When I think about my life, I try to look at the good times. There were lots of those times and I am grateful for those. However, there were a lot of traumatic times too. Times that I’ve blocked out of my mind, times that I don’t want to remember, times when I was so frightened that I hid in my room and just cried my eyes out.

I remember my father and oldest brother having fist fights. I think that neither my brother or father understood each other. My brother Arnold was “emotionally disturbed”. We call it autism today, a disorder that impairs the ability to communicate and interact with others. They have a lot of fears. One of the biggest fears for Arnold was my father. He adored my mom so when my mom was being verbally abused by my dad, Arnold was start fist fighting with him. It was very scary for me as a little girl watching this. I screamed and asked them to stop. Those nights I used to cr myself to sleep. Nightmares followed.

You see, It was tough growing up as an only girl. I won’t go into the details, but I was expected to be the perfect child. My father asked me to be “perfect” to make my mother happy. And I did anything my father asked me to do. He loved me so much. I was his princess, but this princess came with expectations. It was my job to make him and my mom happy! Not easy for a little girl.

As a little girl growing up, I watched so much abuse and always thought it was my fault. Like the times my dad beat my older brother for things that he should have hugged him for. One time my brother fell down the steps to the basement and my dad reprimanded him for not being more careful. I have to say that I did “love”my dad. But I hated how he erupted so much. He yelled at things that did not warrant this abuse; against my mom and brothers. So I did anything he wanted to escape this terror. It was a very tumultuous childhood. I had bad nightmares and anxiety starting at a very young age. I felt responsible for everyone’s happiness. I think that carried over to my adult life. I was always feeling like I failed; that I wasn’t worthy of love. If I wasn’t perfect, I was a failure. I didn’t feel pretty enough, smart enough, or perfect enough. I never felt safe growing up so I did things that maybe other kids wouldn’t do. I yearned to be loved like my dad loved me. I always felt alone because no man could compete. In fact, my insecurity drove them away. I needed so much attention, so much affection, and so much acknowledgement that I destroyed most of my relationships with men.

And now fighting two illnesses, I feel alone. I married the greatest man and I screwed up. I expected him to be like my dad. So he filled that job and I complained to him that he was treating me like a child. Isn’t a dad supposed to to that? Yes, but not a husband. He took care of me. I didn’t like that either. Then I complained that he didn’t love me the way I was loved by my daddy! I know he tried to love me the way I wanted him to. The problem was and still is that I only know one kind of love and that’s not what’s good for two people spending their lives together r as husband and wife. I needed to be Barbara, not little Barbie. Most of my relationships with men, I screwed up. I feel so guilty and embarrassed And I’m finally realizing that nobody is perfect and no relationship is perfect. And it’s okay. I was taught at an early age to be perfect and make everyone happy. That’s a tall order. It kills self esteem, self worth, and self love.

I think all my anxiety and worry that I needed to be perfect contributed to my illnesses. I also feel like lost a lot of people that I’ve loved. This is a daily struggle for me. I want to please others so much that I forget about me. I’m afraid to start certain tasks or jobs because I’m afraid that I won’t be able to be perfect at whatever the task is. My anxiety about it is paralyzing. So I lose my confidence and I lose my relationships.

Feeling alone. I do have great friends and family but with MS and Parkinson’s I feel so broken. I feel like I let everyone down. They remember me when I was fun and healthy. But even then, I was feeling alone. I just couldn’t feel pretty enough, smart enough, or perfect enough.

Feeling alone . Parkinson’s is a lonely disease. So now I am alone in my body that doesn’t work like it should. Now I feel alone in my mind when I can’t remember or think of words that I drop. Now I feel alone when my feet are numb and my toes curl in. Now I feel alone when my body turns so rigid that I can’t move, can’t walk, and can’t explain to anyone what pain my body is going through.

Feeling alone. I yearn for love, for touch, for hugs, for kisses. I yearn for a man to love me even if I’m just learning to love myself. Feeling alone and fearing I will always be. Loneliness is a scary feeling. I might have these crazy dis-eases, but I’m still me. I’m a fighter. I have to be. By the way, I love all my friends and family. I love being with you. When we have plans, I cancel sometimes because this body of mine is not cooperating. Then the anxiety and fear take over and again I am alone.

I so appreciate your love and understanding. I know it’s hard for you to see me this way, but I will tell you one thing. Barbie Steinfelder will always have makeup on and look the best

I can. I am not giving in to these dis-eases . I will dance to the music even when it stops playing. I will work out my mind and body the most that I can. I will laugh , I will smile, I will cry, and I will love. I’m not feeling alone now. I love writing. It may not be perfect, but what is?