Bria, at first glance, is just like any other 16-year-old girl. She loves playing volleyball, participating in school clubs, wandering the mall with her friends, and driving around aimlessly with the music turned up loud. But behind that ordinary teenage life is a challenge that most people don’t see: the invisible and exhausting reality of living with Type 1 diabetes. 

​

Diagnosed at just two years old, Bria has had to master the art of balancing her blood sugar around the clock by using a continuous glucose monitor. “Sometimes I feel drowsy or incapable of walking,” Bria explains. “People don’t understand that I can’t be on top of my game 100% of the time.”

​

The physical challenges are heavy enough, but Bria also shoulders something less visible: judgment and painful assumptions. “People often think I have Type 2 diabetes because of my weight,” she shares. “One boy even said I was too big to fit in a golf cart. I know he wasn’t thinking, but words like that don’t just disappear.” Hurtful comments and stereotypes sting, especially when people assume she caused her illness or believe that she can't enjoy the same foods as her peers. “Type 1 is different. It’s genetic. I didn’t do anything to deserve it. And yes, I can eat what I want, as long as I manage my insulin.” What she wishes most is that people would ask questions, instead of jumping to conclusions. 

​

Still, moments of true empathy shine through. During one volleyball game, Bria’s blood sugar dropped suddenly, and she had to sit out. Instead of ignoring her or dismissing her struggle, a teammate simply brought her water and sat beside her. “She didn’t treat me like I was weak or dramatic. She just cared,” Bria recalls. That small moment of compassion stuck with Bria. 

​

Today, Bria carries that same spirit forward. She founded an online support group in South Florida for girls who have been newly diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, encouraging them to keep playing sports, running for leadership positions or class president, and living their lives with joy and confidence. Her message is simple but powerful: a diagnosis doesn’t define you. 

 

For Bria, empathy is not just a feeling—it’s an action. It’s about stepping in, however small the gesture, to lighten the load that someone may be carrying. “Empathy means realizing that someone might be struggling even if you can’t see it, and choosing to be kind no matter what.”