Stand up…

April 10, 2008 at 7:15 PM (Uncategorized)

George Carlin has said he believes that any individual parent shouldn’t automatically garner respect. That they should have to earn it.

I agree in some cases.

There’s discussion on other blogs I read about what kids learn when they’re hit.

I was hit, the last time when I was three.

It was an out of control spanking.

No more hitting after that.

But, from my father, beginning when I was ten, nearly constant yelling. Four nights out of seven.

Mulish, stuborn, had to have you agree with his insane made up stories. Especially when he’d had too much [gin,vodka,scotch]

And the “You’re (any negative adjective you can think of)

Hideous cruel and insulting, these would wash up against the brick walls of myself and my mothers sense of worth, that we had built out of our individual strengths…and crack at them and pressure them to split or even break.

And I wouldn’t roll over and agree. I’d fight with him, almost from the beginning.

Mom begged me to stop, because me standing up for myself just added fuel to the nasty things he’d say.

My perception was, I couldn’t help it. I had to fight him verbally. Tell him enough times that he was a jackass and perhaps he’d get it.

It came to a head when I was 17. he barrelled into the room convinced I had not done a chore I *had* done to the best of my ability.

“You little sh!t!” He raised a fist. “I ought to…”

I did some calculation in my head. I had the wrong headed idea that if he *did* hit me, it would only be to injure, and then well, I’d just call the cops on his ass. Jailtime was worse than bruises, and I felt he needed some.

I was a girl with CP. I had no ability to fight. Just bravado. I actually *said* [yeah, mindnumbingly stupid….]

“Come on! I’d like to see you try it!” Defiant. With absolutely nothing to back it up.

And then, the real person under the alchohol surfaced a bit. He started crying, and backed off.

I don’t understand where I got the sense of self or ability to stand up to it.

I just did.

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