If you had asked me to describe myself at the age of 14, “carefree”, “innocent” and “naive” are the words I would use. This is a time in all of our lives where we should get to be exactly those things. But, as we all know, life has a funny way of dealing out the hand of cards we all get to play in this life, and in one single moment my identity and how I defined myself as an individual became “fixed”. 

On a brisk early March morning in 2004, I sat in a cold room in a stiff hospital bed strung up to an IV after having what seemed like an endless amount of blood drawn, scared beyond reason at the feelings of everything being explained to me by the doctors and nurses which sound so foreign and unknown. I was told that my blood sugar was 9 times higher than what was considered normal; a number that should have been fatal. 

In a single instance, I came to hate the identity I assumed in that diagnosis. I hated the way that others viewed me from then on. I hated everything that I knew in my heart that a life with juvenile diabetes would rob me of. In one single moment, I hated the way that I felt I’d always see myself from that day on. I became “The Sick Girl” and the feeling of “hate” soon thereafter became ME…

My Identity

The human identity is a unique combination of a person’s thoughts, emotions, experiences, values and relations that shape a sense of self and their place in the world. We all strive for a deeper understanding of ourselves and ultimately, how we are defined within our lifetimes so naturally the question of “Who am I?” is one that we must ask ourselves from time to time to gain that understanding, right? 

As we evolve and grow on our own unique, continuous journeys through this lifetime our identities evolve as well. So, what happens when you believe that your identity has become solidified and will always be the same? What happens when you abhor an identity that you felt trapped within? Nothing good, I’ll be the first to tell you that. 

I became morbidly ashamed of how I felt “permanently defined” and that I had become trapped in an identity that I did not choose for myself. It became a painful experience to exist amongst my peers and see them living “carefree” the way I once did and to know that I would never experience that feeling ever again, that I would have to just endure every single day of my life until I inevitably succumb to this terminal disease. 

I felt an indescribable loneliness in never being able to relate to anyone around me in living with this disease day in and day out. The fear, exhaustion, and chaos that life with diabetes felt suffocatingly isolating because I knew that I could never share those emotions with others without provoking feelings of sympathy or worry in return.  

Those feelings churned themselves into the perfect storm of bitterness and anger within me, which is a burden I have carried silently for almost two decades. Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself “who am I?” until one day, a few years ago, I finally asked myself this question again.

Making a Difference

I have always fantasized about working with medical marijuana and making a difference in the world for people who are chronically ill in any capacity. Five years ago, I finally fulfilled that dream by joining the Ohio cannabis industry, which is a decision that would change my life for the better–in more ways than I could have ever dreamed. 

I was instantly hooked on the culture that surrounded working with the patients and this extraordinary plant medicine. I soon realized that for the first time (in longer than I could remember) I finally no longer felt so alone. 

Although the patients and colleagues that I worked with didn’t suffer from the exact same inflictions that I did, they understood the chronic suffering and sickness–in one way or another–that I had felt for so long. It was the suffering that we endured that brought us all to seek refuge with cannabis in the first place. 

In the process of working so closely with the patients and consulting them to find products best suited for them, I realized that the only way I could effectively do the job was to be genuinely transparent about my own journey with medical marijuana. In doing so, for the first time in my life, I was understood and looked at with empathy, rather than sympathy. 

I felt that burden of shame and hatred begin to dissipate from within my soul. And slowly, after years of hiding my diagnosis and who I was because of it, I began to tell my story of life with this disease without a shred of negativity towards it. My identity no longer felt “fixed”.

TellIng My Story

I can remember the first time I was asked to write about the story of my diagnosis and life with T1 so vividly. I can still see myself in those first moments sitting down in front of the very same laptop that I write on now and thinking, “If I’m going to tell this story, then I’m going to TELL IT ALL.” 

I can still feel the nerves I felt knowing that what I was about to write would make me feel so vulnerable and exposed–because of how truthful it would all be. My story would be a compilation of the good, the bad, and all of the thoughts and feelings that I had held inside of me for so long that needed to be spoken out loud, not just for myself, but for every person like me who had suffered silently. 

I used Hemingway’s quote “You are so brave and quiet that I forget you are suffering.” I bared my heart and soul with pride, without shame, in my own words, and I submitted the article, “Brave and Quiet”. I didn’t realize at the time that THIS could be how I made a difference in the world, in the way that I had always hoped I could. 

At that moment, I changed the manner of how I would define myself from that moment forward; I finally had the courage to ask myself the question I wanted to answer so differently for so long... 

“Who AM I?”

I am a warrior against type 1 diabetes going on 20 years strong this March. 

I am a mother to two beautiful children. I have persevered through the hardships of my illness, in pregnancy and motherhood, to raise them to be strong-willed and strong-minded individuals, while showing them how to be who they want to be, without shame. 

I am the daughter of a formidable mother who has fought courageous battles within her own body with a tenacity and grace that I can only hope to emulate. 

I am the sister to two brothers who have loved me fiercely and relentlessly through two decades of knowing and understanding the extra time and attention that needed to be given to me, without ever harboring any negative feelings towards it. 

I am a WOMAN living my story with transparency and authentically, regardless of the struggles I endure in this life with diabetes. 

I am most thankful to be here, at this moment, to see my 20th diabetes awareness month of November, and the anniversary of my diagnosis. 

I bear the story of this experience with the nickname “Sugar-free Susie” like a badge of honor and strength that it deserves, finally understanding the deeper meaning of purpose, meaning, and connection to the world that it empowers me with.

Who am I?

I am ME. 

Dedicated to all my fellow blue ribbon warriors fighting the good fight for Diabetes Awareness Month this November. This one is for us.