It always starts with this question from my husband: “Should we have a yard sale?” My eye begins to twitch. My shoulders start to tighten. My mouth becomes dry. I feel a pain in my lower back – some sort of muscle memory, I’m sure – as thoughts of yard sales past start filling my head. I glare at him with my non-twitching eye. A glare that would certainly set him on fire if such a phenomenon were truly possible. Inevitably, the dreaded question is prompted by my husband sifti

You can’t nullify your personal history. We’re not better for it. An employer is not better for it. The world is not better for it. And if a