A friend recently said to me, “Gosh, I didn’t know you struggled with feeling unworthy. You always seem so up.” Perhaps I came by such trait by accident. It didn’t help that a dark cloud of not-being-good-enough hung over my Mom most of her life, or that the theme song of my early years in the convent was, “Oh, Lord, I am not worthy. . .” Or that we nuns were urged toward perfection every day of our lives. It’s a wonder I emerged with any capacity at all to kick, scream, yell, or fight my way out of the dark paper bag of depression that I sometimes still inhabit.