When I was a child, my parents showed me the world. As I grew up, my mother showed me ataxia. When I got the diagnosis, my first image was the one I knew because of my mother. I really didn’t want it and I was rebellious, but when I thought about ataxia, she was what I saw. My disease was her. I saw that she is weak and helpless, and that’s what I felt. Uncertain of the future. Unable to plan. Ashamed, reluctant to talk. And I was like that too. Little, ashamed, vulnerable, scared, and insecure. Inside me. That
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