Somewhere around the month of March or April…
Bear: “Can I go out?”
Mom: “It’s a school night.. don’t you have homework to do?”
Bear: “I did it in school.”
Mom: “The reason they call it ‘HOME’-work is because you are supposed to do it at HOME!!”
Bear: “But we’re allowed to do it in school, mom… It’s all done already.”
Mom: “You can go out, but I want to see you working on your homework, at home, when you get home from school from now on.”
Bear: “Okay, mom..”
Some indeterminate period of time later (measurable in days or weeks):
Mom: “I thought I told you that I wanted you to do your homework at home!”
Bear: “… … I, uh… er, um… ahh… I … that is… uh… um… “
Mom: “You stay in this house, and starting tomorrow, you start bringing your homework home. Period!”
Bear: “…”
Next day:
Mom: “Let me see your homework assignments.”
Bear: (Taken UTTERLY by surprise, as though this topic has never once been mentioned in all of my life until now…) “Huh?”
Mom: “Don’t stand there, staring at me like a doddering fucking idiot!! I want to see what your homework assignment is, and when you are done with it I want to see the finished homework… and if you tell me you didn’t bring your homework home, I am going to beat you to within an inch of your life, you stubborn, conniving little bastard!!”
Bear: “Huh?”
(The beating was actually to within 1/16th of an inch of my life, to be perfectly and completely accurate.)
After some days of healing, upon arriving home from school:
Bear: “Hi mom! Can I go out?”
Mom: “Let me see your homework assignment…”
Bear: “Huh?”
Vicious beating.. much dismay, verbal abuse, and histrionics... which ultimately culminates in the literal shedding of blood… mine in particular… in minimal to moderate quantities…
After some weeks of healing, upon arriving home from school:
Bear: “Hi mom! Can I go out?”
Mom: “Let me see your homework assignment…”
Bear: “Huh?”
You guessed it… I got by brains kicked out…
This act repeated itself, with isolated gestures on my part of bringing home the odd homework assignment for appearance (and, admittedly, concern for my immediate and continued survival… but, only on a temporary basis…) sake… until…
Bear: “Hi mom! Can I go out?”
Mom: “Let me see your homework assignment…”
Bear: “Huh?”
Mom: “Are you afflicted with some serious mental illness that prevents you from following the simplest of instructions?? Have you heard a single thing that I have said to you over the past three or four months??”
Bear: “Huh?”
Mom: (Now well across the line into the decidedly sad and scary realm of total insanity as a direct result of this issue….) “TELL ME THAT YOU DIDN’T BRING YOUR GODDAMNED HOMEWORK HOME WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING SON-OF-A-BITCH!!”
Bear: “Well… I agree with you on that last bit… the ‘Son-of-a-B’ part..” (I added this last, I suppose, to sort of help things along a wee bit… looking back on it over the years, I have come to think that it wasn't, perhaps, one of the wisest decisions I have ever made...)
Mom: (Face draining of color… lips becoming a violent, thin, gash in her face, baring surprisingly dangerous looking teeth… eyes narrowing to shark-like lifeless slits… in total, uncomprehending disbelief at this apparently suicidal lunatic who stood before her… unarmed).. “You..?! Y..!!?? … Wh..?? Sp… Plf… Wha?... you?.. Son of a…??.. … … … … … !! (ATTENTION ALL CREW… THE SELF DESTRUCT MECHANISM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED! YOU HAVE 15 SECONDS TO ABANDON SHIP. DETONATION WILL OCCUR IN 13.3 SECONDS. WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!) “WHAT DID YOU JUST FUCKING SAY TO ME!!!! WHY YOU BRAZEN, FOUL-MOUTHED LITTLE SCUMBAG!! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU ARE GOING TO RUE THE DAY YOU EVER DREW YOUR FIRST BREATH!!! I WILL CUT YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT!! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO??!!”
Bear: “What does ‘Rue’ mean?”
At this point, predictably, I suppose, a lot of stuff happened in a relatively short period of time… suffice it to say that I ended up curled up in a fetal position.. on the floor… wondering if I would actually live beyond this particular ass-kicking…. I decided that this must be the ‘rue-ing’ part, and pretty much further decided that it sucked…
The next day, I dutifully arrived home with my homework assignment in my hand.
