There are countless stories in the chronicles of my family’s journey with Huntington’s Disease. Sitting and writing them is so much harder than I anticipated. This is stolen from my other blog: Tales From the Motherland. Please leave a comment; I’d love to hear what you’re thinking.
Who knows what brings someone to confess. There are stories ripe with tales of death-bed confessions, but this is not that. There are people who confess to seek forgiveness. In my case, that’s not going to happen; it’s too late. Catholics choose to confess all the time; I am not a Catholic. This is purely a confession for the sake of coming clean. It’s time to tell this tale and let it go. It’s the classic tale of how a lie takes on a life of its own, and you find yourself in a deep pit, willing to do crazy things to cover your tracks. For the sake of full disclosure, my mother is the only one who could have freed my conscience, and I didn’t have the courage to tell her this story, while she was alive. If she’s watching, she won’t be happy.
This story starts with a…
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