Fear or Respect?

In order for an abuser to control their victims, they have to instill fear in them. And they also have to work to tear down any bit of self-esteem the victim might have left. They are demeaning. They constantly criticize you. My dad would laugh at you if you expressed your feelings. That made you less likely to express yourself for fear of being ridiculed. My sisters would do the same, but they were just kids and victims of my father as well. I remember so many times when my father was praised at how well his kids behaved. Yes, we behaved but for the wrong reasons. We were afraid to take one step out of line because we knew how quick his hand would fly out to strike us. My dad would demand respect but never once showed us how good it was to be respected. So we didn't respect him, and worse, we didn't respect ourselves. How can you respect yourself when you are made to feel like worthless garbage?

As I became a teenager, I had built up a good amount of anger inside of me. And I stopped caring about what my dad said or did. I hated him so much and all I wanted to do was express that hate. I lashed out at everyone around me because I didn't know where to put my anger. Sometimes, I didn't even know who to be angry at. One time, when I was fifteen, I was grumbling about something and my dad told me to watch my attitude. So I told him to watch his attitude. He took me downstairs and threw me across the room. Then, before I could pull my self up, he approached me and began kicking me with his steel-toed boots. Then he picked me up and threw me to the other side of the room and repeated the process. He did that several times before he decided it was enough. And I learned not to pop off at him anymore. But not because I respected him. I hated him even more. And yes, his daughters were perfect little angels on the outside. But scared and angry on the inside.

Once my dad was out of the picture, and I tasted freedom for the first time, the decisions I made would effect me for the rest of my life. I gave up on school because of a deep depression I had sunk into. And my mom felt so bad about what happened she didn't want to force me to do anything I didn't want to. I ended up working at Burger King and moved out with a friend at eighteen. I was exposed to alcohol and started to drink. I wasn't close to turning to alcoholism in anyway. I was lucky not to have the weakness for drug or alcohol addiction. So many kids that have been through abuse are not so lucky. But under-age drinking is certainly nothing to grin at. Especially since you are just to young to be responsible about it. And by the time I was nineteen I was pregnant with a drug-addict's baby. I thought I loved him but I had no idea what love was. And I didn't love myself, so how could I truly love anyone else? It wasn't too long into my pregnancy that I knew I would be raising my child by myself. It was my love for my child that pulled me out of the mess of the life I was in. I got my GED so I could work in a better job. But being a single mom is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Especially when you are raising a boy that desperately craves a father figure in his life.

The last thirteen, going on fourteen years, have been a long road for both me and my son. I have had to leave him in day cares so I could work. Some of them turned out to be pretty bad environments for him. And he began showing anger issues at a very young age. By the age of ten he was leaving bruises on me. He would fly into rages and become dangerous to himself and everyone around him. And there didn't seem to be any help in sight. I finally made the heartbreaking decision to place him in a children's home for a year. It was the hardest decision I made and even harder when the day came that I actually had to take him there and walk away from him. He was an hour away and I cried all the way home. But that time helped the both of us. He is home now and he has made so many improvements. And I have been able to learn different ways of handling him. But I get a lot of criticism from those that think I am too easy on him. But I hate yelling. And I hate physical punishment. Or the use of demeaning words. I know all too well how much it hurts. So I choose a quieter approach. He still has consequences for his bad behavior, but I refuse to disrespect him, even when he is being nasty to me or my husband. My husband and I recently took a Love and Logic parenting class and we are slowly applying the techniques to our parenting skills. And I can see the changes. It is a work in progress, but I just rejoice in any progress that is made for the better. And it is helping my son's confidence in himself. Because he is being held accountable for his decisions in a loving way. And he is given the trust and respect to make those decisions, and the opportunity to learn from the bad ones he makes. Building a relationship of love and respect is so much better than using fear to control him. And when people criticize because they expect my hand to rise in anger when my son misbehaves, I simply explain that I'm not looking for short term results. I'm looking for long term results that will enable my son to grow up a confident and strong young man that knows how to make the best decisions for his own life. Because I won't always be there to make them for him.