However, modern medical science and genetics have fundamentally challenged this metaphor. Genetics has shown us that the blank page is not truly blank at all. Many biological predispositions, inherent dispositions, vulnerabilities, and potential health trajectories are already pre-printed on that page long before anyone picks up a pen to write the first chapter.
Simultaneously, the field of psychology offers a vital counterweight to biological determinism. It tells us that no matter what was pre-printed on that page, no matter which hereditary forces have etched their lines, and no matter what challenges they left lingering between the lines, human beings still possess the capacity to turn the page. We retain agency over our narrative, even when the margins are heavily constrained.
Yet, as anyone who has observed the vast inequities of human life can attest, some pages are significantly heavier to turn than others. The effort required to navigate daily existence is not distributed equally among all members of the human family, a disparity vividly illustrated in the contrasting lives of two siblings born to the same parents.
Her Page and His
The first encounter took place when she was 36 years old. She was single and in the very late stages of Huntington’s disease, a devastating neurodegenerative condition for which modern medicine currently provides no protection and no cure. It is a relentlessly progressive illness that slowly strips individuals of their physical control, cognitive function, and independence.
Her younger brother presented a starkly different picture of human existence. He was thoroughly over-privileged, having been handed virtually every resource, safety net, and advantage that a wealthy family could possibly provide. He lived a lavish, unencumbered life, openly proud of how many hearts he had broken, how frequently he had been unfaithful, and how cleverly his team of financial advisors helped him avoid paying a single penny in taxes. He took immense pride in how often his expensive corporate lawyers had successfully extricated him from the exact types of serious trouble for which an ordinary person would have served hard prison time.
During one conversation, reflecting his detached view of the working class and his own invulnerability, he laughed and remarked, "The garbage man who picks up my garbage pays me to make the garbage he picks up."
Crucially, he did not inherit the devastating genetic mutation that claimed his sister’s life.
Huntington’s disease is an autosomal dominant condition, meaning that each child of a parent with the disease carries a 50 percent statistical chance of inheriting the faulty gene. She and her brother were born to the exact same parents, sharing the same familial origin, yet only one of them was handed this catastrophic biological page.
Her personal story came to a remarkably fast and tragic end. Just a few months after our initial encounter, she passed away. During the brief, poignant meetings they shared, she confided how almost every romantic partner who had entered her life had ultimately taken advantage of her good nature and then abandoned her when she needed them most. Summarizing her painful pattern in her own words, she observed, "I have a gift for picking men who are copies of my brother."
If the trajectory of this narrative leads an observer to expect a tale of triumphant overcoming—perhaps that she won prestigious international prizes, conquered her diagnosis through sheer willpower, or achieved extraordinary fame despite her physical condition—the reality offers no such cinematic consolation. She did not achieve worldly greatness. All she ever tried to do with her limited time was to secure an ordinary life, free from constant exploitation and overwhelming suffering. Yet, given what was pre-printed on her biological page, sustaining an ordinary life was a legacy that few human beings could ever hope to match.
Page Weight
Contemporary psychological and sociological research suggests that human beings easily notice the obstacles we are forced to push against, while remaining largely blind to the invisible advantages that silently carry us forward. This cognitive bias may explain why her brother could laugh through life without a care in the world: he had simply never been forced to push against anything substantial. His path had been cleared by wealth, health, and unearned privilege.
This concept can be understood as "page weight"—the immense emotional and physical effort it takes simply to turn what was already printed on our page before anyone picked up a pen. From an external perspective, page weight is entirely invisible. Observers looking at two individuals cannot see the hidden friction of their existence. However, if your ordinary, everyday life consistently costs you significantly more emotional, physical, and mental energy than other people’s lives seem to cost them, you are likely experiencing the heavy burden of page weight.
On one occasion, during a private moment when she could not have known anyone was listening, she was heard speaking to another terminally ill patient facing a similarly bleak prognosis. Offering a profound perspective forged through immense suffering, she said, "Our biggest accomplishment is not to become bitter, and every day we have the privilege to wake up, to say hi."
Her brother was handed a pristine page that he never had to struggle to turn. She, conversely, was handed a page that no rational human being would ever voluntarily choose, and she spent her tragically short life quietly, valiantly trying to turn it. She never demanded or expected anything extraordinary from the world. She only hoped for what the vast majority of humanity receives every single day without ever pausing to notice: the quiet dignity of an ordinary life.
If you are currently caring for, or grieving, someone affected by Huntington’s disease, the Huntington Society of Canada and the Huntington’s Disease Society of America offer dedicated support networks, educational resources, and counseling services for families navigating the challenges of the condition.
