My childhood; I grew up in a family of sociopaths (didn't we all)
Punishment was usually swift and extreme for the usual mundane "bad" things kids do. One day, around the age of 10 and like many times before, a butchers knife was forced into my hand and was made to hold it to my parental figures throat who was screaming they had enough of me and my siblings usual childhood rivalry. And that I should just slice it, ending them.
You know, one of those long 10 inch butcher knives used for carving up the family turkey with on Thanksgiving Day. A relative small sword to a 10 year old boy. Unable to release the knife from my hand or move it away without cutting them, as the knife blade was already thrust firmly into their indented throat. I stood there still, unable to move, sheer terror gripping tight as my eyes filled with tears.
On this one particular occasion unlike the many times before, like a fog slowly creeping into view and accumulating into a dense cloud where you are no longer to distinguish anything right from wrong with clarity, a thought entered my mind. Small at first, then begin to grow with every second under the crushing weight of the situation and of the verbal assault being inflicted. I thought I'd do it. For a moment I was calm, readied and emotionless, willing to do the one thing no parent would imagine any child being capable of. Calculating every possible scenario of going to prison to botching the action, and in turn, being killed by my parental figure.
Needless to say, those type of extremely bizarre incidents never happened from that day forth. I don't know if the parental figure seen that look in my eye, that they pushed to far, or came to the conclusion their behavior was indeed psychotic. And not justifying their actions, they themselves grew up in a far worse home than I ever did, and just stopped also knowing what they're putting me through.
One probably would be asking about now, how is this a 'fond' childhood memory;
Well, I think one could look back knowing the 'bad' in our childhood influences us just as much as the 'good' and what we do with that, defines us who we are. And looking back, if that was what was destined to happen, making me a better person, I'd gladly endure it again a thousand times over. What happened in the past made me a better father when the time came to raise my own child. One, which mind you, I never had to really ever punish besides the only one time I can remember- swatting very lightly at back of the diaper, which the sound probably was more frightening than anything. I'm probably really over protective than anything- but I digress.
Abuse tends to make one more self aware of life, actions and consequences at a earlier stage- least it did for me. People do this somewhat naturally, but I think people don't stop and realize their everyday actions effects on others. Most people meander around in life like they're in Wal-mart, taking up the whole isle why others are trying to get around them. Oblivious unaware and uncaring or they hide behind moral ambiguity as an excuse.
This also highlights the fact that even love, a child's innocent untaught love, has it's boundaries and that should be a warning to not push someone, anyone, who loves you too far. To take care of that love, to nurture it and not take it for granted as it is truly special.
Home
Chat
Login
Register