All my life I’ve been trying to soften the blow of the truth. I’ve been putting tremendous emotional pressure on myself to spare others [and myself] from the pressure of dealing with the truth of my preferences and haphazard impulses. I was in a chronically contracted state almost all the time, in a desperate attempt to apply tourniquets on the leaky fabric of the truth of the moment. I’ve been both emotionally and metabolically constipated—conditioned to be agreeable and to seek compulsively to please and to act as a cushion and act as a buffer and pamper and therefore resent others. I’ve been routinely putting myself down and letting myself be bullied into being a resentful victim or occasionally the unwitting perpetrator of passive aggression. In short, I choose to be weak to reassure the weakness in one another. /Until the day I got truly tired of it.