For a good stretch, eating carnivore kept my blood sugar where I wanted it. I had my numbers, I had my routine, and I felt like I had a handle on things. So it was genuinely discouraging when, despite doing everything I had been doing, the numbers started to climb again.
At first I did what a lot of us do — I second-guessed myself. Was I sneaking carbs without realizing it? Was I stressed? Sleeping badly? I tightened everything up, doubled down on the diet that had been working, and watched my meter. And the trend kept pointing the wrong way. It was not about willpower this time. My body was changing.
Diabetes is progressive
One of the hardest things to accept about type 2 diabetes is that it can be progressive. You can be doing the right things and still watch the disease push forward. That is not a personal failure, even though it feels like one in the moment. It took me a while to separate "my numbers went up" from "I did something wrong," because for a long time those felt like the same sentence.
Diet and exercise are powerful, and they are still the foundation of everything I do. But they are tools, not guarantees, and pretending that lifestyle alone would carry me forever was starting to cost me. The evidence was right there in my own logbook, climbing a little higher each week.
Making peace with medication
When my doctor brought up metformin, my first reaction was resistance. I had a story in my head that needing medication meant I had failed at managing this "naturally." That story was not doing me any favors. Metformin is one of the most studied, most widely used medications for type 2 diabetes, and choosing it was not a surrender — it was a smarter strategy.
So I started it. I am not going to pretend the adjustment period was glamorous; like a lot of people, it took my body a little time to settle in. But once it did, I could see the point of it. Metformin was another lever I could pull, working alongside the diet and the movement instead of replacing them.
What it did and did not do
Metformin helped. It nudged my numbers back in the right direction and gave me some room to breathe. That was real, and I was grateful for it. But — and this is where the next chapter of the story starts — "helped" turned out not to be the same as "enough." Over time it became clear that the pill was doing its part but could not carry the whole load on its own.
If you are staring at your own rising numbers and wrestling with the idea of starting medication, I understand the reluctance. But please do not let pride talk you out of a tool that could help you. This is my experience, not medical advice — talk to your own doctor — but for me, saying yes to metformin was the right call, even if it was not the final one.