Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder if I'm putting too much stock into being 'normal'. What is "NORMAL", anyway?
For example, people always say things like, "I'm truly happy now".... as compared to what? How does a person measure happiness? I know I have moments of happy, but to say that one is walking around 'happy now'? I don't get it.
Just like normal. Who's to say that I'm not perfectly normal and that everyone else is 'off'? Who is to say that the people that grew up without ever being struck or emotionally ripped apart are the ones who aren't normal?
Forgive me please, for I am rambling a bit. These are thoughts I have every now and then when the house is dark and quiet. The moments when I'm truly alone in my own head and sometimes, it's not a pleasant place to be.
I find myself being utterly resentful of the people who grew up without so much as a slap on the wrist when they made a mistake... although my logical side says that it's illogical to feel resentment toward a person because they grew up in a NORMAL home.
The thing I'm finding to be disheartening is that I don't know if the feelings I have about myself and the world around me are NORMAL or if I'm being narrow minded because my 'spin' on the world was clouded by things that I could not at one time, control.
Does that make sense?
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Monday, June 9, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
The Inaction of Others
Anyone who has been in the same shoes I was in as a kid, has to at some point in their lives, wonder why so many people knew what they were being subjected to - but chose to do nothing.
The fact that not only did family members know, they often times witnessed a lot of what happened to myself and my younger siblings.
Other people would comment on how well "behaved" we were. Little did they know, we were in genuine fear for our lives. I don't know for sure if my dad would've gotten to that point, but when a person is raging on a small child, who the hell knows what could happen. We see this a LOT today. A three year old dies at the hands of his step dad - a little baby died because he was shaken to death.
I sincerely believe that if someone would have tried to help us kids, my dad would have THEN gotten the help he so desperately needed. I really have to believe that my father was repeating the same discipline principles on us, that were used on him as a kid. I also believe his own demons from the military haunted him and probably still do. As far as I know, he's never received help for either of these things.
There was an instance where my best friend from high school witnessed my father beating the living hell out of me and it was then that I started to wonder if what happened in my house, didn't happen everywhere. I came to this conclusion after the total fear and shock on her face after the fact.
There was no food or beverage allowed in our rooms - and as a mother myself - I can totally understand why. Kids' rooms get messy enough without the added 'gross' of having dead food left in a room or dirty dishes for that matter.
Anyway.. my best friend came over one day after school and she had stopped and gotten herself a cheeseburger and fries from McDonald's. I let her in and we went to my room.
She got out her food and ate it all, then proceeded to go into the hall bathroom and throw her bag with the trash inside, away in the trashcan.
It was shortly after that, I heard thumping up the stairs and my heart stopped. I knew what was coming and my friend sat there, oblivious to what was about to transpire.
My door was kicked off its hinges and my dad is sceaming that he "smells french fries!" and "goddamnit, there had better not be ANY food in this goddamned room!" He was weilding a razor strap and was storming around my room, dumping over my stereo, pulled my mattress off my box springs and then got in my face. My friend stood up like a bolt when the door came flying in, and stood with her back pressed against the wall with a 'what the hell!' look on her face followed by a look of flat fear.
I told him through tears that the food wasn't mine, that it was *****'* and that she'd finished and had thrown the trash into the trashcan in the bathroom. He wheeled around to her and then started yelling at her, asking her what she had eaten. She was so terrified.. she was rattling off the contents of her lunch, her voice shaking, very close to tears.
I wasn't crying for any other reason than I was so humiliated.. seeing my friend over my dad's shoulder as he sprayed spittle onto my face... his nose pressed against mine. His eyes bloodshot and his veins popping out....
He then threw me onto my box springs and proceeded to whip me with that razor strap. I actually fought him on this occasion, not so much that I cared (sad as that is to say) that he was beating me, but that he was doing it in front of one of my friends. My best friend, in fact. I kept trying to flip over onto my back, so I could get up and run, but he was too strong and it didn't take long for me to realize that I was only making it worse.. so I just laid there and let him beat me.
After it was over, I was bawling like a loon, my friend was crying and he just left the room. He went back downstairs to finish watching television.
....
My friend wanted me to pack my things and leave.. that this "isn't right!" But how could I leave? My brother and sister were there and what would happen to them? She wound up going home and she told her parents. While they were appalled... they did nothing.
It seems we've come to a point in our society where any child discipline is reported and to that effect, we have children running households instead of parents. I don't believe that children shouldn't be disciplined.. but beat? No.
It's just too bad that true abuse isn't acted upon and the regular upbringing of children by responsible parents, is.
