I refer to the first 35 years of my life as “the Great Repression.” I suffered greatly because the Readers Digest condensed version of me showed up in all my relationships. I remember a moment when I was 7, when my best friend announced her favorite color was pink and I told her, “Mine too,” because I wanted her to like me. Truthfully, I didn’t know my favorite color, so this was easy—it didn’t feel like a fib. I was pleasing people early, yet the people-pleasing wasn’t what bothers me in this story. What’s more disturbing to me now is the idea that a 7-year-old girl didn’t know her…