5 Years with Type One Diabetes

The last five years of my life with type one diabetes have felt like one major juxtaposition. I have felt both invisible and like the center of attention; I have felt like I am both on top of the world and carrying its weight on my shoulders; I have felt both alone and like I am part of something bigger than myself; I have felt both hopeless and hopeful; I have felt both helpless and like I am a human wrecking ball; I have felt both like a blazing fire that is getting brighter, and like one that is burning out.

I look back to the person I was before my diagnosis, and I do not recognize her. I have said many times that diabetes does not define me, but it really does. It dictates everything I can do, how far I can go, and how I can get there. Multiple diagnoses I have received in the last five years have put me through so many metamorphoses and forced me to shed so many layers of skin I thought I would be able to wear forever, and each rebirth has put me through pressure and self-doubt and grief and hopelessness that I never could have imagined having to experience. And yet, I survived it all.

Sometimes what I have to do to stay alive threatens to kill me. Sometimes it threatens to crush my spirit, sometimes it threatens dreams I have had since I knew how to dream, and sometimes it brings a shadow over me that I cannot shake for months no matter what I do. But I am not scared of the dark. It is only when the sky is dark that you can see the stars.

When I used to say that diabetes does not define me, it was because I did not know how to say that it does, but I am still okay. It does, and I am still here. It does, and my life is still good. I cannot just ignore how often it knocks me out. Because if I ignore that, then I am also ignoring how often I get back up. Diabetes throws me against the wall, and I am the one who gets back on my feet, brushes myself off, and keeps going. It’s hard, and it’s awful, and it’s endless, and it’s suffocating, and I hate it, but I keep going. I keep trying. Because it’s the only thing I know how to do. To fight and to continue and to try. And I cannot invalidate how hard it is to do that. I owe it to myself to acknowledge that I struggle, because then I can acknowledge the strength it takes to carry on despite it all.

I don’t know how my life will change in the next five years. I don’t know how things will evolve. I don’t know where I’m going or how I’m getting there or who I will be when I do. I don’t know much, but this much I do – I will keep going. When it is bright, I will bathe in the sun and spread its light as best I can. And when it is dark, I will look up to the stars.

I wrote a song about diabetes burnout for National Diabetes Awareness Month back in November of 2021, which you can listen to here. It's called The Star.

Stay strong and keep fighting 💙💙💙