Unpacking Diabetes Emotions.  It’s Not So Obvious.

Grief is at the heart of almost everything I teach. Living with diabetes—or any chronic condition—means you lose the life you thought you’d have. That loss is real. And most people don’t even realize they’re grieving. They often just feel like they are somehow failing or not strong enough.

I’ve talked about this kind of grief many times—both in my own journey and in my work as a nurse coach. But recently, I’ve noticed something else rising to the surface. Even though I processed my diabetes loss so long ago, occasionally something arises. Not sadness exactly. Not fear. Something more subtle. More alive. A quiet pull. An ache. A whisper that says, I still want something.

This isn’t grief anymore. It’s yearning.

A Deeper Understanding Begins to Form

At first, I thought yearning was just a softer form of sadness—perhaps from recent personal losses or the season I am in.  Part of it is about wanting the past to be different. But I know that cannot be, so I can let that part go.  But when I unpack yearning, there is a sense of being pulled somewhere, of some need that is unfulfilled.

This insight goes deep.  It’s not about what’s gone—it’s about what still matters. It’s not anchored in the past—it’s pointing to the present. And often, it’s asking: What is still missing?

That’s where the shift begins. Because when I understand what I’m truly yearning for, that clarity becomes actionable. It helps me make choices that feel more aligned, more honest, and more healing.

The Truth of My Yearning

Ironically, the things I yearn for most aren’t about diabetes tech or new innovations. Sure, those things would be helpful—but they’re not what nags at me. What I truly yearn for is a witness. Someone who sees the effort, the decisions, the invisible work I do every day. Even though I make it look easy, it’s not. Even though I don’t have complications, fear still shows up. Even with a great doctor, the system can feel cold and disconnected.

In those moments, I don’t need advice. I need connection. I need someone to say: I see you. I get it. I’m here. And even though I hold that space for others in my coaching work, I still need it, too. None of us are beyond our human emotions. Coaches, nurses, teachers—we all yearn to be witnessed in our full humanity.

Your Body Feels What You Haven’t Named

From a holistic and physiological perspective, unacknowledged yearning doesn’t just live in our hearts—it lives in our bodies. When your body senses lack (of anything), your sympathetic nervous system is activated. It senses danger. It changes your body chemistry and priorities survival functions over soothing. Healing becomes a lower priority. That’s not just a metaphor—it’s real chemistry. The longer we ignore our inner longing, the more our system floods with stress hormones. That can interrupt sleep, raise blood sugar, tighten muscles, cloud thinking, and chip away at peace.

But when we pause to notice the yearning—not fix it, just notice—our system begins to soften. We are more open to learning.  Curiosity blossoms.  We are less defensive and reactive.  We breathe. We listen. Sometimes, that’s all it takes for healing to begin.

A Heart-Centered Practice for Yearning

The point is not to make the yearning disappear, but to learn from it.   We can turn toward it. We can ask: What do you need me to know? And start letting it guide us forward.

For me, that often begins with something simple: one hand on my heart. It’s a small polyvagal practice I use often in my coaching. Pause, place your hand over your heart to connect with your vagus nerve.  Take a deep breath, relax and say ‘I am OK”.  It sends a message to the billions of cells in your body that all is well.  That there is no present danger. That it is safe to explore something new. It helps ease you into a state of healing and possibility.

If you’re carrying an ache you haven’t named—maybe it’s yearning. Not weakness. Not failure. Not grief.  Just a quiet reminder that your spirit is calling you.
Listen and learn.

Be well,

💌 Feeling this? I’d love to hear your reflections or your own experience with yearning and diabetes. You can reply directly or reach out anytime.

📬 Email me: patricia@betterdiabeteslife.com