I was twelve when my life completely changed forever. One minute I was a healthy sixth grader, and the next I was dropping weight so fast my skirt wouldn’t stay on. I was just constantly tired, constantly starving, and so thirsty it hurt. I’d sneak out of class to get water because the teachers didn’t believe I needed to go again. I would often eat two dinners, once at my friends house and then again later in the evening with my family. I didn’t know what was happening.
I lost 20 pounds in about two weeks. One morning, my uniform was so loose, I asked mom to tighten my school uniform skirt. It was literally falling off me. Mom was a nurse, you see, but I was always covered up in my clothes or uniforms. When she saw how much I’d lost, she paused, looked at me, and without saying much, booked a doctor’s appointment. No panic, just quiet urgency. Looking back now, I realise she probably knew before we ever walked into that office.
We went straight from the doctor’s to the hospital. No stopping at home, no pitstops, and definitely no spin-the-bottle game I had been planning with my friends after class (yes, I remember that detail very clearly…these are the injustices that stick with you when you’re twelve). The doctor even used a Monopoly reference to make it sink in: “Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Go directly to the hospital.” And so I did.
The Diagnosis
That day I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. To be honest, I didn’t totally understand it at first. The word “diabetes” felt foreign, and I didn’t know what it would mean for my life yet. But I started learning fast. Finger pricks, insulin injections, food tracking. Constant monitoring. Constant adjusting. And back then, you had to do it all manually. None of the continuous glucose monitors or pumps I rely on today.
There were moments of embarrassment, especially at school. Having to leave class to check blood sugar, not being allowed to give my own injections without the nurse, or hearing another kid say “Ew, get away from me, my grandma has diabetes.” That kind of thing sticks with you when you’re young.
But even more than the logistics, the diagnosis shifted my sense of identity. I went from carefree to hyper-aware almost overnight. Every decision suddenly had consequences. Food wasn’t just food. Exercise wasn’t just fun. Sleep, stress, hormones — they all had a say in how I felt day to day. And I was expected to manage it all, even as a kid.
The Part Where I Rebelled
In my teens, there was a stretch of time where I just didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t deny the diagnosis exactly, I just ignored it. I didn’t check my sugar as often. Took shortcuts with my insulin. Pretended I could be “normal” if I just pushed it to the back of my mind.
Of course, that doesn’t work. Ignoring diabetes doesn’t make it go away, it just means you’re doing damage without noticing. Luckily, that phase didn’t last too long for me. But for some, it does. And in some cases, it becomes dangerous.
There’s actually a newly classified eating disorder that is becoming more prominent among teens with diabetes, called diabulimia. It’s where people intentionally run their blood sugar high to lose weight. The mortality rate is terrifying. It’s a reminder to always check in on young people who have recently been diagnosed.
The Part I Wish I Knew Then
I wish someone had told me that having a chronic illness doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you different. And different, can be powerful. It teaches you to listen to your body, to advocate for yourself, to tune in when other people tune out.
I wish I’d known then that this diagnosis would actually give me strength, not take it away. It would teach me empathy. It would prepare me to advocate for my children later, through diagnoses and hospital stays of their own. And it would one day connect me to a whole community of people who get it in a way no one else can.
The Habits That Have Stayed With Me
Even now, decades later, I still go out walking nearly every day, when my RA allows it. That habit started in childhood, thanks to my parents’ avid walking habits. It’s one of the simplest but most important tools I have for managing blood sugar, pain and stress. I also always keep sugar on me and by my bed. I prep for everything, because living with Type 1 has taught me that planning ahead is half the battle.
I also rely a lot on the power of positivity in dealing with my diabetes. It might sound simple, but words of affirmation when you suffer chronic illness can make all the difference.
And most of all, I continue to speak up. I’ve learned that you have to. Whether it’s to a doctor, a pharmacist, a teacher, or your own inner critic — advocacy starts with knowing your body and refusing to be ignored.
