You’d think by now I’d be used to airports, delays, recycled cabin air, and flimsy airplane snacks. But nothing could have prepared me for that flight to Seattle—the one that started like every other business trip and turned into a lesson in boundaries, chronic illness, and standing your ground at 30,000 feet. My name’s Elizabeth. I’m a marketing consultant. That means I hop between cities helping brands reinvent themselves. From boutique hotels in Charleston to tech startups in San Jose, I’ve been everywhere.

And I love it. Even the chaos of travel. Even the suitcase that’s half-unpacked in my hotel room most nights. Even the TSA lines and overpriced neck pillows. But what I don’t love—what I’ll never get used to—is navigating all that while living with type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed at twelve. Back then, it felt like my entire world changed overnight. No more spontaneous sleepovers without backup insulin. No more skipping meals. No more candy unless it was a medical emergency. The thing is—most people don’t see diabetes. It’s invisible until it’s not. Until I’m shaking or sweating or reaching for glucose tablets in the middle of a meeting.