One of the things on my blog is that I don't really think I ever told you about my own psychological problems.

I think that is important:

I was born anxious. The world a cruel place and never forgiving...and if you are not aware or not ontop of it... it will kill you... so you better be watching... or you will lose your livelyhood, your home, your food and die on some lonely street... that's how I feel!

There are two sides to my life.

One is the nurturing side:
And the other terrified side:

Both crept up at me at the same time. I am a poster on this site. I give advice to people who are in pain and need answerers... but, I do seldom ever say my own problems... becasue I was taught it was a weekness... because if they know about it... that could harm you and be on that lonely street.

My mother was OCD... and anxious. I could tell she was. But, she had no idea what that was or never wanted to tell me out of her fear of weakness. A war bride from England, she came over a year later from marriage in England to my Dad in a whole new land... and, on the Queen Mary she came to America, leaving her home and all she knew to be with a man she met on some base during WWII. I could just imagine how scared she was...

My father picked her up at Elis Island and brought her home, trekking her across New York all the way across the states to Chicago. This was to be her new home. Now, according to my Mother, she was completely REJECTED by my Grandmother saying, "He could have done much better than you!"

When you ask your mom why you hurt by her, and she has no choice but to tell you why she did what she did, she will tell you what happened to her... so the truth that I never knew as a childd came out. "You were not good enough."

Imagine being a woman. Falling in love with a man from a foreign country. Sailing across the ocian on a two month journey and taking a rail-ride from New York to Chicago... just to find you were not Welcome? I heard that from my Mom and my draw dropped.

So, she did what she could living in my Fathers house. She cleaned. She cleaned everything as best she could, never good enough for a woman who gave birth to my father. And, then it happened. They had a daughter, Cheryl! My older sister.

They saved pennies and moved to a suburb called Melrose Park, which is 10 miles or so from the city limits, finally away from my Grandmother. But, my Mom was a festidious house cleaner. She was worried about the nwighbors and what they might think of the place... and had a lasting impression on this time of my family's house. everything needed to be just so... yet, I was not even born yet!

That would change...