Bear: “Hi mom. Do you want to see my homework assignment?”
Mom: “Not particularly…”
Bear: “But.. You said you wanted to see it…”
Mom: “I don’t really care if you do any fucking homework or if you don’t, to be perfectly honest. Don’t do your homework. Grow up to be an illiterate moron. It doesn’t hurt me in the least.”
Bear: “But I have my homework assignment right here, mom!”
Mom: “I’m thrilled. Good for you. I told you that I’m not interested.”
Bear: “Can I go out?” (Yeah… I know… I have no explanation… I was like 14 years old… what can I say?)
Mom: “Suit yourself…” (This was, I now realize… a very loaded ‘suit yourself’ which absolutely drooled with venom…. and, being the basically oblivious, self-centered eejit that I was, I completely and totally failed to detect the danger zone that I was so blithely tramping into with my eyes closed…. sigh…)
Bear: “Okay! See ya!”
Later that night…
Mom: “Is your homework done?”
Bear: “Huh?”
Yup! Bedtime… and no homework done… good job, huh?!!
Mom: (Smiling a smile that is generally only seen on hyenas, wolves, and zombies…) “You didn’t do your homework…..”
Bear: (Realizations dawns…. much, much too late, naturally!) “I… Mom! I’m sorry! I’ll do it right now!”
Mom: “Its bedtime.”
Bear: “I’ll get up early and do it before school!”
Mom: “You know what? (sickly sweet voice, facial expression, and smile… and now I’m REALLY scared!) … (WhatEVER this is… we all know it is going to positively suck great big nasty moose dick…. of course… AND it did!)
Bear: “…” (Blank, terrified stare…)
Mom: “Don’t worry about the homework… you are just so smart that I am just positive that you will come home with a 95 on (here the expression began to crack and change into something……… … other than human…) EVERYSINGLEFUCKINGSUBJECTONYOURGODDAMNEDREPORTCARD
ORSOHELPMEGODYOUWILLBECONFINEDTOYOURROOMFORAFULL
FUCKINGYEARANDYOUCANSITINTHEREANDROT!!!
Bear: (full back shiver) [did she just say…???] “But, mom… passing is 65” (Good ole helpful Bear!!)
Mom: “I don’t give a flying FUCK what passing is!! I SAID 95 OR YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR ONE ENTIRE FUCKING CALENDAR YEAR, ASSHOLE!! THREE HUNDRED SIXTY FUCKING FIVE DAYS!! IN YOUR ROOM!!!”
Bear: “But…”
Mom: “NINTY FIVE!!!! GOT IT!!”
Bear: “Mom… School ends in like three weeks!!”
Mom: “Then it sounds like you have a fucking problem, doesn’t it!!”
Bear: “…” [Fuuuuuck…..!]
The Last Day of School….Report Card Day…
Bear: “Hi mom!”
Mom: “Did you get your report card?”
Bear: “Yeah, I did good on almost everything, mom…”
Mom: “Let me see it… English – 98. Social Studies – 99. Art – 99. Gym – 97. Shop – 97. Science – 100 – that’s good! History – 100. Very good! Foreign Language – 98… … WHAT the FUCK is THIS?!?!?!”
Talk about your ‘Ice-water enema’….
Bear: “What, mom? You mean, um, ….. math?”
Mom: (vicious backhand across my face that bloodied my nose, split my lip, and set my right ear to ringing that lasted about three days….) “GODDAMNED RIGHT I MEAN FUCKING MATH!! What the FUCK is THIS!!! (bony skeletal finger stabbing repeatedly at the ‘86’ that I got in math….)
Bear: (beginning to cry… lip quivering…) “But mom.. I did better than most of the other kids… that class was really hard (I am fully whining here…) … and the teacher said that I did a good job!!!”
