My 24th Diaversary

My 24th diaversary shall be known as…the one I almost forgot.

My diaversary, which falls on Christmas Eve, has never been something that I actually actively celebrate because I’m always too busy celebrating the holiday season with my family. And that’s exactly what happened this year: I was living in the gift of Christmas present (there’s a pun in there, I know) rather than reflecting on that fateful one 24 years ago.

My 24th year of living with diabetes…my, how time flies when you’ve got a broken pancreas and robot parts on the outside of your body.

It feels fitting, really, that I didn’t remember my diaversary until a couple weeks after it came and went, because this Christmas Eve was extra special in a different way. It was the first significant holiday since the pandemic hit that my entire family could be together. And I mean my entire family – I saw both my mothers’ side and my fathers’ side, and even my big brother was able to come home from Nashville for the week. So I was spending the holidays really rejoicing in the fact that we were all able to safely see one another for the first time since Christmas 2019, rather than dwelling on my diabetes diagnosis.

After all, it’s the people who surround me that make something like diabetes manageable. My supporters – family, friends, partner, dogs – are the ones who motivate me when I’m experiencing diabetes burnout. They’re the ones who let me cry on their shoulders when diabetes is too much. They’re the ones who high-five every diabetes triumph that I experience. They’re the ones who remind me that my life is not defined by diabetes (despite how much I talk about it). So with that in mind, I can get behind doing what I did this diaversary: celebrating them instead of my diabetes for every Christmas Eve to come.

My 23rd Diaversary

My 23rd “diaversary” (anniversary commemorating the date that I was diagnosed with diabetes) is tomorrow. Yes, that also happens to be Christmas Eve.

I was four years old when I was diagnosed with diabetes…so I don’t remember life without it. I’m not the type of person who gets overly emotional when sharing her diagnosis story because it’s just a foggy memory to me. So what is the significance of my diaversary to me?

It’s two-sided:

On the one hand, my diaversary is the day that my life changed forever, that I had something taken away from me, that I lost a “normal” childhood.

But on the other hand, it’s representative of the day that I was given something that gave me strength, independence, and courage unlike anything else in my life has ever given me.

I choose to focus on that latter part.

I’m not exactly grateful for diabetes itself, but I can’t deny that it has given me some very valuable things.

I don’t want to mourn the day that I was diagnosed with a chronic condition, I want to celebrate…and the fact that it coincides with Christmas Eve, a day that’s very special to me and so many others, is sort of beautifully poetic.

So rather than dwell on 23 years’ worth of insulin injections, fingerstick pokes, doctor appointments, and carb counting, I’m going to think about how all of those things have molded me into the person I am today: A person who has refused to let diabetes get in her way of the things she wants in life.

My 21st Diaversary

Today, Christmas Eve, is my 21st diaversary. That right, my diabetes is officially “legal”. You can bet that I’ll be celebrating with a special shot tonight – and no, I’m not talking about the insulin kind of shot.

Last year, I wrote about the sheer joy I felt as I hit my 20th diaversary. While I certainly do feel joyful this time of year as I greet another diabetes milestone (and because I’m wrapped up in the spirit of the season), I also can’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

The fact of the matter is, I’ve lived with diabetes for 84% of my life. And that’s a hard pill to swallow.

Happy birthday to you!
A birthday card to my diabetes.

I dream of a single day of normalcy. I want a day in my adult life in which diabetes isn’t at the forefront of my mind. Sure, I had just over a thousand days like that in my childhood…but the thing is, I don’t remember them. So they don’t count.

What I would give to have a solid, 24-hour stretch in which I don’t have to feel pricks from needles or hear buzzing, beeping devices. I wouldn’t have to feel as anxious about my blood sugars as I do on most days, and I would eat whatever the hell I wanted without a care in the world.

It sounds like a small ask, one day without diabetes, but at this stage in the game, it’d just be miraculous.

So on this day that is doubly special to me, I’m accepting that I feel a bit more negative than I did last year. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it feels good to admit it, rather than force myself to write a bubbly blog post that simply celebrates 21 years of diabetes.

I’ll celebrate my own way today and enjoy the most wonderful time of the year, knowing that my little diabetes funk will pass on its own.

With that said, dear readers, I wish you a fantastic Christmas. Spend the day doing whatever brings your hearts happiness, and remember to take care of yourselves.