I guess I should start with my diagnosis. Well, I was very lucky with that. I was diagnosed in December of 1994, when I was nine. My mom is a type 1 too, and she recognized the symptoms early on. Actually, she got suspicious when I asked for a second glass of apple juice during dinner. We were at a restaurant, and when we got home, my mom checked my blood sugar with her meter (which was blue and huge like a brick). I don't remember what the number was, I guess something in the high 200s. And off we went to the next hospital.
I wasn't shocked. My parents also weren't, so I thought I had no reason to worry. Okay, probably they were, but I didn't realize it. But they already knew what everything was about and they knew there had been a 3% chance of passing it on. Hell, they knew more about diabetes than the doctors treating me. That probably helped a lot for me to feel secure. For me it was a new exciting task, that I had to fulfill (I was an eager student at school). I wanted to learn and do everything necessary (I did my own shots from day one), but I didn't realize what it meant to have diabetes yet. It hit me, when I was back at home for some weeks. That my life had changed forever, that it wasn't a task that could be finished, but that I had to take care of it for the rest of my life.
Another interesting fact: I never realized my mom had diabetes before my own diagnosis. Her testing and injecting was so part of everyday life, that I never questioned (about) it. Even when I got home, I needed a while until I saw it, because I was so absorbed of learning everything.
Well, I got used to it, I guess. At some point during growing up, I got too used to it... I lost interest. And so I had some bad years, A1c wise, while I was studying at the university. Until it hit me again. That I have too take care of myself, that I am responsible for my body and my health. At that point, I was overwhelmed again, frightened, and very alone. So I turned to Google. I don't remember what my search term was, but I found the diabetes blog of another twenty something, who seemed to write about my fears, my every day struggles, my lows. (Of course she wrote about hers, but it felt so... close.) I found more blogs, I found tudiabetes, I found new hope, motivation and support. So I became a B.A.D. (born again diabetic).
Right now, my life doesn't revolve around diabetes. There are periods when it did and will again, but there are also periods of burnout and disinterest. Right now, it is in the middle which is best for me. (And maybe for you, because it means that I'm not writing about the D only.)