Diabetes. Very occasionally— at the most profound or emotional moments of my four-year journey with Type One Diabetes— I’ll just sit down and listen to myself say the word. I think that hearing the word and thinking of it as nothing but a word is kind of nice. Diabetes is, after all, just a single word. And thinking of it as such gives it less power, less ability to define me. A word surely can’t change or dispirit a person. Diabetes is a word. And this word is merely a label for the frequent checking of my blood sugar and nonstop insulin dosages. It is a label for my parents’ sighs of relief when my blood sugar rises or falls to my target range, and it is my aching head or shaky hands when it’s not within that range. But, this word is not a label for me.

My name is Gemma Schneider. I’m a sophomore in high school and I have a lot to be thankful for: great friends, a loving family, and the knowledge that, if and when I need it, I can always turn to these people (my friends and my family) for their irrevocable love and support. I like to go to the gym with my friends, curl up and read books at home, travel with my family, walk with my dog… all that stuff. And, in addition, I also happen to have Type One Diabetes. And that’s a little bit of a burden. But, I try not to let that burden define me.

Growing up with Diabetes has been rough and I won’t deny that it has changed me. It has altered my ability to pick up a piece of food and put it in my mouth without a care in the world. It has made it harder to run at the gym, or even shop at the mall. It’s harder to order food and it’s harder to walk my dog. And, at times, it’s even harder to feel like I fit in. Not impossible, though. Diabetes has made things hard, but it has made nothing impossible.

Every single kid (and adult) with Diabetes is completely able (if not particularly motivated and determined) to prosper and do anything that he or she desires in life. When I was first diagnosed, I had no idea that this was the case. Now, though, I realize how much I am capable of despite the fact that I have Diabetes. Sure, if my blood sugar is low, I might need to take a break from jogging or swimming or even walking for a little while. But, that doesn’t mean that I won’t return to whatever I am doing once my glucose rises to a normal range. In fact, I’ve found that I typically have ten times more determination and strength after any of those necessary breaks. That also applies to instances within the real world, away from the track field or swimming pool. So basically, my four years with diabetes has shown me that my mom (and Kelly Clarkson) was right when she said: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

That being said, however, there still isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish for an end to the painful finger pricks and enervating glucose dips from high to low and back again. There is no day that I say, “Hey, having Diabetes is just the best thing ever.” Last time I checked, nobody— no matter how optimistic one may be— has ever said that. Everybody wants a cure. A cure, whether it’s ready in two or twenty-two years, would be life-changing. And, though one small donation may seem trivial, it really can make a difference. Don’t worry, though— while the JDRF waits for everyone’s generosity and help and support to take its effect, we will all continue to demonstrate our strength and resilience and our ability to separate ourselves from the disease that burdens us. We will help prove that whatever doesn’t kill us really can make us stronger.

Please consider making a Fund A Cure donation in honor of Gemma and others living with T1D by clicking here.