When people hear the word “diabetes,” most imagine sugar, needles, and maybe a relative who had to watch what they ate. But living with insulin-dependent type 2 diabetes is something much deeper than dietary restrictions or injections, it's a daily, private balancing act. It's science and intuition, discipline and forgiveness, vigilance and fatigue. It is a quiet, ongoing negotiation between your body and your spirit.
I didn’t think it would come to this. Like many with type 2, I started with diet changes. I followed the advice, counted the carbs. But over time, despite my best efforts, my pancreas just couldn’t keep up. The day my doctor told me I needed insulin was the day I truly felt the weight of this diagnosis. It wasn’t just a lifestyle condition anymore. It wasn’t something I could "fix" with salad and determination. It had become something I had to accept, accommodate, and live alongside for the rest of my life.
The insulin didn’t just change how I treated my diabetes, it changed how I saw myself. There’s a strange shame that can creep in when your body can’t do what it's supposed to. I felt like I’d failed, like I hadn't tried hard enough. People who don’t live with this disease sometimes say things like “You just need to eat better,” not realising how complex it truly is. I used to try to explain the genetics, the progression, the unpredictability but over time I learned to stop justifying and start giving myself grace.
And one of the most misunderstood parts of this journey is food. Food becomes math. Food becomes risk. Food becomes emotional. It’s not just about cutting out sugar, it's far more nuanced than that.
Take fruit, for example. Most people think of fruit as the epitome of healthy eating. And it is, for most people. But for someone like me, eating a banana can be like pouring sugar straight into my bloodstream. Even natural sugars, like those in grapes, apples, or melon, can cause rapid spikes in my blood glucose. I have to be incredibly selective. Berries, like raspberries and blackberries, are generally okay in small amounts because they’re lower in sugar and higher in fiber. But watermelon, pineapple, or dried fruits, they can wreak havoc on my numbers, even when my stomach says I’m still hungry and my heart says I just want to feel “normal.”
Then there are carbohydrates, breads, pasta, rice, cereal, crackers, foods I grew up thinking were staples of a balanced meal. Now they’re foods I approach with caution. Even whole grains, while better than white flour alternatives, still impact my blood sugar. And forget about pastries, muffins, or sweetened yogurts, those are like grenades. The tricky thing is many of these foods don’t even taste particularly sweet. You wouldn’t guess how much sugar is hiding in a “healthy” granola bar or a bowl of oatmeal drowned in fruit.
Sometimes, I’ll eat something that feels safe, like cous cous or a small piece of sweet potato, and still my blood sugar will soar. It’s not always predictable. My body’s response can change depending on the time of day, whether I’ve been active, how stressed I am, or whether I slept well the night before and the weather. There are no perfect rules, only daily trial and error.
Taking insulin doesn’t give me a free pass to eat what I want. It just gives me a chance to survive. The insulin keeps me alive, literally. Without it, my blood sugar would climb dangerously high, causing damage to my eyes, kidneys, nerves, and heart. It would leave me fatigued, dehydrated, confused, and eventually, unconscious. Over time, without insulin, the body essentially begins to shut down. It is not an overstatement to say that each injection is a lifeline.
And then, there's the weight gain, another burden that comes with insulin. You would think that eating healthier and moving more would mean the weight just falls off. But the reality is far from that. With every injection, the pounds quietly creep on. It’s not just frustrating, it’s demoralising. There’s even a name for it: the diabetic tummy. It sounds like a joke, but it’s not. It’s real. And it’s cruel. I try so hard, watching everything I eat, but the scale barely moves Ann if so I only gain not lose. Some days it feels like I’m being punished for doing what’s keeping me alive. It chips away at your self-esteem in ways that are hard to talk about. You look in the mirror and see someone you barely recognise, and it’s heartbreaking because you know how hard you’re trying. But the weight just won’t let go.
There are still good days. Days when I manage a meal and my blood sugar stays steady. Days when I get the timing just right. Days when I feel like I’ve got this under control. And then there are days when I just want to eat a piece of fruit without thinking about it. Days when the numbers still spike no matter how careful I am. Days when I cry after dinner because I did everything right and still feel like I’m failing.
I also joke sometimes that I’m the worst diabetic in the world. Not because I don’t care, believe me, I do. But because I love all the wrong things. Chocolate. Cake. Bread. The comforting, delicious foods that bring joy to most people but bring me consequences. I know what I should avoid, and yet I still long for the taste of things I used to enjoy without thought. I don’t always get it right. I still slip. I still cheat. But I also still try, every single day.
And one thing that changed everything for me, truly, deeply, was starting to use a Dexcom. A continuous glucose monitor gave me more than numbers. It gave me insight. It gave me understanding. Before the Dexcom, I was guessing. Testing with finger pricks a few times a day gave me a snapshot, but it was like checking the weather once and trying to predict the whole week.  And when you have high haemoglobin and your blood is thick finger pricking just doesn’t work for me. With the Dexcom, I can see it all happening in real time, rising after meals, crashing if I have left it too long between eating of drinking, drifting overnight. It shows me what stress does, what lack of sleep does, what a bowl of pasta does. It has taught me more about my condition than any doctor ever could. It’s not an exaggeration to say it’s been a lifesaver.
It’s also helped me realise just how misunderstood this condition really is. Non-diabetics, including myself before I was diagnosed, have no idea how serious, exhausting, and life-altering diabetes truly is. People think it’s about sugar. Or about weight. Or about willpower. But it’s really about trying to live normally while managing a chronic, invisible condition that doesn’t take breaks, that can kill you. It follows you everywhere. Every meal. Every hour. Every emotion.
But I’m still here. I’m still learning. I’m still managing. I’ve learned to be patient with myself. I’ve learned how to advocate for what I need. And I’ve learned that there’s strength in choosing your health every single day, even when the world doesn’t fully understand what that takes.
Living with insulin-dependent type 2 diabetes isn’t a battle I chose, but it’s one I face every single day. And that, to me, is worth sharing. Not for pity or applause, but for connection. Because if you’re reading this and walking this road too, I want you to know: you’re not alone. We carry this burden together. And in that, there is power, there is community, and there is hope.

"The Sugar in My Blood"

Each morning breaks with a silent prayer,
Fingers tremble in the soft light’s glare.
A tiny prick, a crimson bead,
A number whispers what I need.

I did not choose this hidden fight,
Where sweet becomes a silent blight.
The birthday cake, the candied kiss,
Now come with fear, with things I miss.

There’s sorrow in the small restraint,
In every meal a patient saint.
But still I smile, still I rise,
With quiet fire behind my eyes.

For I have learned the language well,
The silent tales my body tells.
The highs that make the world turn fast,
The lows that feel too dark to last.

But oh, the strength I’ve come to know,
In counting carbs and letting go.
In measuring each drop of grace,
While wearing calm upon my face.

I’m not just numbers, charts, or lines,
I’m dreams, and storms, and steady climbs.
And though my blood may sugar-run,
This war is mine..

So here’s to all who walk this road,
With courage packed in every load.
You are not weak, you are the flame
That turns this illness into name.

Survivor. Fighter. Soul refined,
A warrior shaped by sugar’s bind.

Until next time, 
Toodle pip, 
Yours Lainey.

🦋🦋🦋