As a child I was taught the age-old wisdom, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Once I entered public schools, being the overly-sensitive child which I was, I had to quickly learn the defensive protection of “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Truth be told, however, many of my less-sensitive schoolmates’ words did hurt–I just learned to act as if they didn’t. Thus, I began to wear a mask and keep my feelings inside, except of course when they seeped through the corners of my eyes. Of course, there were times when I allowed my feelings on the outside in the comfort zone of friends or family.
As an adolescent I began the marvelous process of thinking for myself–trying to make sense of the world in which I was living, idealizing and philosophizing–thinking I knew it all, wondering why there were so many problems in the world which had seemingly simple solutions!. And I, like many teens, when their offerings of idealism are discredited and ignored by much smarter, more experienced “adults,” cloaked myself in rebellion and silence and...
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