“I wish I could shower without my thoughts,” I said to Sean absentmindedly as I towel dried my hair. I’d been doing battle with people who haven’t listened, replaying conversations that are already inked and smudged beyond repair. He looked at me and took a deep breath, I felt my shoulders go up in defensive anticipation and then back down. “Me too,” he said and smiled gently. “Hard to turn it all off sometimes.” It felt pretty good to not be judged, but my mind immediately set itself back to judging—flitting from why I chirp “yup” during conference calls to the clothes hanging in the closet, to the roller coaster of 40something skin (Is it a break out? Is it flaking dry skin? Is…