Owning Type I Diabetes, and What My 11-Year-Old Self Would Want Me to Share

It took about eight and a half years after my Type I diabetes (T1D) diagnosis for me to feel comfortable talking about it. It was my sophomore basketball season at Bentley. Joel Goddett — who also lives with Type 1 and is director of strategic communications and digital media for the Northeast 10 Conference — reached out and asked if I would do an interview to share on social media. My initial thought was, “Great, just what I need, more attention.” It was my first year as a starter on the team, and really my first year earning playing time. I thought it would be selfish to make something about me when the focus should be on the team, especially since I was just starting to earn respect. But after talking it over with friends, I said “yes.”  

The interview was deep and personal, and I was glad when it was over. But when the video came out a month later, my reaction was “wow.” I received messages from parents of young athletes with T1D, athletes themselves, teenagers, families and people who had been living with it for 40 years. They told me how inspiring my story was and asked me to keep going. They saw themselves in me. They pushed me to keep grinding.  

Among all the messages, one thing stood out. They had experienced moments I thought only I had lived through — things I thought only I would understand. So much support and light came out of that one interview that, right then and there, I committed to starting an online page to share my journey. For years I had hated this disease; I let it dictate my day and who I shared my stories with. Deciding to take that frustration and turn it into something positive has helped me become more confident in owning my condition. More than anything, it’s what my newly diagnosed 11-year-old self would want me to do. 

T1D: Hiding the Diagnosis 

The early days after my diagnosis were brutal, and a lot of what I went through nobody ever saw except my mom and my dad. There were countless nights when I woke up four or five times, sweating through my sheets and grabbing fruit snacks to bring my blood sugar back up. There were times I felt like I was going to pass out in the shower, times I was throwing up all night from excess ketones in my bloodstream. I had to switch schools. 

The hardest part for me as a teen athlete was not being able to give 100% in the sport I loved: basketball. I was at an age when young athletes were starting to stand out as they worked to get into good high schools and colleges, but my body wasn’t cooperating.  

I kept my diagnosis private for years because, more than anything, I hated being different. I hated feeling like a burden and being treated differently. I heard, “Can you eat that?” “Are you doing okay?” “Do you want to sit out, take a minute?” I know it was out of kindness and curiosity, but I felt like I was being given excuses.  

Still, there were times when I had to stop in the middle of practice because my blood sugar dropped. Kids would ask about my continuous glucose monitor and insulin pump, my insulin syringes or why I got to eat so much candy — and whether they could have some. I started to find ways to avoid the attention by hiding my sensors and never talking about them. I would rather have passed out in practice than stopped and said, “Hey, give me a second.” I was 11, 12, 13 years old, and all I wanted was to be a normal kid with every opportunity the healthy kids had. Keeping my T1D hidden felt like the only way to get that, until I shared my story years later. 

Gratitude, and Going for the Win 

I’ve never really known basketball without diabetes. I only got serious about it around high school, so in a way diabetes and basketball started together for me. Checking my numbers, adjusting before a game and handling a low blood sugar on the bench have always just been part of the game for me. And I think that’s shaped me in a good way. I never had to grieve the version of me that played without it, so I’ve never used it as an excuse. I compete to win — every game and every practice — no matter what my blood sugar is doing. That’s always been my standard. 

What it has given me is perspective. I try not to take a single game or practice for granted, because I know how quickly things can be taken away. I also know a lot of people have it much harder than I do. Some kids with Type 1 never get the chance to play at this level, and some people are dealing with things far worse than diabetes. So, every time I step on the court, I’m grateful I can put one foot in front of the other and do what I love. I’m grateful to the staff, coaches and teammates who support me. That gratitude is a big part of why I play as hard as I do. 

Getting Game Ready 

When I talk about the hard parts of being a First Team All-Conference player for a Division II college basketball team, it’s not to portray myself as a victim; it’s to inform and educate. I want people to understand what it really takes. Game day is all about routine, and diabetes touches every piece of it.  

Before I even get to the gym, I’m asking myself whether I slept well and whether my numbers were steady overnight. Sleep, hormones, stress and food all affect my blood sugar. I time my meals and carbs carefully. Then there’s adrenaline — and good luck with that. The excitement and nerves before a game push my blood sugar up, but if I dose too much insulin to correct it, I can crash right around tipoff. It’s a constant balancing act, and I’m checking my numbers about every 10 minutes to make sure I’m okay. It’s like a game that you’re playing before the actual game.  

My goal is to have everything handled about an hour before the game, so that when I step on the court, I can just be a regular athlete and not a diabetic. But honestly, that’s almost impossible. Something always goes sideways, and that’s just the reality of it. So, alongside the normal routine of music, getting taped, heat therapy, warmups and talking with my teammates, I’m watching my numbers and adjusting. If my mom calls before the game, I need to tell her I’ve got it under control. I’ve messed up plenty of times over the years — going into games too high or too low — and learned the hard way. But every one of those failures taught me something, and without them, I wouldn’t be a first-team all-conference player with an NCAA tournament appearance today. 

Progress Powered by Learning 

The work of becoming a better athlete and teammate is never done. I’ve leaned on coaches, peers, alumni and friends to help me become the best person, leader, teammate and captain I can be for my teammates.  

Managing diabetes has taught me a lot about being a strong athlete and person: 

1. Be Accountable  

With Type 1 diabetes, nobody else can manage your numbers for you. You own every decision, good or bad, and I try to bring that same ownership to my role on the team. Some of the people who’ve impacted me most — who’ve held me accountable and pushed me toward the player and person I know I can be — never make the headlines. They are the people across campus who cheer me on, greet me with a smile and remember my name. Those little moments mean more than they know.  

2. Practice Discipline 

Tracking carbs, timing insulin and checking my numbers every day have made me more disciplined in everything, from film and preparation to taking care of my body.  

3. Adapt to Adversity 

Diabetes almost never goes according to plan, so I’ve learned to stay calm when things go sideways and adjust on the fly, which happens in basketball constantly. It has taught me to think things through before I act, weighing how a decision will play out instead of just reacting. How you respond to adversity matters. 

4. Be Patient 

I know what it feels like to struggle with something others don’t understand, so I try my hardest to meet my teammates where they are and help them through whatever they’re dealing with. That can be challenging in the heat of the moment during a game, but I constantly work at being patient with other people. And with the help of my teammates and the people around me, I’m getting there day by day. 

A big takeaway about diabetes, or really any life challenge, is that it doesn’t care about your plans, your routine or how ready you feel. Some days you do everything right and it still goes wrong, and some days everything goes wrong and you still find a way forward. It has taught me to stop writing the ending before it happens and to focus on the now.