Who am I to tell you about diabetes?

Welcome to the true story of a diabetic.

My name is Christain Martell. I’m 28 years old, and I’ve been living with type 1 diabetes for over 20 years.

That’s two decades of poking myself, guessing at carbs, surviving blood sugar roller coasters, and navigating a medical system that feels like a maze built by people who’ve never actually been inside it.

I’m not a doctor. I’m not a nutritionist. I don’t have a degree in medical anything.
What I do have is a body that stopped doing what it was supposed to… and a life that completely changed because of it.

I’m so glad you’re here.

This blog isn’t just about managing diabetes—it’s about managing diabetes when nothing else in life seems to go right.

If you’ve ever felt like nobody around you really gets it—or if you’ve got support but still feel misunderstood—you’re in the right place.

And if you’re tired of meeting someone new and hearing:

“Oh… you have diabetes? My uncle lost his foot and went blind from that.”

🤦‍♂️ (Seriously—please stop doing that to diabetics.)
We know. We live with it every day.
What we need is a different kind of support—one that starts with understanding.
(Don’t worry—we’ll get into that.)

I want you to know: you’re not alone in the darkness that sometimes shadows this journey.

I know what it’s like to want to do better, but feel like something invisible keeps pulling you back down.
And what that tug does to your head. And your heart.

Everyone’s experience is different—but we’re all navigating our own version of this storm.

This blog is my logbook—my honest account of triumphs, breakdowns, weird symptoms, healthcare chaos, and healing, too.

We’ll talk about diabetes, sure—but also ADHD, depression, maybe even BPD.
(Can’t say for sure—growing up in a family that didn’t believe in therapy means I got a late start on figuring that stuff out.)

But I do believe in it now, and that’s part of this story too.

There were times I didn’t know how I’d get insulin.
Times I couldn’t check my blood sugar for days.
Times I felt like I was finally soaring, only to realize—oh wait, that’s just my blood sugar spiking again.

And just as quickly? Crash.
Faster than my will to socialize at a family reunion.

It’s draining. It’s dizzying. It’s real.

If you’re reading this and you don’t have diabetes, I’m glad you’re here too.
You might not feel this in your body—but if you’re open to learning what it’s like, you’re part of the solution.

The more we understand each other, the better we all get.

And through it all, there have been moments of love and heartbreak.
Good jobs, terrible jobs.
Laughter and grief.
Small-town struggles.
And somehow, I’m still here—trying to make sense of it all, and maybe help someone else along the way.

So if you’re still reading this: thank you.
I’m really glad you’re here.

Let me show you what it’s like to be me—a type 1 diabetic, raised without therapy, living in a small town, trying to make it through life one blood sugar swing at a time.

Let’s start this story.