I say to myself, as I rub my fingerprints off in hot dish-washing water, "Don't go there. Don't think about the past, because the past will only sound sweet right now." 
I swipe the credit cards of other human beings who are hiding stuff.
They could even be hiding as much as I am, beneath the surface.
I think of men and women in other countries who will for the rest of their lives have to hide their feelings beneath the surface. In arranged marriages, in politically oppressed places, in the wilderness, in the poverty, in crappy apartments, in Cleveland, in Tokyo, in Portugal. There are other people going through what I am, and that makes me feel less alone.
There are people going through harder things than I am, and that makes me a privileged young woman.

But in the end, God is good. His grace is sufficient to get through this life, and this life will seem shorter later, when we are staring down our murderer (whether it be man, or illness, or tsunami, or vehicle moving at 72 mph) and we might wish we had eaten more donuts when we craved them or we might wish we had shared the Gospel with more people, or we might wish we had kissed our first true love. But in the end, God is still good, and that is how I sleep at night.