For much of my life, every time I let me out to play, work, or live, something went wrong. Someone would hurt me, or I would hurt someone. I’d lose a friend. I would disappoint someone. I’d see that look of judgment. Mostly though I ended up feeling like I didn’t belong, that I didn’t fit in, that something was wrong with me. I would then retreat behind my mask and secure it in place.

I was reminded of how prevalent my mask has been in my life recently while reading Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle. She describes her representative in much the same way I’ve often described putting on my mask for the world. Her…