Growing up as an only child during this time, my entire family was extremely protective and strict about the rules, as well as our Catholic faith. My family ultimately didn't really let me have much choice, yes, I was given pretty much everything, however, my family didn't allow me to do much. By the time I was three, I had a schedule with my grandmother, where I not only learned my prayers, but said the rosary with her after lunch and PBS cartoons. When it comes to food, my father continually scolded me for more foods than I would eat, and that's why to this day I don't eat them and blame my father. When I was around two I went to Seaworld for my birthday and loved it, at three I would ask 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 possible mess. My mother heard me ask her if she could go to San Diego, and she misheard and thought I had called her a dirty Mexican word. I won't write one, but I made her angry enough to wash my mouth out in the bathtub with a bar of soap. After she stopped I was in tears and saying I didn't say a bad word, needless to say I was terrified of swearing until I walked in in high school. My mother told me that apparently I was even afraid to talk to him, for fear of getting in trouble. During this time, I always felt like I was in trouble. My cousin and I would go play in the backyard and make mud pies, “bird” baths, or roly poly oly circus. The birdbaths consisted of plants from my grandmother's garden, soil, rocks, water, oranges and insects. There was a thought behind each item and a punch from our grandmother for making a mess. During this time, it seemed like all I did was get into trouble and seemingly act out. However, there is always a deep fear of getting into trouble, so