@XxOrganizedChaosxX Thank you so much for this T^T I'm way past childhood, but I still remember all the times my father used excessive violence to discipline me. And during times when I'm feeling down, I still find myself reminiscing them and crying, wishing I had been born to a kinder father. Maybe one not as smart and "strong" as this one, but loving and kind and less of a perfectionist.
Whenever I bring one of the events up with him, he'd get angry and demand I forget and forgive, and push the blame on me. My mother would side with him, even when she's being driven nuts by his temper tantrums herself. My brother, the golden child, is a very kindhearted person and I know he's caught in the middle, but it still hurts when he insisted I don't call it abuse.
My brother believes violence is needed to discipline me, and that most times my father only got out of control because I was out of control. Like it's not his job to be the adult and teach me to deal with arguments in a healthy way, instead of resorting to beating me black and blue for my whole life.
My father actually had a yardstick fashioned out of the bamboo forest behind his workplace so he could beat me and my brother. And we laughed when we saw him bringing it into the house. That's just how much violence is ingrained into my child brain. I've been whipped with belts and metal foot rulers before that.
My brother said the term abuse is limited to those stereotypical cases of drunken parents beating up their children daily, etc. When I shot back that so if my dad beats me when he isn't drunk, it's not abuse? He said yes. And it hurts so much to hear that.
