Sometimes it skips a generation...

...this was the mantra with which I was raised. I know this was meant to ease my concerns, but there is no way to adequately describe the guilt and self-loathing I endured as a result of these five words. Each month, when the subject resurfaced, I would silently pray that it would skip me. Then the guilt would wash over me like an angry rain that left me feeling cold and empty. How could I think such a thing? The thought was fleeting, and as quickly as it entered, I would push it to the dark corners of my mind and pray I didn't "jinx" anyone. If it does skip me, what does that mean for my mother and future children? Does this somehow mean that I, in some small way, wish it on them? Could it skip two generations…do I dare to pray for three? These were the thoughts that consumed me; month after month, year after year.