I really let my son have it at the grocery store one time because he started whining about wanting some candy and wouldn't stop. I got in his face and said in a forced whisper, "If you don't knock it off, you will be sorry" and just gave him that "look". Some lady gave me the evil eye of disgust because I reprimanded my then 7 year old and wasn't going to give in to him. To bad that lady wasn't around when we were getting our bones broken.. she'da had a freakin' HEYDAY.
What I did that day was wrong, I don't deny that. I knew the rules and while my friend didn't live there, I did and so did my parents. Their house, their rules. I would have even taken a regular spanking or grounding. But not that. That went down wrong and unfortunately, there were many more times like this where the punishment went above and beyond anything that any child should have to endure.
Hey.. I was a kid and kids fuck up. As a parent, I make mistakes and yes, my kids can be butts as well.... but a little perspective is needed sometimes and if that takes a person stepping in to say, "Hey.. what the hell do you think you're doing?!", then so be it.
Trouble is, that line seems to have gotten blurred.
The fact that not only did family members know, they often times witnessed a lot of what happened to myself and my younger siblings.
Other people would comment on how well "behaved" we were. Little did they know, we were in genuine fear for our lives. I don't know for sure if my dad would've gotten to that point, but when a person is raging on a small child, who the hell knows what could happen. We see this a LOT today. A three year old dies at the hands of his step dad - a little baby died because he was shaken to death.
I sincerely believe that if someone would have tried to help us kids, my dad would have THEN gotten the help he so desperately needed. I really have to believe that my father was repeating the same discipline principles on us, that were used on him as a kid. I also believe his own demons from the military haunted him and probably still do. As far as I know, he's never received help for either of these things.
There was an instance where my best friend from high school witnessed my father beating the living hell out of me and it was then that I started to wonder if what happened in my house, didn't happen everywhere. I came to this conclusion after the total fear and shock on her face after the fact.
There was no food or beverage allowed in our rooms - and as a mother myself - I can totally understand why. Kids' rooms get messy enough without the added 'gross' of having dead food left in a room or dirty dishes for that matter.
Anyway.. my best friend came over one day after school and she had stopped and gotten herself a cheeseburger and fries from McDonald's. I let her in and we went to my room.
She got out her food and ate it all, then proceeded to go into the hall bathroom and throw her bag with the trash inside, away in the trashcan.
It was shortly after that, I heard thumping up the stairs and my heart stopped. I knew what was coming and my friend sat there, oblivious to what was about to transpire.
My door was kicked off its hinges and my dad is sceaming that he "smells french fries!" and "goddamnit, there had better not be ANY food in this goddamned room!" He was weilding a razor strap and was storming around my room, dumping over my stereo, pulled my mattress off my box springs and then got in my face. My friend stood up like a bolt when the door came flying in, and stood with her back pressed against the wall with a 'what the hell!' look on her face followed by a look of flat fear.
I told him through tears that the food wasn't mine, that it was *****'* and that she'd finished and had thrown the trash into the trashcan in the bathroom. He wheeled around to her and then started yelling at her, asking her what she had eaten. She was so terrified.. she was rattling off the contents of her lunch, her voice shaking, very close to tears.
I wasn't crying for any other reason than I was so humiliated.. seeing my friend over my dad's shoulder as he sprayed spittle onto my face... his nose pressed against mine. His eyes bloodshot and his veins popping out....
He then threw me onto my box springs and proceeded to whip me with that razor strap. I actually fought him on this occasion, not so much that I cared (sad as that is to say) that he was beating me, but that he was doing it in front of one of my friends. My best friend, in fact. I kept trying to flip over onto my back, so I could get up and run, but he was too strong and it didn't take long for me to realize that I was only making it worse.. so I just laid there and let him beat me.
After it was over, I was bawling like a loon, my friend was crying and he just left the room. He went back downstairs to finish watching television.
....
My friend wanted me to pack my things and leave.. that this "isn't right!" But how could I leave? My brother and sister were there and what would happen to them? She wound up going home and she told her parents. While they were appalled... they did nothing.
It seems we've come to a point in our society where any child discipline is reported and to that effect, we have children running households instead of parents. I don't believe that children shouldn't be disciplined.. but beat? No.
It's just too bad that true abuse isn't acted upon and the regular upbringing of children by responsible parents, is.
I really let my son have it at the grocery store one time because he started whining about wanting some candy and wouldn't stop. I got in his face and said in a forced whisper, "If you don't knock it off, you will be sorry" and just gave him that "look". Some lady gave me the evil eye of disgust because I reprimanded my then 7 year old and wasn't going to give in to him. To bad that lady wasn't around when we were getting our bones broken.. she'da had a freakin' HEYDAY.
