The gift of community is what I’m most thankful for this year

Today, on Thanksgiving, I find myself reflecting on what has truly sustained me this year, not just physically, but also emotionally and spiritually. The answer always circles back to one thing: the Huntington’s disease (HD) community.

This beautiful, resilient, imperfectly perfect family has given me a sense of belonging I didn’t know I needed. It’s not a community built on shared ease, but rather shared courage. Every message, hug, Zoom call, and conference connection reminds me that even though HD can feel isolating, none of us are walking this road alone.

When I think of community, I think of the faces and voices that fill my days with encouragement and support. I think of fellow advocates who use their voices to raise awareness, caregivers who show up every day with a love that humbles me, and families who somehow keep hope alive even after great loss. I think of the researchers and clinicians who have devoted their lives to finding treatments and improving care. I think of the young adults who carry the gene but still dare to dream big, and of the late-stage warriors who remind us all that grace and dignity are possible even in the hardest moments.

Each person in this community represents a different chapter of the HD story, and together, those chapters create a book of bravery that I’m honored to be part of.

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There are the caregivers, who may not wear capes but embody heroism daily. They lift, feed, bathe, soothe, advocate, and fight for their loved ones, often while carrying their own quiet heartbreak. I see you. You are the heartbeat of our community. Your love keeps families whole, and your sacrifices remind us that compassion is the strongest medicine of all.

There are the caregivers turned advocates who continue showing up even after their loved ones have passed. They channel their grief into purpose, ensuring that the next generation has more resources, understanding, and compassion than they did. Their resilience is breathtaking.

And then there are my fellow HD warriors, the ones living with symptoms, those who are gene-positive but asymptomatic, and the ones still waiting for clarity. We may live with uncertainty, but we also live with immense courage. Every day we wake up and decide to keep going, to move through fear, to laugh, to create, to love. That’s something worth celebrating.

What amazes me most about the HD community is how it transcends geography, culture, and circumstance. Whether we meet at a convention, through a social media group, or in a doctor’s office waiting room, there’s an unspoken understanding among us. A knowing glance. A shared language of empathy.

I’ve met people from around the world who remind me that we are all connected by something more profound than DNA. From the families in Venezuela who first helped researchers trace the HD gene to the advocates in small towns across the U.S. organizing awareness walks, the thread of unity runs strong.

I’ve learned that community doesn’t always mean being in the same place; it means showing up for one another, however we can.

As I set my Thanksgiving table, I’ll light a candle for those we’ve lost to HD and for the loved ones who carry their memory forward. I’ll also light one for the newly diagnosed, the ones just starting this journey, so they know there is a whole world of support waiting for them.

In a society that often misunderstands rare diseases, our HD community stands as a powerful reminder of what’s possible when compassion meets courage. We don’t have to be perfect to be powerful. We just have to keep showing up, for ourselves and for each other.

This Thanksgiving, my heart overflows with gratitude. I’m thankful for every conversation, every moment of laughter shared in the middle of chaos, every hug at a conference, every email that begins with, “You’re not alone.” I’m thankful for the advocacy organizations, the researchers, the fundraisers, and the storytellers who remind us that our lives have purpose and that progress is happening every single day.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the people who refuse to give up, those living with HD, caring for someone with it, or working toward a cure. You are my teachers, my friends, my chosen family.

So, as I count my blessings this year, I count this community twice. Because even in the face of a disease that tries to take so much, what it can never take is the love, unity, and resilience that define who we are. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.

Note: Huntington’s Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Huntington’s Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Huntington’s disease.