When I was a child, my brother's favorite TV show was Lost in Space. He waited anxiously for it to come on, it was truly the bright spot in his every week. His least favorite thing in the world was having to eat canned peas. One night my father had this idea of a joke, a challenge that he issued. He told my brother he could only watch Lost in Space that week if he ate a whole can of raw peas. The thought of it alone made him start to dry heave. Dad did it just to see how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted. It was a guy thing, to see what he was made of.

“That’s mean, don’t make him do that!” my mother barked. “Ahh, it will make him grow up strong, put hair on his chest!” said Dad in the same tone as he used placing red hot pepper seeds on our tongues when we smart mouthed, and the infamous “Pull my finger” routine. The man had a sadistic side.

At the time I thought it was funny to see the lengths my brother would go to. Why did I derive pleasure from watching him suffer? I still have guilt over this. In the end, he ate the peas and I know his motivation was not simply to tune into Dr. Smith's latest hijinks, but to show my dad that he was tough and could take whatever he dished out.

My brothers and I used to fight like cats and dogs, we could be cruel and ruthless to one another. It was more than just teasing, it was trying to be hurtful. But why? Why do we need to hurt and torture the ones we love? Was I trying to prove to them that I was just as tough as boys, the same way my brother was trying to prove his willpower to my Dad?

I'm sure this was the root cause of why as an adult I have repeated behaviors and patterns knowing they were bad for me, knowing they would only end up causing me pain, but doing them anyway and taking some kind of sick pleasure from it.

A reader recently asked why my blog profile states that I am reserved when clearly I don’t portray someone who holds much back. That’s true in my writing and in some other arenas where I can be brave and outspoken. But most of the time now, I only take carefully calculated risks. I've learned to detect and deprogram dangerous situations that, as Robot would say are: Illogical. Does. Not. Compute. See, I used to be a little masochist, I’m not one anymore. Also I’m a girl and I don’t need to grow hair on my chest.