You Matter: Daniel Newman’s Call To Overcome Diabetes Distress and Stigma
Once consumed by diabetes burnout and kidney failure, diabetes advocate Dan Newman now runs marathons, challenges stigma, and helps others believe their lives are bigger than their diagnoses.
Daniel Newman turned 40 this month. It was a birthday he didn’t expect to live to see. But there’s a lot about Newman’s life that has defied expectations.
Today, the London native is an active advocate for both diabetes and kidney health. He has transformed years of diabetes burnout, kidney disease, and internalized stigma into a life rooted in meaning and perspective, dedicated to helping others navigate their diseases and finding their purpose.
Diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at 10 and later experiencing kidney failure and a transplant at 32, he once lived in what he calls “a fearful state,” feeling judged by numbers and defined by his health complications. Today, nearly eight years post-transplant, he manages his diabetes with advanced technology, runs marathons, prioritizes mental health, and speaks openly about race, representation, and health equity.
Grounded by his upbringing in an immigrant community in North London and shaped by his experience as a Black man navigating a British healthcare system that didn’t always reflect him, Newman now works to guide, mentor, and inspire others in similar situations with the simple, powerful message of “You matter.” It has only been in the last few years that he has believed that for himself.
The dividing line of diagnosis
When Newman was diagnosed, he didn’t have the language or the support to understand what was happening. He had no family or friends with diabetes in his North London neighborhood. What he did understand, very quickly, was that his life had split into a before and an after.
“Going back to school in September was a real struggle, because I felt like I'd left as Daniel,” Newman said from his London home not far from where he grew up. “And then, I went back as Daniel – but with something else.”
Newman doesn’t remember much about that time. He recalls eating and drinking a lot, and always had his hands on a bottle of Ribena, a sugary British drink popular at the time. One summer day in 1996, seeing a movie with his family, he felt so unwell that they rushed him to the emergency room. There, he was told that he had diabetes.
There were no family members with type 1 diabetes, no role models, and no sense that what he was experiencing – physically or emotionally – was normal. Diabetes management meant injections, finger pricks, constant monitoring, and frequent appointments that left him feeling judged.
As a teenager, Newman wanted to be like everyone else. Instead, he found himself burning out.
“It was diabetes distress, diabetes burnout, but I didn’t know what it was back then,” he said. “It was just a feeling of, I’ve had enough. I can’t be bothered with this.”
Overcoming stigma and burnout with advocacy
The constant monitoring and going to appointments to track his health numbers as a young person made him feel judged. And, he felt he was failing.
“I was having very critical words spoken to me at a very young age and not really having the psychological support that a young person needs when living with a chronic condition across the board,” Newman said.
The diagnosis also collided with something deeper: stigma shaped by race, culture, and representation. As a Black man in England, Daniel was already navigating an environment where he often felt marginalized. In the diabetes world, that sense was amplified.
“When I became more active in the diabetes online community, I was like, ‘Hmm, there aren’t that many people that look like me,’” he said.
It was here, becoming involved with diabetes advocacy working for Breakthrough T1D (formerly JDRF), that he felt his eyes open to the challenges he had been up against. This allowed him to treat himself with more compassion, he said. It also gave him a larger community, perspective, and purpose to help others with diabetes and related conditions live healthier lives. In turn, his own path became clearer and easier. He began to see, for instance, how quickly harmful assumptions can form.
“You’re just seeing a Black person who’s overweight and linking the two,” he said. “And that is the stigma that’s there, and that’s the stigma we need to challenge.”
Culture mattered too, he learned, especially in how diabetes and kidney disease forced him to make dietary changes.
“I’m from a Caribbean background,” Newman said. “There are lots of seasonings and everything on food.” But there were no resources to help him navigate his culture alongside his diabetes and kidney care. “There wasn’t anything there for my specific cultural needs.”
A new diagnosis: Chronic kidney disease
By the time Newman was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease in 2013, he had already been living with type 1 diabetes for nearly two decades – and carried a heavy load of internalized blame. He remembers thinking: “Everything that my doctors warned me about has now come true. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
There were warning signs before the diagnosis, like protein in his urine and declining kidney function, but his burnout had dulled his ability to engage. Kidney disease added a new layer of complexity to an already demanding life.
“It felt like I had to pick,” he said. “Am I managing my type 1, or am I managing the chronic kidney disease?”
In 2018, Newman, then 32, received a kidney transplant from a living donor – preemptively, without dialysis. He had been told that life after a transplant would be “amazing,” and it was in many ways, but he was also hampered by constant anxiety about his body rejecting the new organ.
“I really struggled the first 18 months,” Newman said. “In my mind, I just thought, one morning I’m going to wake up, and that’s it.”
Turning point to a new phase
In 2026, he feels almost like another person – another version of Daniel that emerged. Seeing a renal psychologist after the transplant helped calm his anxiety, regain a sense of control, and a renewed sense of self.
After 22 years of living with diabetes, Daniel decided to devote himself to telling his story in the hopes that he could inspire others to overcome, and hopefully avoid, the distress, depression, and burnout that he had encountered.
“Actually, do you know what you need to do?” he recalled asking himself. “You didn’t like feeling this way. Maybe there are other people who might go through this and feel this way. Start to talk about it.”
He began sharing his journey publicly, working as an ambassador for companies like Insulet and Abbott, and reframing his relationship with diabetes, moving away from perfectionism and toward compassion.
“Type 1 diabetes doesn’t have or own me,” Newman said. “Back then, it felt like diabetes was dragging me through life. But now I’m like, ‘No, I’m living life, and you’re coming with me.’”
Technology also helped, particularly using an automated insulin delivery (AID) system. So did working in diabetes advocacy spaces, where he gained access to information he never had growing up. But the deepest shift was internal.
“I look back and think, maybe I didn’t love myself as much as I love myself now,” Newman said. “Or feel as deserving of life as I do now.”
Today, Newman lives with type 1 diabetes, a kidney transplant, and diabetic retinopathy – and he runs marathons. He takes his transplant medications, stays hydrated, runs regularly, and prioritizes mental health. Newman said he used to only think about how diabetes kept him from doing things.
“I was just living really small,” he said. “And how I live life now is that I can just do my best every day. I'm in control now of my own destiny.”
The core message that turned things around for Newman, and which is at the center of his advocacy, is the phrase “You matter.” This is especially resonant, he said, to those who come from marginalized communities like himself, but it’s true for everyone.
“You matter, your health matters. You might be living with a chronic condition, but your health is still the most important thing,” he said. “You matter, so that means you have to take control of your health.”
And while everyone deserves access to the healthcare and programs they need, it’s a struggle for many.
“You’re going to have to fight for it. And if you have to fight for it, that’s okay,” he added.
What Newman wants people to understand most is that complications don’t have to define or restrict what’s possible. “Don’t view complications as a failure, because you’re not a failure,” Newman said. “Life goes on. You can still do amazing things.”
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