Love Story by Nichole Nordeman

I WAS TELLING my therapist recently about my terminal case of people pleasing and how easily paralyzed I am by the faintest whiff of disapproval. It’s just so absurd. But so very real. Even the slightest smug, judgmental glance from Martha across the restaurant (an immaculate woman who is not digging her toddler’s mac and cheese out of her bra) can send me into a tailspin, resulting in one of two scenarios (A) I will limp behind her all the way to her Lexus, apologizing for being such a frayed mother with misbehaving children and a woefully inadequate bra, or[…]