Hey you,

Let’s be honest: when we first met back in May of 2008, I was 27 years old and completely blindsided by your sudden attachment to me. I was instantly looking for the nearest emergency exit. I did not want to be with you. I immediately thought that once people knew that I was involved with you, it would create too much baggage and no one would ever want to date me again. You were uninvited, high maintenance, and you crashed into my life decades before I was ready to have you in it.

I’ve spent the last 18 years trying to break up with you. But since you refuse to go, I’ve reached an understanding with you.

And as much as it pains me to admit it... you completely changed my life in ways I never saw coming.

Because of you, I ended up dancing with the legendary Patti LaBelle at the Nasdaq while we participated in the ringing of the opening bell. I met Nick Jonas and joked with him about my Dexcom G7 once going off in a courtroom. I've seen my face in national television commercials. And I've been honored to be included in a mural at Dexcom HQ—holding down a space for people who rarely see themselves.

Here’s the thing: normally, dealing with an uninvited guest like you would shrink a person's world, but managing you forced me to expand mine. A friend from South Africa excitedly reached out after seeing me in local launch materials over there; his father had been hesitant to try a CGM, but as soon as he saw that another black man was using Dexcom, he became excited to take that step. That’s why, today, I stand proud as a public voice representing black men living with Type 2 diabetes—refusing to let anyone treat Type 2 like a badge of shame or a personal failure.

Look, we’re never going to be friends, but we're stuck together. So, I’ve learned how to live with you, and more importantly, I took the control in our relationship. I now run the show. I run my own life.

Hate you, but kind of love what you did for me,

Harrel