Mom: (C-clamping my throat and slamming me, hard, into the wall… face close.. eyes crazy… hot breath, rank with coffee and cigarettes… warm spittle spattering my face.. voice low… and very, very, dangerous now…. this may not be survivable I am beginning to think… God, please don't let me pee myself...I try to go completely neutral… I don’t want to seem the slightest bit aggressive… or completely fearful… either one can trigger this to go someplace I don’t want it to go… and I know it…. ) “You listen to me, you worthless lazy piece of shit… I don’t give a flying fuck what the other little bastards in your class got on their report cards… nor do I care what the molly-coddling fucking faggot of a teacher has to say… I told you that you had better not walk in that fucking door with a mark less than a 95 percent… and you deliberately disobeyed me. Are you trying to test me? Do you think I’m a stupid, simpering fucking weakling that would just back down, dry up, and blow away??? …. OR… did you think that Nana (this said in a sneering, mock-whine) would come and interfere and give you one of her titties to suck on!!?? Well you better hope that that miserable bitch stays the fuck away from this house, because if she steps foot in this house, I'll stab her to death right in front of you, and then I'll smash her fucking skull in while she lies there..... and it will be YOUR FAULT!!”
[I am fully shitting my pants… I am going to die… she isn’t fucking around… I wonder if she could be crazy like those moms in the movies who start hacking people up!! Oh fuck…]
Bear: (Crying…) “Mom… I… I’m sorry… I… no!! I didn’t think that…. I’ll do better next year… I promise….
Mom: “Stop your fucking sniveling… you whining fucking queer… you disgust me!”
Bright light… darkness…
I wake up being dragged across the floor by my hair… into my room… an ass-kicking of cosmic magnitude commences… and I get through that by curling up around the soft spots and trying to only present relatively tough spots as targets… she beats me until she runs out of steam.. then… frustrated… and furious… she begins destroying things in my room… she leaves… letting me try to catch my breath… somewhere in there I caught one in the stones that has just about turned my lungs inside out…
She returns with a box of black garbage bags. throws them at me… and tells me to put everything in them… except my clothes, my school books, a dictionary, a one-volume encyclopedia, and my bedclothes. I do this. Out it all goes. And I never see any of that stuff again.
She catches me looking out the window, and that is remedied by taping a black plastic bag to the window, pulling the shade and tacking it to the sill, and then drawing the curtains.
For the next 365 days, this is my world, and these are my rules;
No talking to anyone. At all. Except when school starts, and only when answering questions or speaking when necessary to do my school work. The first time I spoke in school after the summer, my voice came out like a croak… my throat hurt for days…
Eat meals within three minutes after everyone has left the table, and upon being told that I could eat. After three minutes, whatever was left went in the bin.
At school, I had the same desk in every class. First row. Left side. All alone. At recess, I could sit on a bench.
At church, after the service, when everyone went downstairs for coffee and doughnuts, I went and stood next to the car and waited. If it rained, I got wet. If it was winter, I shivered. In summer, I got sunburned.
I had 15 minutes to shower, brush my teeth, and use the toilet at the end of each day. 5 minutes in the morning before school, when there was school. Weekends, I had time to pee and brush my teeth. During the day, I had two bathroom breaks. If she told me not to flush afterwards, and there wasn’t anything in that bowl… I earned myself a vicious beating.
In the summer, it was unbearably hot and stuffy in that room… not overly bad in the winter…
I was allowed to ‘read’ the dictionary or the encyclopedia at my own discretion. Likewise with textbooks. (This led to my having a wonderful vocabulary, and developed a tendency for me to read the entire textbook, cover to cover, within days of being issued same… which tendency continues to this day… as does the periodic reading of dictionaries… go figure….).
My birthday came and went. I got a small stack of cards, which were then removed from my room after I read them. They were thoughtfully pre-opened, presumably in an effort to render them safe for me….. (SNORT!)
On Christmas that year, I received two small cans of baby apple juice, one apple, one orange, one banana, one candy cane, one winter coat, a woolen hat, a pair of gloves, a flannel shirt, and two pairs of socks. I got to enjoy them in my room.
