Twenty years.

I thought I would feel this epiphany, this moment of clarity, a feeling of pride and accomplishment that I have lived such  a normal life with diabetes.  That I would have sage words of wisdom to impart.  Some tips and tricks, maybe.  Advice.  Something I could look back on in another twenty years and nod my head in agreement with.

Twenty years of insulin. Of blood sugar tests.  Of diet plans and food exchanges and carb counting and ratios.  Twenty years of my mother worrying.  Of doctor appointments.  Of explaining the disease to new bosses, new friends, new lovers.  Of meters and needles and glucose tabs.  Of highs and ketones, of lows and juice.

I was just a little kid when I was diagnosed.  My mother and father were strong for me then.  Now, I am all of my twenty-seven years and strong for myself, leaning on my friends and family and support systems when I need help.  But I don’t have any words of advice.  I’m not an expert.  I deal with this the best I can.  There are days when I feel confident and in control.  There are others when I’m not sure which way the world is spinning.  Just like you. Just like everyone.

Twenty years ago today, I was diagnosed with diabetes.  Today feels good.  I feel no different from yesterday.

Here’s to tomorrow being just the same.

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