Being raised catholic has left me with an interesting view of the world. I don't even realize that it's unique until I'm talking to another ex-catholic, and we start talking about the shame we inherited from well-meaning adults who wanted, more than anything, for us to live moral lives according to their traditions. I used to cry myself to sleep at night for all the sin I'd created. Something as simple as a white lie would send me into a spiral of self-loathing. Now, with the benefit of therapy and an adult mind, I can recognize the cognitive pattern of rumination. Nobody wanted me to self-flagellate like that. My priest and the sisters who taught me wanted me to be happy, but they didn't know (couldn't have known) how fragile my mind is. The flames of hell seemed so high when I could barely see over the pew, and the threat of eternal suffering is a hell of a thing to show to a kid just to teach him right from wrong.