When I was 5 or 6. I remember lying very still in bed, not wanting to breathe, lying very close to the wall, hoping to slip away in the crack between the wall and the bed worried that my dad would come in and I would be beat. I would pray to dissappear. The anxiety would keep me up for hours. I also worried about being "found out". The priest would come over for dinner and I would just make myself sick with worry that he would discover we werent really a good family like we pretended to be. I had the same feeling when the photographer came to take the family picture. He was going to know we were faking it.