Growing up as an only child during this time period, my entire family was extremely protective and strict about rules, as well as our Catholic faith. My family ultimately didn't allow me to have much choice, yes I was given pretty much everything, however, my family didn't allow me to do much. At age three I had a program with my grandmother, where I not only learned my prayers, but prayed the rosary with her after lunch and cartoons on PBS. As for food, my father constantly scolded me for many foods I would eat, and why to this day I don't eat them and I blame my father. At age two I had gone to Seaworld for my birthday and loved it, at three I would have asked for it. However, I didn't know it by name, but I heard my family refer to the city of San Diego, so I called it San Diego in the best confusing way possible. My mother heard me ask her if she could go to San Diego, but she misheard and thought I called it a Mexican swear word. One I won't write, but I made her angry enough to wash my mouth out in the tub with a bar of soap. After she stopped I was in tears and saying I hadn't said a bad word, needless to say I was terrified of swearing until I got into high school. My mom tells me that apparently I was even afraid to talk to her, for fear of getting in trouble. During that time it seemed like I was always getting into trouble. My cousin and I would go and play in the garden and make mud pies, or the “bird” bath, or the roly poly oly circus. The birdbaths consisted of plants from my grandmother's garden, soil, rocks, water, oranges and insects. Behind every object there was a thought and a reproach from our grandmother for having made a mess. During this time it seemed like all I did was get in trouble and I seemingly took action. However, there is always a deeply rooted fear of getting into trouble, then