The “Blame Game”
It’s not my fault, I’m diabetic, is it?
I blame my forefathers!
Search that family tree — I’ll bet there’s diabetes hanging from those branches somewhere.
I picture myself in the “family forest,” (pic. below) reaching up and pushing away the leaves. “They’re in there somewhere, I just know it.” I walk for miles, climbing trees, shaking branches, hoping those diabetic family members will fall out onto the ground, make themselves known to me and accept their responsibility for MY dilemma, MY disease.
Did I say “MY?” Hmmm, I think I did. Could it be that it’s not their fault? Could I have done this to myself? I consider this premise — but only for a moment. Denial creeps in. No way! Back to the forest. I review my family tree: Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Nana? Nope. I continue on my journey, in search of the culprit(s). Aunts, Uncles? C’mon! Cousins, somebody? Where are you?
Then, right in front of me, on one of the newer, lower branches, I see someone. He’s got the “D” tattooed on his shoulder. It’s my brother! Sure enough, there’s my genetic link. He has diabetes. Somehow, I feel better. But, why? What difference does it make? He didn’t do this to me. He didn’t give me diabetes. The reality is, even if there are more of them, way up on the higher branches (and I’ll bet there are), it doesn’t matter. It’s time to accept responsibility for my own life.
The “Blame Game” just doesn’t fit into my story of diabetes. Blaming genetics is a waste of time. I have it. Period. I accept it. Now, if I don’t do what’s best for me, who do I have to blame?
Time to move on, accept responsibility for my life and do the best I can to help my body fight the diabetes. Eat right, exercise, monitor my blood sugar. Do the RIGHT thing.
Here I go (again) — One day at a time.
I’m counting EVERY day as Day #1.
Wish me luck, and H E L P! [please…]