The Three Years I Ignored My body: My Diabetic Journey

For three years, my body was trying to tell me something was wrong.

The signs were all there. Constant thirst, exhaustion that sleep couldn’t fix, weight changes, Feeling unwell more often than not. Looking back now, it seems obvious, but at the time I convinced myself it was anything but serious.

The truth was, I was scared and ashamed to speak up or say something.

Scared of what a doctor might say. Scared of being judged and judgement being cast upon me. Scared that there was a possibility that something would be wrong with me. Instead of seeking help, I did what many people do when fear takes over — I pleaded ignorance.

I carried on with life, hoping things would somehow improve on their own. They didn’t.

Just before Christmas, everything came crashing down. On Thursday 18th December 2025, I had a blood test that was way overdue. I booked it, as I was feeling pretty brave one day, but still knowing something is bound to show up in the results. It went over pretty smoothly, and carried on about my day.

Me and my partner had just finished dinner and let it settle as we chilled out in the living room. Around half 6 my phone rang. It was the GP. Letting me know I needed to seek immediate emergency attention. Just my luck, as soon as I finally discovered a bit of bravery to seek out medical attention, my doctor informed me that my blood sugar levels were measured at 25.1 mmol/L. I remember my partner’s face at the time was very much full of concern, and I was silently panicking and hoping I could get a quick fix.

Within hours, I found myself in hospital.

The tests that kept coming, constant checking of my blood pressure and my blood sugar, arms and hand bruised from needles being stuck and poked into my skin, the saline drip that clinged to me and hydrated me through an IV.

While most people were preparing for Christmas celebrations, I was spending 3 nights on a hospital ward under observation, surrounded by doctors and nurses. Trying to process how my life got to that moment.

Being diagnosed with diabetes felt overwhelming.

I remember feeling confused, a little scared and worried, and definitely frustrated with myself. Part of me shifted and wondered what would have happened if I had gone to the doctors sooner. The same outcome? Getting on track to being healthier sooner? Either way, no point dwelling or trying to change the past. All I could do was focus on getting better.

The months that followed were a steep learning curve.

I started on Insulin injections and suddenly every meal required planning. Every meal I had to think about carefully, barely any carbs, fats or sugars. Monitoring my blood sugars became part of a daily routine, which I definitely dreaded to find out. Learning slowly but surely how different foods affected me in different ways, becoming more active, exercising regularly, and making healthier choices.

It wasn’t easy.

Some days felt exhausting and maybe a bit unfair. Diabetes doesn’t take a day off, and adjusting to a completely different lifestyle can be emotionally draining.

And to top it all off, the doctors added uncertainty of what type of diabetic I was. I underwent many blood tests while specialists debated whether I was type 1 or type 2.

I took precautions and remained on treatment typically used for type 1 diabetes while they continued to test and investigate.

The waiting was difficult.

I wanted answers. I wanted certainty. I wanted to know how my future would play out.

Eventually, after what felt like a turbulent and strict 3 months of endless appointments and tests, I received the news that I was actually a type 2 diabetic. For me that confirmation of the diagnosis itself brought an enormous sense of relief and a breath of fresh air, not only to myself but my partner and bits of family also.

And so, after finally getting diagnosed, my treatment plan changed. My diabetic nurse gradually began reducing my insulin and introduced tablets instead. Slowly but surely, my body responded well and started to function a lot better with the new treatment.

Today, I am completely off insulin.

I manage my diabetes with tablets, healthier habits, and a much greater understanding of my body than I ever had before.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned isn’t about diabetes itself.

It’s about listening.

Listening when your body is screaming at you, giving you signals. Listening when symptoms persist and also when fears tell you to avoid something important.

Fear and shame kept me away from the doctors for three years. Those emotions, mixed with other mental health issues convinced me into ignoring the problem and felt like it was much easier than facing the truth behind the symptoms.

It wasn’t easy at all.

What was actually difficult was becoming so unwell that I needed emergency treatment.

Honestly, I wish someone had told me that there’s no need to feel shame, that asking for help is not weakness, that getting checked is not embarrassing, and that looking after yourself is not something to feel ashamed of.

Today, I look back on my diagnosis as a major learning curve.

As a beginning.

The beginning of taking my health seriously.

The beginning of understanding my body.

The beginning of choosing myself and my well-being.

And although I wish I hadn’t suffered in silence for so long, I’m incredibly grateful that I finally listened.

Because sometimes the bravest thing we can do is stop ignoring our pain and start taking care of ourselves.