February 2026

As a little girl, I had a family of dolls. One doll was an outlier, due to my older brother’s pranks. He had cut her long blonde hair (assuring me it would grow back). He’d also used dark-colored permanent markers to highlight her eyes, cheeks, and lips. She looked absurd—almost freakish. That’s when I became familiar with the word yearning: I yearned for her to be accepted by the other dolls for who she was, not how she looked.

Dear readers,

I think it was a Unitarian minister who introduced me to the idea that anger is generally a response to a wound. That truth is viscerally apparent to me every time I straighten up and bonk my head on a corner kitchen cabinet. Ouch! My fury at the cabinet is something to behold.

It’s often easier to express rage than it is to express its underlying vulnerability–like hurt or yearning.