By Laura Moquin
It turns out one semester wasn't good enough, but I truly
learned a lesson the hard way. I would go to bed thinking about
that lie, I still wake up thinking about that lie, I've prayed
for forgiveness. I hated who I was reduced to. Recently, I've
began to realize that it's okay. I made a wrong choice, but I'm
truly sorry and I can't let my lie haunt me anymore.
I've learned that when you are 16 years old and backed into a
corner, you'll say what you need to say. That experience has
taught me that it's vital to my survival to be okay with my
disorder. I don't have to explain myself to anybody.
When I can't do things now, I no longer see the need to make
up an elaborate lie. A simple "no, I can't do that; I have a
muscle disorder," will do. Having CMT has taught me many things.
At first, it taught me to be a good liar, but eventually taught
me to be compassionate and to be a better person.
I guess I'm writing this as an act of contrition... as
passing down a hard lesson learned. The only way to make others
okay with CMT is to raise awareness and no one can do that if
they are not accepting of what they have. Yes, it can be a
terrible disease, but I am grateful every day for the lessons it
has taught me. I am grateful for my CMT because it has helped me
to become the person I am, and I have dedicated my life to
helping others feel like they don't have to lie. It's okay to be
who you are, CMT and all.