What I did that day was wrong, I don't deny that. I knew the rules and while my friend didn't live there, I did and so did my parents. Their house, their rules. I would have even taken a regular spanking or grounding. But not that. That went down wrong and unfortunately, there were many more times like this where the punishment went above and beyond anything that any child should have to endure.
Hey.. I was a kid and kids fuck up. As a parent, I make mistakes and yes, my kids can be butts as well.... but a little perspective is needed sometimes and if that takes a person stepping in to say, "Hey.. what the hell do you think you're doing?!", then so be it.
Trouble is, that line seems to have gotten blurred.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Precusor to my future posts
This blog was made with the intention of revealing some things about myself, that not many people know. It's not something I go around on every street corner and shout out loud. It is at times, shameful. I don't believe I feel that way because I somehow think some of these things were my fault - after all, I was just a child - but because to tell people family secrets is a huge no-no.
Like many, my childhood wasn't all peaches and cream. The stories that I will tell you however, I have told to a couple of important people in my life and they looked at me with bewilderment. I honestly thought some of the things myself and my siblings went through as kids... other people did too. To me, it was all 'normal' and the way it was supposed to be.
I just want to say that I'm not recording my thoughts and memories about my childhood because I think my parents are horrible people. They are not. Do I think they made mistakes in our upbringing - especially my father? Yes, I do. I know deep down that they did what they thought was right AND that that was the way they thought it was supposed to be.
That last part is important - the way they thought it was *supposed* to be.
I know several people have heard about 'breaking the cycle' and 'breaking the circle of violence'. This is *key*! If people don't recognize that there is an ongoing circle of violence, they will continue to perpetuate that same violence and generation after generation will think this is a normal way of living.
I love my parents. They had provided for myself and my siblings... but I do wish that when I confronted my mom years ago (going on probably 20 years ago now) about some of the things that had happened she would have just said something like, "I know.. and I'm really sorry. We were only doing what we thought was best." or even something like, "Yes... but we were young and had no patience..." Something other than the sarcastic 'answer' I was given.
It was denial and anger. Again. She didn't deny the couple of instances that I brought up, but she denied that any abuse ever occured. This was like a hard, stinging slap to the face. All I wanted... all I needed, was a, "I'm so sorry..." and I didn't even want/need an explanation!
Regardless, I am the person I am today because of the things in my life that have shaped me. In some ways, I'm a stronger person for what I've been through. In yet others, I'm insecure about almost everything I do.
Laying blame doesn't do any good... and that's not what I'm here for. I am trying to make sense of it all. I'm trying to heal myself on some level. A level of forgiveness. With a milestone quickly approaching, I feel the need to forgive (really forgive) is a must.....
Like many, my childhood wasn't all peaches and cream. The stories that I will tell you however, I have told to a couple of important people in my life and they looked at me with bewilderment. I honestly thought some of the things myself and my siblings went through as kids... other people did too. To me, it was all 'normal' and the way it was supposed to be.
I just want to say that I'm not recording my thoughts and memories about my childhood because I think my parents are horrible people. They are not. Do I think they made mistakes in our upbringing - especially my father? Yes, I do. I know deep down that they did what they thought was right AND that that was the way they thought it was supposed to be.
That last part is important - the way they thought it was *supposed* to be.
I know several people have heard about 'breaking the cycle' and 'breaking the circle of violence'. This is *key*! If people don't recognize that there is an ongoing circle of violence, they will continue to perpetuate that same violence and generation after generation will think this is a normal way of living.
I love my parents. They had provided for myself and my siblings... but I do wish that when I confronted my mom years ago (going on probably 20 years ago now) about some of the things that had happened she would have just said something like, "I know.. and I'm really sorry. We were only doing what we thought was best." or even something like, "Yes... but we were young and had no patience..." Something other than the sarcastic 'answer' I was given.
It was denial and anger. Again. She didn't deny the couple of instances that I brought up, but she denied that any abuse ever occured. This was like a hard, stinging slap to the face. All I wanted... all I needed, was a, "I'm so sorry..." and I didn't even want/need an explanation!
Regardless, I am the person I am today because of the things in my life that have shaped me. In some ways, I'm a stronger person for what I've been through. In yet others, I'm insecure about almost everything I do.
Laying blame doesn't do any good... and that's not what I'm here for. I am trying to make sense of it all. I'm trying to heal myself on some level. A level of forgiveness. With a milestone quickly approaching, I feel the need to forgive (really forgive) is a must.....
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