Diabetes,

I am truly debating beginning this letter with a string of expletives.

But even that probably wouldn’t do justice to the swell of emotion that washes over me as it always does when I think about talking to you.

Before you existed, I was already plagued with a primal craving for perfection- and I was diagnosed at age 12.

I feel like you had been lurking in the shadows long before you arrived- and that you chose me because of the way I was. You watched me as a child, creeping closer while giving no warning signs through family history, as I colored meticulously within the lines, perfectly coordinated my outfits at age 6, and sobbed when I got a B in fifth-grade math.

And then you arrived.

You took my childhood pursuit of perfection, threw it into oblivion, and placed me on a tightrope for the rest of my life. An invisible tightrope.

“Perfection” became the punchline of your favorite joke, and I became a balancing act against my will.

And I wasn’t laughing.

I would scream into the abyss beneath me, and you never answered. You simply demanded that I get back up and keep walking a narrow line that would never end.

Until I realized that I wasn’t alone.

When I was 13, one year after you came along, my parents sent me to a weeklong summer camp for kids with type 1 diabetes, and it changed everything. When I looked up from my feet on the wire, I saw hundreds of others struggling to balance, just like me. Old, young, big, small, and everything in between.

I know it sounds cheesy, but it felt like I had finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel: community. I’ve made some of my best, closest, and lifelong friends because of you- which is the only thing I will thank you for. And since then, I’ve made it my mission to help others in this community as they navigate their own invisible tightropes.

I’ve advocated for diabetes research for the American Diabetes Association and Breakthrough T1D, fundraised for the camp that changed my life, and eventually became a counselor at that very same camp in the hopes to show others that they are not alone in this balancing act. And now, I am grateful to work in the diabetes industry, helping people living with diabetes every day to the best of my ability because my motivation isn’t just professional- it’s personal.

But despite all my efforts to bring you into the light and remind others, and myself, that we are not alone in this balancing act, my personal battle with you persists.

It’s the feeling of getting into bed after a long hard day- only to hear you scream an alarm demanding me to submit to your orders.

“Put on a new insulin pump.” by stabbing myself with a needle.

“Take more insulin.” despite knowing I’m on my last vial.

“Eat sugar.” right after brushing my teeth, first thing in the morning, or at 3am.

But I refuse to give up. And even on my hardest days-

I will put on my new insulin pump at 1am, and think about how lucky I am to have one.

I will take more insulin, and be grateful that I can go to the pharmacy tomorrow to get more.

I will eat the sugar, knowing that by doing so, I can continue to live another day and help others.

And this year, diabetes, you’re going to listen to me. You will finally be forced to do something hard, that requires consistency, reliability, early timing, and more resilience than ever before. You will run 26.2 miles with me on November 1 in the NYC Marathon.

Trust me when I say it will not be easy. But I will prepare in every way I can, because I have been endurance training long before I signed up for this race.

And maybe that is the strange truth of all of this. I can curse you, find others with you, spotlight you, learn from you, spite you, and we will still move forward together. Because after all these years, I have learned that living with you is about choosing to get up and show up. To choose to grow stronger when comfort is just within reach. Again, and again, and again. I promise you- I will fall 9 times, but I will get up 10.

And even though I am far from perfect now- and if given the chance, I might trade everything I am today to get rid of you for good, it seems like you intend to stick around for a while.

So guess what? I intend to stick it to you.

Sincerely,

Hayden

-- Your arch nemesis, lifelong companion, and balancing act extraordinaire.