The Confessions

"I told my children their grandfather was a good man when he was not. I wanted to protect them from a complicated truth. Now they are adults and I wonder if I should have let them form their own view. I took that from them."

"I was jealous of my sister her whole life. Better grades, more friends, prettier, funnier. I never told her I was proud of her even when I was. She moved abroad five years ago and we barely speak. I think my jealousy drove that distance and I have only recently been able to admit it."

"I have not called my mother in three weeks. She will not call me because she does not want to be a burden. She is eighty one and lives alone. I know this about her and I still do not call. I do not know what is wrong with me."

"I told my family I could not make it home for Christmas one year because of work. I stayed home alone by choice. I just needed to not perform happiness for one year. Nobody knows that. They think I was miserable being away. I was the most peaceful I had been in years."

"I was a terrible older brother. Dismissive, unkind, always too busy. My brother idolised me and I treated his admiration like an inconvenience. He is one of the finest people I know and I spent his childhood making him feel small. I am trying to make up for it now but some things cannot be undone."

"I have always been my parents favourite and my brother knows it. I never did anything to change that dynamic. I just quietly accepted the better treatment and told myself it was not my fault. He grew up feeling second. That was partly my fault."

"I read my teenage daughters diary. I found nothing alarming but I violated her trust completely. She is twenty six now and we are close. I have never told her. I think about it whenever she tells me something in confidence."

"When my parents divorced I told my father things my mother had said in confidence. I was thirteen and angry. Those words contributed to a legal battle that hurt everyone. I never told either of them what I had done."

"My mother asked me on her deathbed if I had forgiven her for leaving when I was seven. I said yes immediately. I had not forgiven her. I said it because she was dying and I could not bear to give her pain in that moment. Ten years on I think I have finally forgiven her for real."

"I did not visit my father in his final weeks in hospital because I told myself I was too busy with work. The truth is I was afraid. When he died I had not seen him in two months. I will carry that forever."