lancing the wound

Telling the story is like lancing the wound. The pus is ugly; no one wants to look at it. But it's got to come out. And until it does, ain't nobody goin' nowhere without haulin' that selfsame ol' baggage that's been weighin' y'all (and all y'all, or maybe even us'n), down for nigh unto centuries now. As said before, the sins of the father shall be visited on, etc., etc.