As I sit down to reflect on this past year, I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer weight of 2024. It’s been a year that has tested me in ways I never imagined, a year marked by battles that often felt insurmountable. Balancing my eating disorder recovery with the demands of managing type 1 diabetes has always been a delicate dance, but this year brought challenges that shook my footing time and time again.
The Unforgiving Intersection of Recovery and Diabetes
Living with type 1 diabetes means that every bite I take is meticulously calculated—carbs, insulin ratios, and blood sugar trends dictate what, when, and how I eat. For someone in eating disorder recovery, where the goal is often to relinquish control and find peace with food, this constant monitoring can feel suffocating. Recovery encourages intuition and self-trust, yet diabetes demands precision and discipline. Reconciling these conflicting needs has always been hard, but this year it felt impossible.
In 2024, I found myself caught in a relentless cycle of guilt and frustration. There were days when I’d celebrate a recovery milestone—eating a meal without counting calories—only to be blindsided by a blood sugar spike that left me questioning everything. Other days, the fear of a hypo (low blood sugar) drove me to eat when I wasn’t ready, triggering feelings of shame and loss of control. Each decision felt like a potential minefield, and the emotional toll was immense.
At one point, my recovery took an unexpected turn when I had to be NG tube fed. This intervention, meant to stabilise my body and ensure I received adequate nutrition, brought its own set of emotional challenges. It was a stark reminder of the physical toll my eating disorder had taken and the seriousness of my condition. Managing my diabetes during this time felt like an afterthought—my blood sugar levels often swung wildly as my body adjusted to the feeding regimen. While the tube feeding was essential, it amplified my feelings of vulnerability and the ever-present conflict between recovery and chronic illness management.
The Isolation of Invisible Battles
This year, the loneliness of navigating these intertwined struggles felt more acute than ever. Despite the increasing awareness around mental health and chronic illness, the unique challenges of living at this intersection often felt misunderstood. “Just follow your meal plan,” or “You need to take care of your diabetes first,” were well-meaning pieces of advice that ignored the complexity of my reality. The truth is, prioritising one often feels like sacrificing the other.
And so, I withdrew. I turned down invitations that involved food, fearing the judgment of others or the chaos of unpredictable blood sugar levels. I avoided conversations about my health, too tired to explain why balancing these two conditions sometimes felt like an impossible task. The result was an aching loneliness, a sense of being untethered from those around me.
The Emotional Rollercoaster
What made 2024 particularly difficult was the emotional turbulence that accompanied these challenges. Diabetes management is already a full-time job, one where perfection is unattainable, yet the stakes are life-threatening. Adding recovery to the mix meant living with a near-constant hum of anxiety. Would today’s choices set me back in my recovery? Would they jeopardise my long-term health? The weight of these questions was exhausting.
There was also the deeply emotional experience of being admitted to an eating disorder unit. This wasn’t a decision made lightly, and it came with a mixture of relief and dread. Relief that I would finally be in an environment designed to support my recovery, and dread at confronting the reality of how much help I needed. During this time, I had to move off my hybrid closed-loop insulin pump and transition back to multiple daily injections, which caused my blood sugars to spiral out of control. The lack of precise insulin management that my pump had provided me made it nearly impossible to maintain stable blood sugar levels, adding another layer of stress and physical discomfort to an already challenging situation. The structured meals and therapies highlighted how difficult it was for the nursing staff to control my diabetes, and dread at confronting the reality of how much help I needed. The structured meals and therapies highlighted how difficult it was for the nursing staff to control my diabetes, yet they also brought challenges in navigating my diabetes care within the confines of the program. It was a humbling chapter, one that underscored the seriousness of my struggles but also reinforced the importance of fighting for my health.
And yet, within the storm, there were glimmers of resilience. Moments where I chose recovery, even when it felt like a betrayal of my diabetes management. Moments where I prioritised my diabetes care, reminding myself that compassion and patience are integral to recovery, too. These small victories felt monumental, even as the larger battle raged on.
Lessons in Grace and Growth
If 2024 has taught me anything, it’s the importance of grace—for myself and for this journey that is anything but linear. Recovery and diabetes management are both marathons, not sprints. They require endurance, adaptability, and a deep well of self-compassion. This year has reminded me that setbacks don’t negate progress and that survival itself is a testament to my strength.
I’ve also learned the value of seeking connection. Though it’s been tempting to isolate, opening up to trusted friends, therapists, and online communities has been a lifeline. There is power in vulnerability, in sharing the messy, unfiltered truth of my experiences. It’s through these connections that I’ve found validation, support, and the courage to keep going.
Looking Ahead
As I prepare to leave 2024 behind, I do so with a mixture of relief and hope. Relief that this difficult year is coming to a close, and hope that the lessons I’ve learned will carry me forward. Recovery and diabetes management will continue to challenge me, but they will also continue to teach me about the beauty of embracing imperfection.
To anyone else navigating the complexities of eating disorder recovery or chronic illness—or both—I see you. Your struggles are valid, your efforts are enough, and your journey is worth it. Here’s to a new year of growth, healing, and the unwavering belief that we are more than our challenges.
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