It was the ugliest damn car on the block (LOL) but it was all mine. :) It was a '78 Mustang Hatchback and it was creepily the color of a pinto bean (taco bell.. pinto bean...? scary stuff). I made the monthly payments on it - the purchase price was a whopping $1,995.00 and my payments were $135.00/month. I paid my own insurance even though it was physically my mom that made these two payments, it was my money making them both.
Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked.
It was a Sunday morning and I was sleeping in - as most teenagers my age... I had worked all night and then gone out right afterward, and I might add, I STILL made it in by curfew well because, I did value my life.
I was awakened by my door slamming open so hard the knob left a hole in the drywall behind it, and my dad grabbed ahold of my ankle and yanked me clean out of bed. Not pulled me awake... yanked me out of bed till my head hit the sideboard of the frame and then the floor. I was dizzy from the sudden blow to my skull, although you'd think by that time, I would've been used to be knocked around the head region.
He then proceeded to yell profanities at me and was literally kicking my ass as he yelled, "Get your goddamned ass UP NOW!" and I guess I wasn't moving quickly enough, because he was repeatedly kicking me as I scrambled to get upright. I had no clue as to why he was pissed at me or why he was kicking me.
I got out of my room and into the hallway when I was finally able to get into an almost upright position, when he grabbed the back of my neck, just below my skull and threw me down the flight of stairs.. where I landed right by the front door.
I don't remember at that point how I got outside into the driveway.. only that I was out there in my pajamas, with his hand again clenching the back of my neck and ramming my face into the front bumper of my car. It was on the driver's side, right on the corner. The bumper was plastic (maybe not plastic but it definitely wasn't metal) and it was the same color as the car. The paint there was scratched off as if something rubbed against it and rubbed the paint off.
He had shoved my nose right up to the bumper, yelling, "What the hell did you do to this goddamned car" while still kicking my ass. Literally.
I honest to God.. had NO freakin' idea how the paint had gotten rubbed off there... only that now, that it apparently was a HUGE deal.
That was the thing about day to day living that made this sort of thing so extremely difficult. You constantly felt like you were walking on eggshells. Never knowing when the other shoe would drop, or what would make the shoe drop in the first place.
You were on "high alert" all the time and as anyone knows, that can put your emotional state in a fragile place.
Regardless, I don't remember much of what happened after that.. which is weird to me. I don't even remember going back into the house or the rest of that day. I just remember the way I woke up and then having my blood shut off to my brain (or what felt that way to me, anyway) by his grip on the back of my neck.
That, and what the front bumper of a '78 Mustang Hatchback smelt like.
6 comments:
Yikes. I get pretty damn angry when I read stuff like this, mostly because I wish someone could have somehow intervened or something. I mean how does one reply to this?? :-/
please Michelle, visit this site, you have been humiliated, hurt only because your father liked doing this.
http://www.alice-miller.com/index_en.php
I'm sad because your dirty little secret, tells how much you have suffered in your life with your parents. Big HuGs
Living in this house hold must have been hell and the fact that you can write about it to help others and also find a little release for yourself is a blessing. My hats off to you for the strength it takes to wake up each day and face the world. Keep writing I will come back often to share feelings with you. God bless
Eggshells, the other foot down, and What did I do?...my experiences are not much different and you wonder how much it's affected you and your life. Half the time I was getting screamed at I did not even know what he was talking about..... I have an alcoholic brother and I just said at Easter to my mom(probabally shouldn't have)that I already know how I am going to die, my brother is going to shoot me(gun nut who always tried to make me fear him(I am 5 yrs older & college educated, him no). He threatens me and I laugh he is frustrated usually drunk and going to make me pay.
Oh how I can relate to this. Being yanked out of bed and beaten. Even for things that I never done. Oh how relieved I was the day I turned 18 - freedom, but the pain still haunts and torments me to this day. I am learning one day at a time to cope with it. The sad part is most parents will say they love their children. If beatings are a way of showing love, I must be the most loved child on the planet. Trust me, you will learn to deal with this and you are on your way to healing.
I, like Jillian mentioned, get very angry when I read about this. What the f*ck did he even care since it was YOUR car paid for with YOUR money?
I guess for your sake it is good that you can maintain a relationship with your parents, but I feel that people like that don't deserve a damn soul in their life. They should live and die alone.
OK, that was really rude to say about your father, and I apologize. But what he did to you, your siblings, and your family is beyond unacceptable and I can't stand abusive pricks never having to answer for their behavior.
I am very sorry for what you went through and are going through. No one should have to endure that.
Post a Comment