I've suffered from chronic diseases longer than not. In 2003, when I was just about five years old, my mother noticed the symptoms of Type One Diabetes and rushed me to the hospital where I was diagnosed. I have no recollection of my diagnosis, I just know that it happened February 18, 2003. Fifteen years later I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after two years of intensive depressive episodes and that I remember vividly. I knew something was wrong but finally getting a diagnosis was difficult to deal with rather than a weight off my shoulders. The two conditions are in no way rare, there are about 1.25 million American with Type One Diabetes (American Diabetes Association) and nearly 16 million American with Depression (CDC). The two disorders are extensively studied in their own right with strides being made to help sufferers of the two diseases, however, the link between the two is only coming into the limelight and I am here to show you there is a prevalent need for more research and help in terms of chronic diseases and their effects on mental health and visversa.

Having been a Type One for 16 years meant growing up was different. Instead of running to grab snacks I had a laundry list of things I had to consider and do before I could put food into my tiny little body. Check blood sugar, gauge where I was, correct or not to correct, could I eat what I wanted, if so, how many carbs, do the math for a bolus if I couldn't do that go to mom to have her do big girl math. That process was a 24/7 mentality, and that's just the simple version. On top of that, I had a small square box with a wire attached to me 24/7 that made me look like some kind of robot. Being a kid is hard enough, being a kid with a chronic disease is harder.

I was lucky though, my mother, who was also a Type One, had been one since 1971 making her all-knowing and wise in the area of treatment. She knew immediately when I was high or low and helped me learn the small signifiers of noticing my body's reaction to hypo or hyperglycemic episode. To her, I am eternally grateful for her teachings, even if the first ten years I didn't really listen (sorry, mom).

Like said earlier, being a kid with a chronic disease was hard. School lunch was met with judgmental looks, jokes about too much sugar and of course fat jokes. Puberty is terrible for a normal kid, pepper in some chronic illness mixed with bullying and it will really make a kid feel terrible. Middle school and high school were horrible. I couldn't wait to get out of NJ and off to a college that I chose, but as luck would have it, that also came with some of its own issues.

By the time I had actually graduated High School, I was ready, ready, ready to get out on my own and be the adult I thought I was at 18. Soon enough I was in Maryland, moving into my dorm room and attending orientation, everything was looking good. Only the dark cloud was not far. The end of Freshman year came with extreme physical sickness. I was diagnosed with 23 (yes, 23) different strands of Pneumococcal Pneumonia, you know, the kind old people get. I was also going through radiation for severe thyroid issues. This is when I started to notice my overall mood was shifting. Instead of having a bad day or a bad moment, I was irritated all the time, crying for no reason, and ignoring my diabetes. I put it off as effects of the radiation and pneumonia.

When Sophomore year came around, I had taken a larger role in the school, was part of a sorority, and was living with my then-best friend. Life was finally good again. Then I had a guy tell me he would never sleep with someone who had Diabetes as if I were contagious, gross and would spread my disease to him. That was a big blow to my entire being as it was my number one fear coming to life. Eventually, I brushed it off enough to not constantly think about it, but it was always in the back of my head. Was I really gross? Did this make me dirty or damaged? My self-confidence took a dip and that's when every aspect of my then undiagnosed depression became full-fledged. I wasn't going to class, eating become non-existent, I stopped going to sorority related events, and I made up excuses for why I needed to stay in bed all day and cry over nothing. By the time the school year ended, I was in really rough shape looking back. I later learned my sister and mom had been talking about their concerns, leading to my mom taking me to a psychiatrist. Thus, getting diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder.

I thought this diagnosis would help me and move me towards action to get better, but I learned that's not how depression works. With another disorder on my list of issues, I questioned my sanity. Did this make me crazy? Would people look at me differently? I know now that 'crazy' is a phased out and offensive term when speaking about mental illness, but I really believed that's how people would view me. It took two more weeks and a lot of persuading to get on anti-depressive medication. Then another six weeks to notice a change in my mood and overall behavior.

While both disorders were managed in their own way, each has symptoms that pop-up even when you're doing everything possible to succeed against your disease. Diabetes has kidney failure, liver disease, heart failure, blindness, amputations, coma, and death on its possible complications list and every Endocrinologist will tell you even the best Diabetic is still at risk. Depression brings an unknown air of sadness, usually out of nowhere., leading to a spiral down a dark hole.

I have never claimed to be the best diabetic, I probably won't be number one, but I work every day to do my best, and that is really hard when you suffer from a disease that prohibits your energy to move or to take care of yourself. It's extremely scary to consider the consequences of managing diabetes when in a depressive episode. Lack of blood sugar testing can lead to extreme lows which cause seizures or extreme highs which cause excess sugar in the blood leading to organ failure and death. The worst part is I know this can happen but when I have an episode, I am powerless to do anything and that is the hardest thing to explain. I have held myself to be independent, strong, and reliant on nobody, but depression makes me weak and as a person who is faulted not to ask for help, I have to do just that.

My depression, by my Psychologist and Psychiatrist, is referred to in my sessions as "Medical-Related Depression". They explain it as depression induced by the toll of managing a chronic disorder. It's not the only trigger for my depression, but it's regarded as one of the biggest factors. It's hard, I will unfortunately admit. I've learned a lot though, how to live most importantly. There are no short cuts to happiness. Even with modern medicine, it's trial and error and the sheer human will to push through the sadness. I had a lot of support getting to where I am now, my mom, my sister, and every once in a while, a doctor who listened and believed in me. I know many other people who suffer from one or the other, possibly even both. I understand their struggles and am writing this in an effort to show that they're not alone and that their efforts, no matter how small or simple should be recognized and applauded.

To those suffering, I see you and your struggles, and I am proud of the progress you've made. Keep it up.