The One Thing You Should Never Say to Someone With Diabetes

Never say this to someone with diabetes

I was talking to my father the other day, and he brought up someone he met who was devastated because her husband had just died from diabetes complications.

I thought to myself, Thanks for the uplifting story, Dad.

That’s something you never say to someone with diabetes.

Why does it seem like every time I meet someone and they find out I have diabetes, they start telling me about someone they know who passed away, went blind, lost a foot, or is on dialysis because of diabetes?

Like… thanks. That really makes me feel great about my body slowly eating itself into disability or death.

Please, stop.

We know how serious diabetes is. We already get it—from our doctors when our A1C isn’t at 6 or lower, from the people who love us, and most of all, from ourselves.

If I had a nickel for every time I told myself, You need to do better. You need to go on a diet so you don’t feel so drained. You need to log your numbers more consistently, I’d be rich. That voice doesn’t stop.

And for people who think managing diabetes is just a matter of “discipline,” let me tell you—sometimes it feels like that scene in Star Wars, when Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewie are trapped in the trash compactor and the walls are closing in. When someone tells us another horror story, it’s like they’re tossing in more garbage, making the walls close in even faster.

Even the comments that sound caring—like, “You better take care of yourself,” or “Hope you’re watching what you eat”—can feel like someone yelling down from the top of the trash compactor. We’re already buried in stress. We’re managing physical and mental strain every single day.

So, what can you do if someone you care about is struggling with diabetes? Especially if it feels like every time you ask about their blood sugar, they snap at you?

We know—it can feel like we hate you for trying to help. We don’t. If you care, never stop caring. But what we really need is consistency. Even if we sound frustrated, even if we seem distant—when you stay with us, when you show up without judgment—we feel it. We feel heard. We feel less alone.

I’ve yet to meet someone who doesn’t know a diabetic. So here’s something simple you can ask: “Would you like to connect with other diabetics?” If they say yes, take their number. And if you meet a diabetic randomly, instead of sharing the struggle of someone else you know, say this:

“I know someone with diabetes who’s looking to connect with others going through the same thing.”

I’m 28 years old, and back in high school, there were several other diabetics. But none of us really connected outside of that shared identity. Even so, we knew. We knew only we could truly understand what each other was going through. It’s a war inside, and sometimes, even friends can’t reach us the way another diabetic can.

I’m not saying that only diabetic friends will help. But I am saying that connection—real connection with people who get it—can change everything.

So please, stop telling us about all the bad things we already know. Instead, offer us understanding. Offer us connection.

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P.S. That’s what this website is truly for.

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To the diabetics reading this: I see you. Whether your A1C is steady or you’re riding the rollercoaster every day—you deserve support. You deserve to know that there are others who get it. Others who understand how exhausting, painful, and relentless it can be.

Let people help by helping you connect with others like you. That kind of support can make life better in ways you didn’t even know you needed. It can help us live longer, laugh more, and feel less alone.

Let it in.

Until next time,

I’m Christian Martell, a Type 1 diabetic for over 20 years. Feel free to comment or reach out. Through the mud we track—and through the mud, we succeed.