Friday, 20 March 2026

Moving from blame to support: rethinking food insecurity in diabetes

Posted by Ruth Boocock, Associate Professor and Dietitian, Teesside University, in Nutrition and Hydration Week.

This work started with a deceptively simple question: ‘How do clinicians identify food insecurity in people living with type 2 diabetes, and what actually helps once they do?’

By clinicians, I mean the people working directly with patients, for example GPs, nurses, dietitians, and others working in busy, often stretched diabetes services.

To explore this, I reviewed published research from across the world. Over many coffees, I read and debated papers, regularly asking other colleagues: ‘Is this really a pattern, or am I reading too much into it?’

What came through very clearly were the human stories beneath the data. Clinicians wanting to help, but constrained by time and systems. People with diabetes trying to manage blood glucose, while also worrying about whether there is enough food at home.


Asking about food only works if there’s something to offer next

Many clinicians want to ask patients about access to food and some already do, but the evidence shows that screening alone is not enough.

Without time, clear processes, or obvious referral routes, screening often stalls. I repeatedly came across similar experiences: ‘I asked the question. They said yes. And then I didn’t know what to do’. That moment matters. It can leave clinicians feeling stuck and distressed, and patients feeling exposed and unsupported.

One of the key messages from the evidence is that this isn’t about individual clinicians doing more. Food insecurity needs to be part of everyday systems, with prompts, shared responsibility across teams, and links to support that actually exists. Without that organisational backing, raising the issue of food tends to fall down the priority list, especially on busy clinic days.


Trust makes disclosure possible


You can’t script disclosure about food insecurity. People tend to talk when they feel listened to and not judged.

Shifts in practice, even just small changes in language came up repeatedly. A nurse replacing ‘Why aren’t you following the diet?’ with ‘What gets in the way?’ or a GP explaining ‘We ask everyone about access to food, because it can affect diabetes management.’

These shifts matter, they help move conversations away from blame and towards problem‑solving.

There was also a consistent tension between dietary advice and financial reality. Guidance may be clinically sound but still impossible to follow when money is tight. Recommended foods and ideal meal plans don’t always match what someone can afford or access.

Across the evidence, one message stood out, ‘Starting where people are really matters’. Advice framed around better, not perfect is far more likely to support engagement than aiming for an ideal that feels unreachable.


This isn’t something clinicians can fix alone

Many clinicians described feeling unsure where to send people for help. Knowledge of local food support was often limited or quickly out of date. Some avoided the conversation altogether, worried about raising an issue they couldn’t help with.

Where things seemed to work better was in areas with strong links between health services and community organisations such as food banks, pantries, community kitchens, and social prescribers. Not just signposting, but relationships and connection.

Another common theme was confidence and skills. Here, even when people accessed food support, they didn’t always feel able to turn unfamiliar ingredients into meals that worked for diabetes. Practical, community‑based support, including cooking sessions or simple recipe swaps helped bridge that gap.


What did I learn?


One of the biggest surprises was how rarely food insecurity appeared on its own. Transport costs, prepayment meters, missed appointments, and medication routines were often part of the same picture.

Stigma also ran throughout the existing research. Many people felt blamed for their diabetes and ashamed of needing help with food. Seen in that light, it becomes easier to understand why disclosure feels risky.

Perhaps most surprising was the impact of small system changes. Adding two evidence-based questions to patient records and a clear referral route doesn’t sound transformative. In practice, it can change conversations and access to support in very real ways.


Where I’ve landed

I started with the academic literature. I ended with a clearer sense that while food insecurity shows up in clinical settings, it isn’t something clinicians can or should be expected to solve alone.

If we want better diabetes outcomes, we need systems that make it:
  • easier to ask about food
  • realistic to respond to what we hear, and
  • normal to work alongside community organisations beyond clinic walls.
My review is now published and available here.

If you’ve tried something that worked, or something that didn’t, I’d really like to hear about it. Being open about the messy space between screening and support feels like a good place to start.

Thursday, 5 February 2026

More than quit rates - our smoking research was about complexity, trust, and real voices

Posted by Angela Rodrigues, Associate Professor at Northumbria University, and co-lead of the Fuse Behaviour Change Cluster, and Team

By the time we wrapped up our final interviews, we felt a mix of pride, exhaustion, and curiosity. Pride because we’d managed to complete a complex mixed-methods evaluation across four pilot sites. Exhaustion because, well, public health research never seems to run smoothly, and we had a few recruitment bumps along the way. And curiosity because we still weren’t sure how all the pieces would fit together. This was a mixed-methods evaluation of a 20-week smoking cessation service in the North East & North Cumbria.