After the completion of the three hundredth and sixty-fifth day… the complete day.. which ended at midnight…. which means, for all intents and purposes, the following morning… I was told that I could come out of my room and resume normal business-as-usual, providing that I got a good report card – defined this time as 85 or better on every subject. I got all 98s, 99s, and 100s (no surprise there…).
I learned that I can go anywhere and do anything I want while living entirely within my own head… I built things, traveled, played, saw movies, ate all sorts of delicious foods, and even went swimming… all inside my own head!
I learned how to follow a stream of thought while perusing a dictionary, and how to concoct an entire world by using the words that I came across…
I learned that I am never, ever, truly alone… no matter that I am the only person in the room…
I learned that I can endure anything that anyone throws at me… or die trying.
I learned to pick my battles.
I learned that when you get jammed up… nobody wants to know you.. and nobody can help. Its all on you.
I learned that I am okay with that.
I learned that no matter what somebody does to my body… my mind will remain free… no matter what.
I learned that deep down… I have a core of iron and grit.
I learned that people who write one-volume encyclopedias are either insane, unbelievably stupid and shallow-minded, or are hounded unmercifully by shitbird editors who relentlessly badger them to cut more and more information from each entry - One volume Encyclopedias have there place in the world, I suppose.. but solitary confinement is decidedly NOT one of them.
I came to realize that I was born alone, that I will die alone, and that nobody can really do anything to remedy this... I learned that these facts were only a couple of the many, many things about which I can do nothing but learn acceptance.
I learned that people can be very cruel at times, and I learned what it feels like to be on the shit end of that stick. I don't understand why anybody would want to do that, really... though I imagine that it just sort of comes out that way....
I learned that I am not capable of choosing anything but the worst choice when presented with an ultimatum... even if it goes badly for me....
I learned to value my own company, to value silence, solitude, and contemplation…. and I developed a habit of talking way too much when I do talk, or being so quiet and withdrawn when I do not that folks tend to think that something is wrong with me….
Maybe one day before I die I will learn how to finally achieve a proper balance between the two….
This story is true. It happened to me. I was fourteen.
8 comments:
And this is why I live my days with absolutely no longing whatsoever to meet my mother in law.
How anyone could treat my Bear like that - it's criminal.
I have learned that in some cases, I am not a very forgiving person.
:::speechless:::
I left an in depth comment, and haloscan screwed up. argh.
Anyway, what I was trying to say was that you are a remarkable person, to not just have survived that, but to have gone above and beyond to become the person you are.
As another person who grew up as an abused child, I can tell you just how amazing I think that is.
Is this why you became a monk?
Nukie,
Well... on the surface, I would say 'not at all'. The calling to take the cowl originates from a place deeper within me than this sort of incident affects, I think...
However, on the other hand, after reflecting upon your question, and in the interests of being totally and completely honest.. with you, and with myself,... I must also admit that the year of solitude that I spent has most definitely planted a seed within me that has grown and developed over the ensuing years...
You see, I found a sense of peace during that time, during a period when I was young, somewhat vulnerable, and subject to whatever results would come of my mother's moods or whims. In the case of her expressing anger or frustration, this could take the form of verbal or emotional abuse, physical violence, or anything in between.... If she happened to be seeing someone who shared in these tendencies, they would join in the fun, so to speak.. so you may be able to imagine that being left completely alone was often preferable to someone in my circumstances, than to be around other people... often, that would turn out to be contrary to my best interests...
I have noticed that when I am confronted with difficult, contentious, or otherwise untenable circumstances, I seek solitude rather than the company or counsel of others.... (with the exception of my wife, who is just about the only person whose company I actively seek or enjoy for more than relatively short periods.... not to say that I dislike people... I do not... in fact I love people... but I have a tendency to want to retreat at times from the company of others in order to be by myself. Solitude and contemplation is something that I place a great deal of value on...)
So, to make sense out of this.. I would say that while this incident was not instrumental in my choosing to live the monastic lifestyle, it did, perhaps, make me realize that I was well-suited to a eremetic or 'hermitic' lifestyle, to being alone with my thoughts, alone in the presence of the divine truth.. and well-suited to living an outwardly simple life that requires me to be self-reliant, to stand up on my own two feet, and to solve the problems that life throws in my path on my own, rather than 'wishing' for them to be solved, or praying for god to give me the answers.... instead, I pray that I can find the inner resources within myself to meet these challenges head on....
