When I was a very young adult, I often boldly, and no doubt loudly, proclaimed that as soon as people figured out what was “wrong with them,” the onus was on them to fix it and move on because they had recognized it. If they still had hangups after that, then it was really their own fault, and they couldn’t blame anything on anyone else. What a moron I was. I took my mom to California to visit Quinn and his girlfriend this past weekend, and she and I had a lot of morning time to talk. The two-hour time difference coupled with the fact that she and I are…