The context: why this service mattered

When we first got involved, the idea was simple: evaluate an enhanced stop smoking service designed specifically for people living with severe mental illness (SMI). People with SMI experience stark health inequalities. On average, they die 15-20 years earlier than the general population, largely due to chronic physical health conditions rather than psychiatric causes. Smoking is a major reason for this health gap, and it is something that can be changed. Yet many tobacco dependence services do not adequately meet their needs.


The service offered more support than the standard provided by the local council, combining behavioural support with medication-assisted treatment over 20 weeks. It followed a ‘cut down to quit’ model, and aimed to be person-centred, flexible, and responsive.

Our approach: mixed methods and lived experience

We used a mixed-methods approach, including quantitative analysis of recruitment and outcomes, surveys with service providers, qualitative interviews with both staff and service users, and a review of Smokefree Taskforce documents. We started with a well-defined plan, but the process taught us to embrace flexibility. Recruitment was slow. Referral pathways shifted. Data systems didn’t always talk to each other. And finding service users willing to be interviewed was harder than we expected.

One of the most rewarding aspects was working with our Lived Experience Advisory Panel (LEAP). They helped shape our protocol, refine our interview questions, and interpret findings. Their input reminded us why we do this work. It’s easy to get lost in methodological frameworks, but the real insight often comes from lived experience. One LEAP member words stuck with us:
“You need to understand what it’s like to be told to quit smoking when smoking is the only thing that gets you through the day.”
What we found: complexity at every level

The Behaviour Change Wheel framework (figure 1) helped us make sense of what was happening on the ground. Service providers used a range of strategies, including medication, leaflets, nicotine e-cigarettes, planning, and social support. Most felt capable and motivated to deliver the service, but some found it more harder than expected. Complexity was a recurring theme, as illustrated in one advisor words:
“It’s not just about smoking, it’s about everything else going on in their lives.”
Figure 1: Visual map of key themes identified in our study

We also saw how broader systems shaped delivery. Some sites had strong links with primary care; others struggled. Data recording was patchy. Staff wanted more training, not just in smoking cessation, but in understanding mental health complexity more broadly. And while the service was designed to be flexible, that flexibility sometimes created confusion. Who was eligible? How long should support last? What counted as a successful quit?

For service users, the benefits were clear: 
  • better physical and mental health
  • financial savings
  • fewer unpleasant smells
  • and fewer side effects than expected.
But staying engaged was tough. Motivation fluctuated. Life got in the way. Participants reminded us regularly that behaviour change doesn’t happen in a vacuum:
“I wanted to quit, but then my meds changed and everything fell apart.”
The challenge and value of qualitative work

Personally, we found the qualitative interviews both the most challenging and the most illuminating part of the process. Some participants were open and reflective; others were more reserved and required extra support and reassurance to feel comfortable speaking openly, particularly service users. We learned to be flexible in our approach, arranging a casual phone call with service users to build a rapport prior to the interview.

Despite the difficulties recruiting service users, once they were engaged in the interviews, all were eager and willing to share their experiences. We learned that it is important to develop a level of trust with service users, and that patience and empathy can encourage openness and in-depth understanding.

There were challenges too. We had hoped for more interviews with service users, more consistent data, and deeper engagement with those delivering the service. In particular, connecting with service deliverers proved difficult, largely due to the time lag between service implementation and the research evaluation. By the time we began our research, staff had moved on, memories had faded, and priorities had shifted, making it harder to capture a full and accurate picture of delivery. But public health research rarely hands you a neatly packaged story. What it does offer is insight into systems, into people, and into the messy, unpredictable reality of trying to improve lives.

Why it worked: partnership and collaboration


Looking back, we think the study worked because it was grounded in genuine partnership. The Smokefree NHS strategic team were incredible, collaborative, responsive, and deeply committed to making the service work.

We built relationships with service providers who shared their experiences openly, with LEAP members who challenged our assumptions, and with service users who trusted us enough to talk. Within our research team, we supported each other through the inevitable ups and downs. That collective effort, across roles, organisations, and lived experiences, is what made the project feel meaningful.

This experience has already shaped how we’re approaching future projects. Next time, we’ll go in with clearer expectations, more flexible timelines, and a deeper appreciation for the emotional labour involved, not just for us as researchers, but for the people we’re working with.

Researching smoking cessation in people living with severe mental illness isn’t just about measuring quit rates or evaluating service models. It’s about recognising the complexity of their lives, earning trust, and ensuring their voices shape the research process. More than anything, this project reminded us that we, as researchers, must be more attuned, more patient, and more willing to adapt.



About the authors:

Dr Angela Rodrigues, Associate Professor, Northumbria University, and co-lead of the Fuse Behaviour Change Cluster

Dr Lauren Hoult, Associate Lecturer, Researcher in Behaviour Change & Public Health, Northumbria University

Prof Katie Haighton, Professor in Public Health and Wellbeing, Northumbria University