Having the shit kicked out of you with some degree of regularity isn't fun, and it isn't cool... but it does have a way of toughening you up in body, mind, and soul...
My decision to enter monastic life, was born of a longing and a questing to experience an 'oceanic' sense of oneness with god, or whatever one may conceive of the divine reality... on my own, through my own efforts... and in my own heart... rather than having this reality described or revealed to me by somebody who most likely has not experienced this themselves...
I suppose I have always been a mystic at heart... even as a very small child.
So... this is my answer to you, then...
Great question! Thanks for commenting... I had actually assumed that since my seminary work occupies so much of my time and effort, which prevents me from blogging as often as I might like, that nobody was visiting or reading my blog anymore... I'm glad you're still out there!!
Take Care!
Whoa......
That just isnt right. I hope and pray never to be that way or be treated that way.
However.........I see a small sliver of myself there when I get upset with my kids (6,8). I would not and have not beat them, hit then (they may have gotten a slap on the hands when they were younger), but I do find myself yelling far too much when I get upset.
We can all improve, I surely hope I can.
Scribe;
It isn't really something that is amazing, I think... It is just something that happened. When you are involved in a situation that is maybe not so good.. you are presented with a series of choices that you must decide upon... this is true of many such situations. In my case, I first chose to be angry, and to 'hold-on' to these feelings that I had... I was resentful, surly, and not very well socialized... and I found that I didn't often have many friends around me as a result... after some years I learned through observing other people that I was missing out on a great deal of positive human contact, and I decided to let go of all of this stuff that was sticking to me and obstructing my way... I let it go... and I moved on. Some years later, my mother and I sat down over the course of three long days of talking; extremely honest, heartfelt dialog... and we discussed all of the things that had taken place that I knew of, and a number of things that had taken place that I did not know of... by this time, I was in my forties.. and I had attained some degree of life experience, and had been a father (a single dad) for many years... I came to see many of the pressures that my mom was subject to, and many of the difficulties that she was facing at the time (granted, she ended up in this circumstance via her own choices...), and I was able to empathize with her fears, worries, disappointments, and frustrations. Lost love.. betrayal... overwhelming responsibility, shame, bitterness, anger... she had a difficult time.
I must also say that I faced many difficulties being a single parent, and I handled things in a completely different manner than my mother did... but, I didn't walk in her shoes, in that time period, when socially, things were so very different...
I still think that her actions were very wrong... I still remember the fear, the hurt, and the utter confusion that I felt as a result... and I still think that I would have acted differently even if I were in the identical set of circumstances..
But, I am not my mother. I am me. I can only honestly judge my own thoughts and actions. I have done good things, I have done great things, I have done shameful things, and I have done terrible things... I have made both good and bad choices... and I have paid the price for my mistakes.
I think that each one of us comes upon a time when we are put to the test... we don't have the privelege of choosing how this will come about, or when... we simply have the choice to rise and meet it, or to falter. Some of us surpass the circumstances... and some fail. Sometimes it is the same person who does both, as the tests will come back to us again and again...
What happened, happened. It was bad enough when it occurred. So I think the wisest thing to do is to let it pass, but not to forget it... because forgetting it is to allow it to come back in a different guise and to perhaps let it be us who harms others by so doing... instead, I let it pass, and I remember. I don't judge the memory, I simply allow it to pass through me... I may say...'ah... that sucked!' ... or, 'that year was tough...', or nothing at all... and then I let it dissipate....
Each and every one of us faces these types of difficulties, or other types... but one thing is certain; we all must face our own problems when they come.
I think the important part is to focus on how we will respond to them, rather than why it happened, why it happened to us, or this sort of thing...
Take Care...
Dan,
I'm not sure that hoping or praying that we will or will not be a particular way may be the correct way to approach such things....
.. each moment in our lives, every single one of them... is a moment of choices that we are faced with... we choose to do this, or that, or to not do this or that...
