Like many of us, my childhood was imperfect, to say the least. For myself, my family, and those around me, life was defined by small-town problems and little opportunity. I witnessed battles with addiction, life with a learning disability, every type of abuse, unresolved traumas, and lack of boundaries.

Sometimes, these were my own experiences.

Sometimes, I simply watched.

Regardless, these experiences told me that my worth could only be dictated by the words spoken and actions taken by someone else. Despite the love I was fortunate to receive, I was hopelessly broken. Faulty. Undeserving. So to love myself or demand more? That seemed impossible.

When I was 11, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I sat in my harshly unempathetic doctor's office, anxious and very sick, and received the most abrupt, forceful, life-changing news. After a lengthy hospital stay where I learned to count every carbohydrate and give myself every shot of insulin, I lost a tremendous part of my childhood. I functioned like an adult, just in a tiny 11-year-old body, with a still-innocent and growing mind. I didn’t yet understand. Thousands of injections, finger sticks, lows, highs, hospital visits, and lessons later, I still don’t. I continue to define what being a chronic illness warrior means to me.

Beyond my diagnosis, I have witnessed the many ways in which this world fails us. In which it’s failed me. Only after deep inner work—reflection, forgiveness, honesty, affection, healing—have I found a path through these complex hardships to self love. I continue to meet this “healed” version of me each day. To make more space for myself. To challenge. To inspire. To learn and relearn. To affirm. To hold accountable. To feel worthy. To know myself as beloved.

And I suspect you’re here because you want the same.