Joan Crawford, The Dentist, the Tub, and Spelling tests

When I was growing up, my mother worked for a dentist and my grandfather was a dentist.  Apparently I needed alot of work done because it seemed like I grew up in a dentist chair.  My grandfather was not an orthodontist but apparently it was ok for him to do oral surgery in his small office because he did it on me alot  with my mom by his side. 

Every night my mom turned into a tooth brush drill sergeant.  She would hover over me and yell that I wasn't doing it correctly, then she would make me chew the red tablets that show you where you missed.  She got these free from work and so had a huge supply. 
I can still taste it. 
She would watch me brush, turning red with anger because of my incompetence at the task.  This same scenario repeated itself in other areas of my life, for example scrubbing the tub or studying for weekly spelling tests.  Remember the famous coat hanger scene in "Mommie Dearest?"  Ok, it wasn't that bad, she never hit me, but her temper...her face would turn beat red, I was so scared of her that I would miserably fail at whatever it whatever it was I was supposed to be doing.  Come to think of it, I can't spell and hate scrubbing the tub.

I know for a fact I was/am dyslexic.  I have no memory of anyone telling me "you are dyslexic."  But I remember these black and gold cardboard letters in my pencil box at school.  I think I was supposed to take them out and look at them so I would learn to write my letters in the right directions.  My mother  had to have known about it.  Was she embarrassed by this disability?  Was this why she was so irrationally desperate that I learn my spelling words?  I remember her sitting in the chair in the family room with me standing in front of her with a half sheet of paper in her hand quizzing me and just being so angry she looked like she could pass out. 
She had been a teacher before I was born and was even friends with teachers at my elementary school.  Was this why it was intolerable to have a child who could not spell?

I transferred all this anger to my oldest daughter when she was very young.  I remember the rage just coming out and I knew it was from my mom and step-dad.  I vaguely remember thinking, "they did this to me, so I can do this to her."  I never hit her, but the words...I remember writing her long letters of apology and being sick with remorse.  She was embarrassed by the letters and didn't want to read them.  She even said to me "what am I supposed to say?"  I was very scared when she was a pre-teen and early teenager that the emotional abuse I inflicted on her when she was very young would result in her hating me when she hit the normal rebellious age.  Those teen years were hard on both of us but I don't know really why.  All I know is that I have forgiven myself and she thinks I was a great parent...I guess I did other stuff to make up for it...
Wow, that was a river of stuff that just flowed out...I'll have to re-read it tomorrow.
Good job, me.
Good night