Perhaps I'm just too good (or is that bad?) with the analogies, but I strongly believe that in my family we also learned to associate love with abuse. Not sexual abuse, but violence. Physical abuse and the words that reinforced secrecy and self contempt. I used to think that abusers were 'bad guys' and found that inconsistent with the love also shown which mislabeled that violence in my own mind as a required tool of love.
You don't let loved ones make mistakes. Right?
I have figured out now that sometimes mistakes are like a seizure.
You have to let it run its course. More damage can be done holding a seizing
patient still than if you simply move away anything especially dangerous and wait.
I came back from Japan on an emotional high. I came back ready to take on the world - to advocate for the weak. I had experienced homes where there was no yelling - no violence. I was smart. I was strong. I was ready to take on the world.
My grandpa died believing my junior year abroad was the worst thing that had happened to me.
Then again, he also thought Tony was an excellent husband and father.
After my dad chased me around town with his car I went to the courthouse at 17 to get a restraining order against him only to be turned away because my mother would have to file for me. She was too scared of him. He threatened to take my younger three siblings because obviously if mom was unfit to care for me she was unfit to care for them as well.
The worst thing my mom ever did was give up on me for them.
I understand now, and forgave her long ago.
What did I do to deserve that level of contempt from my dad? He believed I was making bad decisions and he was going to force me to make good ones. What was that bad decision?
McKay was going to put me into detention because over the semester, I had accumulated a few tardys coming back from helping teach Japanese over at North High. I was told by the administrator to forge my mothers name on a slip to avoid detention. I refused.
I had signed her name numerous times before
when I was getting two IVs a week
and just walked over to KP and walked right back.
But I was trying to be morally upright and
fraud seemed to fall under the 'bad stuff' column.
I told them they could call her and she'd excuse me, or even to call North High. It was only on some of the rainy days that I was late riding my bike back, but my mother wasn't with me. I was on my bike. How would I possibly have her signature? Surely, they could call her or let me bring a note the next day.
No. Despite my impressive unblemished academic record, I would be receiving detention.
Then I found out I could drop out. I couldn't sign myself in, but I could sign myself out. Permanently. I figured I would just finish up high school at the college.
Why did my dad threaten to show up at my college classes to 'get' me and force me back?
His threats worked. I didn't show up at my college class. I was scared. I didn't stay at home, I couch-hopped. I think they call it couch-surfing now.
Embarrassing story. There is more to it for sure. I had initiated a relationship with him when I came back from Japan. I was arrogant enough to believe I was strong enough in who I was that I could handle who he was and it would only change me for the better.
The 'straw that broke the camel's back' was my Amiga. As a conversation point I had asked him for advice: Do I buy the $500 IBM or the $200 Amiga. It is important to note that I was using my own money. I had been working before I even went to Japan and had no trouble finding employment when I came back. While in Japan I had become accustomed to keeping my own supplies separate so at this point, whether or not he was paying child support (always a point of contention) wasn't even relevant to me. I was just waiting to go to NNC in the Fall. Dad advised me to buy the IBM. I bought the Amiga. There was no ill intent. I was not being rebellious. I simply chose the cheaper option since the school had a computer lab. I could save text files on the Amiga and it played cool music. For me it was a choice. For him it was disrespect.
The point is that he loved me enough to force me to do things his way.
Of course that didn't work. All he did was force me away from the people who loved me and into the arms of someone who said he would protect me. Add my first lost pregnancy and 'til death do we part' and how could my life have gone any other way?
Love came with chains.
The only way to break those chains was to give up my identity...my religion.
Thank God I eventually did.
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