed every time I did that: it was like a walk of shame. I had to walk with a bag everywhere that matched absolutely no style. It felt like an actual ball and chain for a while, a symbol of imprisonment. Even at home I didn’t feel myself. I couldn’t sneak chocolate bars anymore from the pantry because they were full of carbs. Like I’ve said many times before, I was being dramatic: life was still very livable, but it was so different it felt like I was being restricted.
Many diabetics early on feel this way: young or not. It feels like everything is getting taken away. It can feel unfair and µ. Eventually I got to the point where I could say to myself: “it is what it is. It’s really, really unfortunate, but I can manage, so I must.” I accepted it, and powered through, even if deep down it made me insecure or hurt sometimes.
Every year, it got better. The longer I’ve lived with diabetes, the more it has seemed less like a disability and more like a part of me. It has influenced my growth to an incredibly deep degree; there is no chance I would be half as mature as I am today without my diabetes to force me to make good decisions, and grow up. Today, sometimes I even hesitate at the thought of curing my diabetes if given the chance, given how much it has changed me. I would be a different person without it. Even though it still hinders me today, it doesn’t feel like it because I have built my life around my disease so it is easier to live with.
Nowadays, I tell people what I truly believe: Type 1 diabetes, ultimately, is not a horrible disease. It is one of the most common illnesses in America, and as a result, gets billions of dollars in research funding in America. On top of that, it’s entirely treatable, unlike many other illnesses. Finally, compared to other illnesses that destroy the brain, or ensure death, like cancer or degenerative mind disorders, we can live relatively normal lives. Almost everyone has something that makes life difficult, but we get the benefit of having a treatable disease that doesn’t genuinely restrict us from doing things and is the top priority for a lot of scientists in America. It could be a lot, lot worse.
Growing up T1D 