It was the scariest moment of my life, the big transformation in my diet, my daily lifestyle and the way that my friends and relatives regarded me. I sat on my hospital bed, staring out of the window, unsure of what to expect. My mother sat on the bed next to me, whilst my father sat, having collapsed into a chair, shaking his head and wondering why all the world's problems, piled themselves onto one person.

At least two hours had past since my school doctor had sent me home to pack my bags and the glorious summer sun had been eclipsed by the gloomy black clouds, forming a never-ending darkness. As inescapable as it seemed I made a strong resolution, to survive the pressure and find the sunlight again and find it, I did. My determination was stronger than ever; I wanted to lead a normal life, dreadfully. It was my one desire. In the time leading up to my diagnosis, I had been very unhappy at secondary school and I had often been in trouble. My diagnosis was in July 2002, so the school year had ended and I wasn't going back until September. When I went back, it was made known to everyone that I had been suffering from an undiagnosed medical condition - but now I had my treatment.

So here I had a good fresh start. I was almost 14 and was back at school. According to the teachers, everything that had gone wrong in the previous two years was down to my undiagnosed diabetes - I had a clean slate and they expected everything to be fantastic from then on. But with the good comes the bad - and the bad is not something to be ignored.

It all boiled down to the fact that people looked at me differently. The problem was that people didn't see the diabetes as being part of me - I wasn't diabetic, the diabetes was me. They couldn't see past that, despite there being three others who suffered from the same condition. Maybe it was because I was already disabled before I became diabetic, or maybe I just got unlucky - but whatever it was, being diagnosed with diabetes robbed me of what was left of my identity; that's how I felt, and that's what I had to live with. At one point I felt so unhappy that I lost confidence in doing my injections, I went for three days without taking my insulin - and I didn't tell anyone. I was very lucky I didn't get poorly.

I was often bullied before my diagnosis, but afterwards it became more frequent and a lot worse. The core aim of a bully is to make their victim feel inferior to everyone and everything - and they're good at it. The worst time was on my 14th birthday. Some of pupils in my year brought in a birthday present for me - a bag of dog food. They said it was because 'it didn't have any sugar in it'.

But the pupils weren't the only ones who were guilty of bullying. There was an incident in PE. I don't remember much about it - only that I was eating my lunch in the isolation room and couldn't understand what I'd done wrong - when I asked the teacher on duty why I was in there, he just laughed and said I must be stupid if I didn't know. Then I was made to apologise to my PE teacher for my bad behaviour - nobody believed that I didn't know what was going on. Apparently, I had a hypoglycaemic attack in PE and was really aggressive - but nobody realised what was going on and they locked me in the isolation room. My parents were shocked when they found out - they sent an email to the people involved explaining what to do if it happened again and how to treat a hypo. But it happened again - and no one took the slightest notice of the email. I left that school at the end of that year.

I've had a couple of other really bad hypos, which were really scary - one where I passed out and had to have ambulance - I was at home then. The other bad one was worse for me because I was semi-conscious but had no control over what I was doing. This one happened in a shopping centre in Maidenhead - I twisted my knee very badly when I fell and ended up with crutches and intensive physiotherapy. My knee is still quite weak and collapses sometimes without warning. But I had my parents with me both times - they looked after me and I was safe.

My new school was light years away from the other one. When I started there, I had felt cut off from the world and other people. It was like I was in a tight bottomless pit, surrounded by blackness. I tried to reach out, to grab on to something or somebody, but there was nothing there, so I just fell deeper and deeper into the blackness. I dreamed up this nightmare image night after night and it was eating me away bit by bit. But that all soon changed - as far as I could see my new school was my escape route, the only way out.

The teachers and the care-staff - who looked after the pupils out of school hours, were brilliant - and so supportive. They wanted me to feel good and to do well, and the pupils accepted me for who I was - it didn't matter to them that I had to slip away at meal times to do an injection. With the help of the staff and pupils, I began to look at life more positively. I started to accept my diabetes as being something I could live with - something good. Being diabetic gave me a reason to eat more healthily and to get more get exercise. Once I was a bit fitter, I started to feel happier about myself. It also meant that if I went out to a pub or restaurant, I could have something 'naughty' for dessert and really enjoy it - I would write 'TREAT' in my record book and leave my doctor guessing the details! I appreciated life and the fact that I could be a lot worse off than being diabetic.

One thing that made me sad at my new school was that they had a swimming pool. I never used it - I was too afraid of my blood sugars dropping and being left to drown - because that's what would have happened if my old school had owned a swimming pool. Luckily they didn't. But even now I won't go swimming. I went once a few weeks after my diagnosis, but haven't been back since - I was 13 then, now I'm 19. However, my diagnosis did help me to face other fears - and not just my own. It helped me to cope with pain better, which has made me a stronger person in general. It also helped me to help my friend. She has always been terrified of needles and blood - which is not very good as she often has to have blood tests in hospital for different reasons. I persuaded her to watch me do a blood test a few times and eventually she managed to do one of her own - she's not afraid any longer when she goes for her tests because I helped her to face her fear.

My diagnosis brought me closer to my dad, as he is a type 2 diabetic and now we have even more in common. My mum is brilliant too - if I am poorly she helps me do my injections. Throughout everything, I remained close to my family. They were my rock in the stormy sea. Especially my parents, who were and still are there for me, whatever happens. They have shown me the true meaning of unconditional love and I am eternally grateful to them.

So there you have it, two intertwined stories of a young diabetic, the good and the bad. This is an account of self-esteem, inner struggles, acceptance and the people you can depend on. Real life is complicated and not one of these stories, but both are mine - the positives and the negatives. I have learnt from both and I will treasure them as my own forever, no matter how unpleasant. As for my resolutions, they are somewhat different from when I began telling my story - This is the diary of a survivor and in reality, what is a 'normal life' anyway?