I could never explain myself so I was always convinced that someone was mad at me

“R

emember when?”

Those two words bring up a lot of distress for me. Mostly because I can’t. Memory is selective, and the memories I draw on most are of being the peacemaker. Had you seen me as a tween, you would have deduced that I was happy-go-lucky. The “Baruch Hashemer,” if you will.

My mantras included: “Great! Great!” It was always great. And: “AMAAAZING!” It was always amazing. And the all-time favorite: “No Worries.” Except it wasn’t great, nor amazing, and there were many, many worries.

As a kid, negative feelings were a no-no. “Ach, why are you upset? Snap out of it.” And, “Stop being mad, make shalom.”