It’s a dreaded day. I’ve been busted. My parents just found out that I skipped school for almost a year, missed a ton of classes and failed an entire semester. Home is going to be hell. Only question that comes to mind who is going to beat the crap out of me harder – my mom or dad. The dreaded doors open and I’m immediately faced with a barrage of scolding. Words go straight to my heart – “looser, idiot, bum, what an embarrassment!” They each scream at me louder than the other. My father raises his arm but I fall down to the floor and crouch into a fetus position hoping to avoid his blows but then it comes – three kicks in the row. They are not painful, physically.
Up to today I don’t remember what my mother said or did. She might have slapped me too but I don’t remember. What I do remember were those kicks. They violated a sacred bond between father and son, erased years of positive interactions between us, and possibly, I never forgave him for this.
You see, kids expect their parents to get angry when they mess up. They know it’s coming. What they never expect is to be humiliated. This is subhuman.
Life often makes me reflect on the ways my parents punished me for messing up. To be frank, it scares the bejesus out of me that I might discipline my [continue reading…]