Growing Up with Type 1 Diabetes: When It Becomes Part of Who You Are

I sometimes wonder what little Ellen was like before type 1 diabetes. 
The funny thing is… I genuinely don't remember.

Some of my very first memories begin on the day I was diagnosed. It's almost as if my brain drew a line in the sand and said, “this is where life starts now”. Maybe my gut knew something huge was about to change.

Growing up, it often felt like it became the first thing everyone else saw too. I always joke that when my sister came home from school she'd get asked, "How was your day?" Whereas I'd walk through the door and hear, "How were your blood sugars?"

Now, as an adult, I completely understand that every question came from love and concern. My family just wanted to know I was okay. But as a little girl, it could be frustrating. I wanted someone to ask me about the spelling test I had or the silly joke my friend told me at lunch before asking about my diabetes. Sometimes I just wanted to be Ellen.

As I got older, that feeling only grew.

Being a teenage girl is complicated enough without adding carb counting, insulin calculations and the constant pressure of keeping yourself alive into the mix. With the way diabetes was portrayed in the media and the amount of misunderstanding from people around me, I honestly felt quite ashamed of having type 1 diabetes.

I found myself constantly explaining that I hadn't caused it. That I couldn't have prevented it. That it wasn't because I'd eaten too much sugar.

Around the time continuous glucose monitors started becoming more common, I refused to wear one. I must have been about sixteen, and I was absolutely determined that nobody would know I had diabetes.

I'd literally rip my CGM off before going to the cinema. The cinema! Sitting in a pitch-black room, wearing a hoodie, convinced someone might somehow catch a glimpse of it and judge me.

Looking back now, I want to give teenage Ellen the biggest hug. She spent so much energy hiding something that was never anything to be embarrassed about.

Thankfully, life has a funny way of surprising you. 

Beth and I had been close friends for years before her diagnosis, so when she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, my emotions were all over the place. First and foremost, I was devastated for her. I knew exactly what she was about to go through, and I wouldn't wish those first days on anyone.

But if I'm being completely honest… and Beth knows this now, there was also a tiny part of me that felt delighted. Not because she had diabetes, of course. But because suddenly, for the first time in my life, someone truly got it.

It's every girl's dream to have a best friend who understands you without needing an explanation, and overnight I had exactly that. Someone who knew what a hypo felt like before I even had to describe it. Someone who didn't blink when alarms went off or devices needed changing. Someone who understood that sometimes plans have to pause because your blood sugar has other ideas and still loved me and enjoyed spending time with me despite it! I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

For the first time, I didn't feel different. 
I didn't feel alone. 
I felt understood. 
And honestly? It changed everything.

The Diabetic Duo was born from that already amazing existing friendship, but it's become so much more than two best friends making videos online.

It's completely transformed the way I see myself. 
Where I once hid my diabetes, now I celebrate it. 
Where I once ripped devices off before leaving the house, now Beth and I joke about making sure our Omnipod® 5’s are on our "good side" in photos because it’s basically our favourite accessory. 

Who would have thought? 
The girl who used to panic about someone spotting a sensor in the dark now happily poses with one front and centre.

That's not because diabetes suddenly became easy. Far from it. There are still frustrating days. There are still tears, unexpected highs, stubborn lows and moments where I wish I could have a day off. But I've stopped seeing my technology as something to hide. Instead, I see it as something that helps me live the life I want.

The Omnipod® 5 works quietly in the background while Beth and I focus on making memories, travelling, laughing until we cry and sharing our journey with a community that reminds us daily that none of us are doing this alone. And that has completely reshaped my identity.

If there's one thing I'd want anyone reading this to take away whether you have diabetes or not, it's that the things we spend years trying to hide often become the things that connect us most deeply with other people.

I spent years wishing diabetes wasn't part of my identity. Now I realise it helped shape some of the parts of myself I'm proudest of. 

And sharing that journey with my best friend? Well, that's something I'll never stop being grateful for.

I often think back to that little girl whose earliest memories started with a diagnosis she couldn't understand. If I could tell her one thing now, it would simply be this:

One day, you'll stop wishing to be someone without diabetes. Because you'll discover that the person you've become with all the Pods, sensors, alarms, laughs, tears and friendships along the way is pretty wonderful too.