As a parent, you have the responsibility to raise and teach your children, to love them, and to ensure that they learn what they must learn so that they can properly make their way through the world..
.. they are children, and they learn by testing things, trying things out, and pushing the limits... this is what kids do. They constantly try new things, different methods for achieving thier goals, etc., etc. Watch a kid working on a puzzle sometime...
As adults, we have developed expectations of behavior from other adults... and when they breach these expectations, or cross our boundaries, perhaps we become angry or affronted... or resentful...
Adults are supposed to know better.
Kids are different. They are supposed to try and test and stretch and push... otherwise they will never develop a clear idea of their place in the world. Also, adults have developed and more or less settle into a way of being... whereas, kids are changing drastically in a relatively short period of time... so they have to try things again and again as they perceive their relative status changing...
Maybe if you were to focus on the behavior, rather than on the personalities involved, it would allow you some psychological distance from the incident so that you would have a little safety buffer of time in which to assess the situation and come up with a more appropriate response than yelling??
I used responsibilities and priveleges, and I never tipped my hand. I would never threaten a particular punishment or response, because it would lock me in to that response. If my son decided that it was worth the gamble to take the punishment, I have lost my authority.. and now I have a problem.
Instead, I would make it clear that there were certain standards of behavior that I insisted upon. If they were not met, I witheld priveleges. I would always do my best to remain utterly calm, because to show that I was losing my cool would give away an advantage... kids use whatever is given to them... they are smart, and they can be manipulative... they use what we give them!
I would generally use a format; I would tell them what I was going to tell them, tell them, tell them what I told them, and then have them repeat it back to me.... i.e.,
I am going to explain to you what I expect from you (at school, on the trip, what have you....)
You are X years old, and you are old enough to understand that you have to follow certain rules and adhere to them... I expect you to (a. b. c. whatever rules I had that pertained to the situation...)
Now, I have just explained to you what I expect from you. Do you understand?
I want you to repeat back to me what I just told you so that I can be sure that you understand precisely what I said so that I know that I am treating you fairly and not expecting anything from you that you werent aware of ....
Once this was done, I simply held them to those standards. Period. It was very business like, no emotional content. No yelling, no screaming, no hitting. This is what I want, but this is what you did. No tv, no outside for x amount of time. I am adding this tedious chore for the duration. If you do it properly, I will drop x numbe of days from the punishment. If you don't, I will add x number of days. How long this lasts is ENTIRELY up to you.
I put the choice and the responsibility directly where it belongs. In their court.
Admittedly, you have to watch constantly, and you have to have a great deal of patience... but, thats what being a parent is.. hitting never once caused me to do anything that I didn't want to do, and it never once dissuaded me from doing what I wanted to do. I followed the rules because I wanted to do right, and because I wanted to please my parents, not because I wanted to avoid punishment or beatings.
It is vitally important that you recognize and praise the behavior that you want.
Sometimes, I would simply ignore behavior that I didn't appreciate, and I would also distance myself slightly. Kids want attention. They will repeat anything that gets them that attention. This is what they want from you, as a parent, more than anything else you can ever give them... yourself.
I am not telling you how to act, or what to do... I am simply sharing some of the things that I have learned in my lifetime, but what works well for me, may not apply to your circumstances, and vice-versa...
What I will tell you is that yelling doesn't work, and hitting doesn't work.. it is a way of expressing rage and frustration... and that is all that it is.
The person who is yelling is the person who is attempting to regain control of the situation. Kids know this instinctively. The corollary is, that if you are trying to regain control.. then someone else must already have it! And if it isn't you... then it must be them... and if they have it, why on earth would they ever give it up??!!
You ARE in control... no need for yelling. Compassion, love, patience, encouragement, insistence, and guidance are all you need to accomplish your task as a parent, and to raise healthy, happy, loving, respectful children.
Don't be afraid to give of yourself, my friend... it will do more good than you may realize!!
In Peace and Brotherhood...
I read your blog regularly, It's one of the few that seems to have a deeper meaning. I really didn't expect such a truthful and lenghty explanation. I'm surprised and glad that you provided one.
Thank you,
Nukie
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