I have learned to identify when I am denying myself joy. When I feel guilt or shame or the feeling of panic, I am not allowing myself the choice to be grateful.
I must speak about my emotions or become them.
I can say I am guilty for not getting more done around my home. For not being more active in my soon-to-be-teen's life. His dad is taking over a lot of the activities: showing up at piano lessons, taking our son to boy-scouts (he has done that for years, and I have always felt guilty). I could be getting my son to show me his homework, getting up earlier to make him breakfast, or supervising his piano lessons.
To give myself credit, I do arrange his doctor's appointments. I am reading him Birdology each night, something he was unsure he would like but that we are both quietly enjoying together a few pages at a time. If I did not have this time with him, we would have little one-on-one time. I sometimes cajole him to walk on his newly knitted leg, by taking him places. But I am mom, and perhaps not so needed or wanted as I was.
I guess my guilt is also about an unspoken concern: Have I done something wrong that I am going to regret (or need to correct) and lose this chance allowing him to grow away from me, bit by bit by bit? Maybe it is time for a Gibran poem...