For me, it was guilt. Overwhelming sense of constant guilt. It started in the end February 2018.

We went to Disneyland for the first time. My son was 5 years old, and it was amazing. For the most part. There were times when Brayden would struggle with emotions while we were, which is unlike him. He would cry and express “I don’t know why I’m crying, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I chalked it up to exhaustion. The next month went by and more symptoms showed up. Again, I chalked those up to missing his dad who works out of town. In April 2018, more signs showed up and I knew I had to bring Brayden to the doctor. It was a Friday morning. It was that day we found out Brayden was a Type 1 diabetic and there was nothing we could do or could have done to change it.

That’s when the guilt started. Signs usually show up months ahead. But I pushed them off. Guilt. The fact there was NOTHING I could do to change it. Guilt. The fact I was so upset for my son whose life has to be altered and he would have to have 4 shots a day, every day of his life. Guilt. I even developed guilt for feeling sad for son. After all, I still had him. I could still hug him, watch him play baseball, watch him fish, and hear him say my name. Some parents don’t have that ability with the illnesses their children face. So I had guilt about that.

This guilt consumed me for months as the changes continued. Until one day, it stopped. I learned to talk about it. You would think because I work in the mental health field, and was providing services to youth and families at that time, that I would know all the trick to do to help us all cope. But I didn’t. I learned to lean on my friends and talk. I learned to lean on my coworkers, who were like family. I learned that it was okay to let his father help me (I know crazy right? But I felt like I had to do it all and I did not want anyone’s help- not even help from his father- my husband).

When I finally gave all of my guilt to God, and let all the people who care about us so much in to help, it changed. That was how I coped, and how I still cope. I still have my hard days with it - feeling sad for my son having to take so many shots. But he is an all-star in life every single day and that pushes me to be like him. It pushes me to be better, it pushes me to do better, and it helps me feel thankful instead of guilty. Thankful that I can watch him fish, play baseball, and hear him singing in the shower (so so loud). Most importantly, thankful that I still have him and that it’s okay to talk about it.

My story may be different from others, and that’s okay. It’s okay for everyone’s mental health experience to be different. No one is greater or less than the next. That was also something I am thankful to have learned.

-Beth