The Moment I Stop Hiding and Start Speaking

Living with type 1 diabetes for twenty years has shaped me in ways I never expected. As I prepare to leave everything behind and travel the world without an end date, something inside me feels both soft and fierce at the same time. If you’re reading this, maybe you’re curious about how type 1 diabetes and world travel can coexist. Or maybe you’re here because you also carry a story that feels heavy at times.

This first blog is not about a dramatic moment or a specific challenge. It’s about introducing myself honestly, the person behind the numbers, behind the needles, behind the resistance and the strength. It’s about opening the door to the journey I’m stepping into, and telling you the truth before anything else: I don’t have everything figured out. Not even close. But I’m choosing to do this anyway.

The Challenge I Am Facing

The biggest challenge right now isn’t a hypo, a time zone, or a sweaty night in a tropical climate. It’s something much quieter. Something internal. It’s the challenge of allowing myself to be seen with all the layers that come with twenty years of diabetes.

For most of my life, diabetes was something I carried privately. Not because I was ashamed, although, yes, sometimes shame did whisper in the background, but because I learned to cope by pushing it aside. By functioning. By pretending it wasn’t affecting me as much as it actually was.

But preparing for a life of constant movement forces everything into the light. Suddenly “I’ll deal with it later” isn’t an option. Traveling the world fulltime with type 1 diabetes means facing myself in every time zone. And that’s more confronting than any injection, any number on a screen, any doctor’s appointment.

The truth is: I’m not well-regulated. Most days, my values are too high. Some days I forget I even have diabetes, until my body reminds me in a way that hits hard. Twenty years in, and I’m still not where I want to be. And yet, here I am, choosing a life that depends on responsibility, preparation and constant awareness. It’s ironic. It’s messy. It’s me.

How I Deal With It or Not

I’d love to say I’ve already developed a flawless travel routine. That I’m entering this new life with spreadsheets, perfect insulin planning and calm acceptance. But let’s stay honest: I haven’t.

Some days I’m strong. I read, I prepare, I plan. I tell myself, “This time I’ll do it right. This time I’ll take my diabetes seriously.” On those days I feel ready.

And some days… I avoid everything. I ignore numbers. I skip checks. I procrastinate ordering supplies. I freeze inside when I think about finding insulin in countries I’ve never been to. I feel the old resistance rise, the stubborn part of me that doesn’t want a life based on rules, counting, calculating, and correcting.

Twenty years in, and I still swing between extremes. Either I’m hyper-focused for weeks, or I fall back into forgetting, resisting, or silently hoping everything will “just go well.” Spoiler: diabetes doesn’t care about hope.

But here’s the part I’m proud of: I’m not pretending anymore. Not here. Not in this blog. And not in the life I’m choosing. I’m entering this world trip knowing I don’t have perfect control. Knowing I will mess up. Knowing I will have moments where I’m angry at my body, at my pancreas, at the constant work of it all.

And still, I’m going. That’s how I deal with it. Not by being perfect. But by moving anyway.

What I Am Learning

My Twenty Years With Type 1 Diabetes

I was sixteen when diabetes entered my life. I was living on my own, studying, trying to figure out who I was. Suddenly everything changed. Food became numbers. Sleep became calculations. Spontaneity became risk. I grew up faster than I wanted to. And part of me never really stopped being that sixteen year old girl who wished she could eat without thinking.

My History With Anorexia

A few years before diabetes, I lived with anorexia, not out of self-hate, but out of a desperate need for control. Eating, not eating, controlling food, all of it created a sense of safety. Then diabetes arrived and forced me to eat, to calculate, to care for myself whether I wanted to or not. On some strange level, diabetes saved me. It pushed me back into life. But it also created a complicated relationship with food and my own body that I’m still navigating.

My Ongoing Struggle With Acceptance

Two decades later, you would expect acceptance. But it is not that simple. I still feel resistance. I still get angry. I still get tired of thinking about insulin and carbs and timing. I still feel overwhelmed when I imagine managing this while crossing continents. Acceptance for me is not a destination. It is something that comes and goes. Some days I feel peace. Other days I feel frustration. And I am learning to allow both.

But maybe this world trip will teach me something new. Not how to be perfect. But how to be honest. How to care for myself with a softer heart instead of a hard push. How to grow into the kind of woman who trusts herself even when her body feels unpredictable. I am not there yet. But I feel something shifting.

Practical Tips and Resources

Even though this first blog is mainly about introducing my truth, here are a few things that are already helping me prepare for traveling fulltime with type 1 diabetes.

I am creating a list of international pharmacies so I know where to go in every country.
I am researching insulin brands worldwide and how they differ.
I am building a small kit with cooling options that do not rely on electricity.
I am packing extra CGM sensors and old school fingerprick materials as backup.
I am saving the names and locations of clinics in the first countries we will visit.
And maybe the most important part. I am giving diabetes the space it deserves instead of pushing it away.

Closing Thoughts and Feelings

Writing this blog feels like opening a door I have kept closed for a long time. It brings emotion. It brings resistance. It brings old stories I thought I had outgrown. But it also brings relief. I am finally telling the truth. Not the filtered version. The real me. The woman who is scared and brave at the same time. The woman who has lived with diabetes for twenty years and still chooses a life of movement, exploration and freedom.

If there is one thing I want you to take from this first story, it is this. You do not have to be fully ready to start. You do not need perfect control. You do not need total acceptance. You only need a little courage. Enough to take one step. The rest you learn along the way.

This is my beginning. My honest beginning. And I am grateful that you are here with me.

Two Wild Nomads. Stories about freedom, growth and choosing the life that feels right.