Sharing for my lovely cousin. ❤
When I think about thriving with type 1 diabetes, I can’t help but reflect on my original diagnosis at 10-years-old, when I was scared I would never be able to eat ice cream again, couldn’t stop crying, though I wasn’t 100% sure why yet, and began to feel robbed of my childhood.
Of course, I wouldn’t realize the complexity of the thievery that having type 1 diabetes brought me until years in. This temperament was also self-deprecated soon into my condition. Thank goodness.
“Why not live the bright side of this,” I thought?
I realized early on that if I were to truly thrive with the condition, I would have to make the most of it. I couldn’t live as a victim, but an embracer of my condition, an acceptor. If I lived as a victim, I would be seen as a victim, feel a victim, and be a sad…
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