I've been guilt-ridden all my life, but in my case religion wasn't to blame. When people notice how much neurotic guilt I have (e.g., I apologize for everything; I even apologize to the door when I bump into it), they assume that it's "Catholic Guilt" from my Catholic upbringing. Well, no, not really. My parents weren't particularly religious; my dad seldom went to church, and my mom eventually became a skeptic. In first and second grade I was taught by Mean Nuns, but no, I don't think that did it. Rather, it was the influence of my hyper-critical dad. He criticized, questioned, and challenged practically everything I did, including breathing. Well, OK, not breathing...but close! To this day I am dealing with the after-shocks from this relentless criticism.

This past May, we visited my dad, who is old and ailing. He started in on my kids--challenging, questioning, and criticizing everything they did. I got so mad. I was not going to let him do that to my kids, not even during our brief visit. It helped me see clearly how verbally abusive and damaging my upbringing had been. Not to sound self-pitying or anything--but man, I could not wait to get out of my dad's condo. I cannot believe I endured that stuff day after day, without escape, for the first 18 years of my life.

OK, sorry for pity-party! I know my experience is different, because religion was not involved, but I guess the same dynamics were at work: No matter what you do or how hard you try, it's never good enough. And everything you do is questioned and challenged: Why are you sitting like that, why are you looking like that, etc. etc. (My dad got on my younger son's case for walking around the kitchen, as if that entailed some sort of moral failing. I kid you not.)

Diane