The following blog posts were written on my original blog over five years ago. This article is part of my 37 Life Lessons From My Youth Series. Note: I’ve matured a lot since then and my “voice” has changed since. Enjoy.
Understand that abuse is something best left in the past. Its happened and it’s done. Nothing can change that.
But today I’ve decided to share part of my story. The part of my life that I take great pride in overcoming, but take great shame in admitting.
I only wish to share this because there are those out there who may need to read this. Perhaps to move out or to move forward.
As much as I hate to admit, I understand a great deal about abuse. I consider myself someone with a lot of insight about it.
I hope my story can impart some of those insights.
The sins of the father will be visited upon the son.
My brothers and I were hiding in our apartment bathroom for safety.
The SWAT team covered every window in the complex. My aunt was horrified when she saw one of them aim his rifle in our room.
They were looking for my father. But he was nowhere to be found.
Earlier that week my father pulled a gun out on a woman. He threatened to shoot her if she ever told my mother about the affair.
He always had a talent for getting away with things. And he always took things too far.
I remember my brother and I wanted to play outside longer than we were supposed to. As punishment he made us lick the sweat off each others’ backs.
There was a time he beat me down and humiliated me in front of my family. I felt so ashamed, my body wouldn’t move and all I wanted was to disappear.
When he was around, he always reminded us –
“You f*ckers are lucky to have me.”
“My life would be better without you.”
“You guys are my bitches.”
This was typical.
It was especially hard on my mother. She was hit, spat on, isolated, degraded, and imprisoned.
He’d throw her clothes out in the mud and pour milk on her side of the bed for amusement.
There’s a lot more that I won’t share with you reader. But that’s the gyst of my childhood.
I’m gonna jump ahead into my teen years –
You can’t have a relationship with abusive people.
One day I was kicked out of the house for “walking too slow”… (It makes as much sense as it looks…)
After two weeks, he and I met up at my aunt’s house. He wanted to pick me up and treat everything like it didn’t happen, like it was no big deal.
But I wasn’t about that. So I got him to sit down in the kitchen with me to talk.
I told him ~
“I don’t know why you act this way. But you’re always angry. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I want to have a normal relationship with you. I want us to start over. Can we start over?”
The entire time he was completely uncomfortable. Arms crossed and avoiding eye contact.
He did everything he could to dodge the question. He refused to give me a straight answer. Instead he continued to blame “my behavior”.
Eventually I gave up. He refused to take responsibility.
He wouldn’t agree to my offer. Shit, it’s like he couldn’t.
After that pitiful excuse of a reconciliation, he let me come back home.
But in the back of my head, I knew:
“We’re not safe here.”
Understand: You can’t build anything with someone who is indifferent to you. Sure enough you can’t build a relationship with someone denies responsibility and blames you for their actions. Especially if the person is easily offended.
Abusive people make you dependent and break you like a dog.
If I didn’t obey, he’d threaten to kick me out. In retrospect, I realize I was groomed to be a slave.
Keep in mind that I grew up being told that the world was a scary, f*cked-up place.
As a kid I was always scared. I feared school, jobs, the “real world”, people, and most of all – leaving.
Life was walking on eggshells.
Hearing his car pull up in the driveway made me physically sick.
I’d get punished for anything that he could interpret as disrespect.
I remember he asked me a question and when I answered I showed my palms (body language for honesty) and he screamed at me because it was “disrespectful”.
Kicking me out the house was the usual threat. He’d say it multiple times per week.
If I didn’t fix the roof –
“there’s the door”.
Or if I didn’t wash his car –
“there’s the f*cking door”.
If I didn’t make him tea –
“then take your shit and leave”.
My reality wasn’t based on real life. I no longer trusted my eyes. I no longer trusted myself.
No matter how much I worked, I was always called a lazy piece of shit. Despite always working.
“You guys are lucky to have me. None of you would make it.”
We were grateful.
He didn’t teach me how to be a man.He taught me to be a slave.
My mind was so broken that, and I mean this with the utmost sincerity –
If I watched him stomp a dog to death and I said to him,
“You killed that dog.”
He could look me in the eye and say,
“No I didn’t”…
… and I’d believe him.
Understand: You can’t grow a good soul in a bad environment. The person of poison will work to isolate you, destroy your sense of reality, and make you dependent on them. Those mental barriers are very real. And you will lose the ability to think for yourself.
You can only stand up for yourself and leave abuse.
When he wasn’t around he’d be at a house one city over.
I found out that he managed to put both that house and the one we were living in, under my name.
For months I’d pretend not to know. I gathered and prepared legal materials and I found the real estate documents.
During these months he continued to threaten me. To get me to do whatever he wanted, like the slave I was.
Until one day he made some ridiculous request, and I had enough.
“If you don’t like it, then there’s the door. Grab you’re shit and get the f*ck out of my house.”
I was so tired of being at his mercy. My soul had built so much resentment over the years. I couldn’t take being a slave any longer.
NO! NO! F*ck you, NO!
I pointed my finger into his face.
YOU leave! This is MY HOUSE! If you don’t like it, YOU get the F*CK OUT!!
His eyes got wide, because he realized, I knew.
Understand: Resentment is permission to act and reclaim your dignity. The feeling of resentment is the strongest feeling your gut will communicate to you. It’s there to let you know this person has defiled your freedom.
Leave abuse for your soul to be healthy and free.
It’s been 5 years since I last spoke with my father. But I’m sure we’ve both reconciled things in our own minds.
And to be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it in a long time now. When I look back it’s as if it happened to someone else.
Like it was a lifetime ago.
What I do remember is that as soon as I left home, I felt so much better. I immediately felt lighter.
Like the weight of the world was off my shoulders.
Even when I spent nights sleeping in my car, I was happier than I had ever been in years.
It would be a long time until I got out of my hole. But I never regretted that decision.
Because if there’s ever a single thing your soul cares about, more than anything in this entire world –
It’s Your Freedom.
Until next time.
Your brother,
- Rich
