Finding My Way with Type 2 Diabetes
 

It’s Never Too Late:
My Journey with Type 2 Diabetes

 The Weight We Don't Talk About: Living With Type 2 Stigma

By Mark Tiller

Disclaimer: The information provided is not intended to be used for medical diagnosis or treatment. Please consult your healthcare professional about your diabetes management. Individual symptoms, situations and circumstances may vary.

22/07/2026
 

If you're reading this, there's a good chance you already know the feeling. That moment in a consultation room when you're told — again — to "eat less and move more," as if you hadn't already been trying. Or the sting of an offhand comment from someone with Type 1, implying that your diabetes is somehow the easier version. The self-inflicted kind.

I've been there. More times than I care to count. And I want to talk about it — not to vent, but because I genuinely believe that naming these things is the first step to changing them, and they need to change.

The Judgement We Don't Ask For

Living with Type 2 diabetes comes with a peculiar kind of social burden. People — including, at times, healthcare professionals — often treat it as a lifestyle consequence rather than a medical condition. I've had a doctor wave away my questions about blood sugar spikes with a breezy "you know what you need to do." I've sat in waiting rooms wondering if the doctor was going to criticise me again and call me “non-compliant” as if I was a naughty child.

And then there's the intra-community stigma — the thing nobody really wants to talk about. I've been told, by people with Type 1, that I "chose" my diabetes. That I have it easy. That I don't really understand what it's like to live with the condition "properly." That one hurts in a different way — because it comes from people I thought would understand.

Here's the truth: no one chooses a chronic condition. And comparing suffering is a race no one wins.

When Numbers Become Report Cards

One of the cruelest tricks of diabetes management is how quickly it starts to feel like a pass/fail exam. You check your glucose, and in that moment, you're not just reading a number — you're being graded. A high reading after a meal becomes evidence of your failure. A good HbA1c means you've been "good." A poor one and the subtext — sometimes spoken out loud — is that you haven't been trying hard enough.

I internalised that for years. I'd avoid checking my levels because I didn't want to see a number that confirmed what I feared people already thought about me. And the irony is that avoiding the numbers made everything worse — both my health and my anxiety about it.

The Exhausting Work Nobody Sees

What I wish more people understood is the sheer mental load of managing this condition. Every meal is a calculation. Every walk, every stressful day at work, every late night — they all factor in. You're constantly making micro-decisions that most people never have to think about. And you're doing it quietly, invisibly, all day long.

That mental load is real, and it accumulates. It's one of the leading causes of what's called diabetes burnout — a point where you simply run out of the energy to keep managing perfectly. And when burnout hits, it's not laziness. It's the entirely human consequence of an entirely inhuman demand.

The tragedy is that burnout is often met with more judgement — which makes everything harder, not easier.

The Shame Cycle — and How to Break It

Shame is a trap. When we feel ashamed of our condition — or our numbers, or our choices — we hide. We avoid appointments, avoid monitoring, avoid conversations. And avoidance leads to poorer control, which leads to more shame. Round and round it goes.

I broke the cycle, slowly, by doing two things. First, I started talking about it — with people who understood, and eventually with my healthcare team, even when I was scared of the reaction. Second, I found tools that helped me feel less like a patient and more like someone in charge of their own health. I chose to prioritise my health.

Using my Libre 2 Plus sensor changed my relationship with monitoring completely. Instead of bracing myself to check a number and feel judged by it, I could see trends — context, movement, patterns. A high reading became information rather than a verdict. That shift in perspective is genuinely life-changing. Suddenly I was curious about my data rather than afraid of it, and that openness made making changes far easier. I no longer saw failure, I saw feedback.

What Needs to Change — and What You Can Do Right Now

I think we need a different conversation around Type 2. One built not on blame or simplistic advice, but one that acknowledges the complexity of the condition, celebrates the effort people are putting in every single day, and recognises the enormous emotional weight that sits alongside the physical one.

  • If you're reading this and you work in healthcare: please hear us. "Eat less, move more" is not a treatment plan on its own. Ask us about the emotional experience we are having. Notice when someone seems overwhelmed. Create a space where honesty feels safe.
  • If you're reading this with Type 1: we're not in competition. The diabetes community is stronger when it's united, and most of us know this already.
  • If you're reading this because you're in the middle of it right now — feeling judged, exhausted, or just quietly struggling — I want you to know: you are doing enough. The effort you put in every day, even when it's invisible, even when the numbers don't reflect it, matters enormously. You are not your HbA1c.

Start small. Talk to one person. Look at your data with curiosity rather than fear. And if technology can help you feel more confident and less alone in this — use it. 

Mark Tiller is a FreeStyle Libre Ambassador. All views are his own and not necessarily those of Abbott.

Finding My Way with Type 2 Diabetes
 

It’s Never Too Late:
My Journey with Type 2 Diabetes

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