Life has a way of flipping everything upside down when you least expect it. One minute, you’re living life the way you always have, and the next, you’re told that everything is about to change. That’s exactly what happened to me when I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes.
The Signs Were There—But I Didn’t See Them
Looking back, my body had been trying to tell me something was wrong for a long time. I had been passing out a lot, but I brushed it off. I figured I just wasn’t eating enough, not drinking enough water, or maybe I was just too hot. I was working out every morning before work, running miles on miles, but despite my consistency, I wasn’t losing or gaining weight. It didn’t make sense, but I pushed through it, thinking it was just part of life.
Then, one day, I passed out at work. It was a hot day in the gym, so I assumed it was just the heat. I never once thought my body was actually shutting down. Even after passing out multiple times, I still didn’t have answers. My doctors initially thought something might be wrong with my heart, so they gave me a heart monitor to track what was happening. Along with that, I was given a Freestyle Libre to monitor my blood sugar. At that time, I had no idea diabetes was even a possibility—I just thought we were ruling things out.
Then, on the very first night wearing my monitor, my blood sugar dropped into the 40s. That’s when we knew something was seriously wrong.
Everything About My Daily Routine Changed
Before my diagnosis, I would sometimes eat once a day—maybe a big meal, maybe just something quick, and I’d call it good. Now? I feel like I have to eat all the time just to keep my blood sugar from tanking. It’s a complete shift from how I used to live, and honestly, it’s exhausting.
I also can’t just go for a run anymore—not without bringing something to bring my blood sugar up when it inevitably drops. Running used to be my escape, my way to clear my mind, but now I have to plan around it. I can’t just lace up my shoes and hit the road for five or six miles. I have to bring glucose tabs, a juice box, or something, because my blood sugar can—and will—crash mid-run.
And then there’s my Dexcom. I know it’s there to help me, but it still embarrasses me when it goes off in the middle of class. The loud beep makes everyone turn around, and I have to explain that no, it’s not a phone call, and no, I’m not getting a Snapchat notification—it’s my phone literally telling me I need sugar now. It’s one of those little things that shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
The Lows Are the Scariest Part
The worst part of all of this? The lows. When my blood sugar drops too low, it’s terrifying. It feels like my whole body is shutting down, like I’m losing complete control. My hands go numb, my legs feel like they aren’t even mine, and my brain feels like it’s in a fog I can’t escape from.
But what’s even scarier is when I don’t realize how bad it is. There have been times when my friends have had to physically force a juice box into my mouth, making me swallow the juice while I was actively fighting them. And the worst part? I had no idea I was even doing it. It’s like my body is fighting everyone, including the people trying to help me. It’s embarrassing. It’s frustrating. And it’s honestly terrifying to know that, in those moments, I’m not in control of myself.
The Reality of Being 23 and Exhausted
As someone who loves going out, hanging with friends, and being active, one of the hardest things about this diagnosis is just how exhausted I am all the time. It’s draining to constantly monitor my blood sugar, make sure I’m eating enough, and adjust my life around something I never had to think about before. I want to be able to go out and have fun without worrying about whether my blood sugar will crash in the middle of the night. I want to feel normal, but most days, I don’t.
A Different Kind of Diabetes
One thing that makes my situation different from what most people expect with Type 2 diabetes is that my blood sugar is usually very low—it almost never gets too high. Because of that, I don’t use insulin like a lot of other diabetics do. Instead, my biggest battle is keeping my sugar up rather than bringing it down. People assume that diabetes always means you have to avoid sugar, but for me, it’s the opposite—I need sugar to keep myself functioning. It’s weird explaining that to people who don’t understand, and sometimes, I feel like I have to justify what I’m eating or why I need a juice box in the middle of a conversation.
Hiding My Dexcom
One of the things that embarrasses me the most is having my Dexcom stick out. I hate how visible it is. I wear a lot of long sleeves, even when it’s hot outside, just to keep it covered. It’s not that I’m ashamed of having diabetes—I just don’t want the constant questions or the stares from people who don’t understand what it is. It makes me feel like I’m walking around with a giant neon sign saying, Look at me! I have diabetes!
Explaining Diabetes to the Kids I Work With
One of the more unexpected challenges has been explaining my diabetes to the kids I work with. Kids are naturally curious, and when they see my sensor, they always have questions. The biggest one?
“Can I rip it off?”
The first time a kid reached for my Dexcom, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I had to quickly explain, No, no, no—you can’t take that off! It’s kind of like a sticker, but it helps me stay healthy.
Then came the inevitable question:“Will I catch it if you touch me?”
I’ll never forget the moment a little girl looked at me, wide-eyed with fear, and told me she didn’t want me to touch her because she thought she could catch diabetes like a cold. My heart sank.
Another question?“Did you eat too much sugar growing up?”
That one always stings. There’s such a huge misconception that diabetes is just a consequence of bad eating habits, but it’s so much more complicated than that. Trying to explain medical conditions to kids? That’s a challenge in itself.
Looking Up to My Sister-in-Law
If there’s anyone I look up to through all of this, it’s my sister-in-law. She has Type 1 diabetes, and I know that what she deals with is ten times worse than what I’m going through. But the thing is—I’ve never once heard her complain about it. She handles it with so much grace, strength, and resilience, and it gives me hope that I can do the same.
Finding My New Normal
I’m still learning how to balance it all—how to manage my blood sugar, how to explain my diagnosis to people without feeling like I am my diagnosis, and how to navigate the emotional ups and downs that come with it. Some days, I feel strong. Other days, I feel overwhelmed. But at the end of the day, I refuse to let this define me.
Yes, diabetes is a part of my life now. But it’s just that—a part. It’s not all of me. And every day, I’m learning how to live my life on my terms, not on diabetes’.
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