I saw a movie about dysfunctional relationships where a father in the midst of a divorce breaks down the door of his family’s home to see his daughter and give her a birthday present. She doesn’t want to see him, so she closes the door to her bedroom. He breaks down the door and starts spanking her and only stops when she pulls some scissors on him.
It disturbed me a lot. I could watch all kinds of scary and horrible scenes in movies, but that one scene was almost too much for me to take. It’s because several years ago my own father in a fit of rage followed me from room to room opening closed doors scaring the hell out of me. I know that he had been drinking and I also know that all he was doing was yelling at me, but that night I knew verbal abuse was clearly abuse. I know because I yelled at him that I wished he would just hit me and get it over with. I told him please just hit me, anything, just stop yelling at me. The worst part is that even with all my pleading, he still didn’t stop. My mom had to push him out of the room.
That was the night that I knew that my well being didn’t matter to my family at all. They might say it did, but that was just lip service. Something to say to maintain the illusion of a happy family. That was almost thirty years ago and sometimes it feels like it was yesterday.
I suffer from stress and a whole bunch of chronic conditions because living with my family was such a horrible environment, but there’s light. There was so much fear, anger, abuse, and hatred in the home where I grew up. Yet, I tried to find the love, patience, and forgiveness.
Yesterday, I wrote that in war there’s never a winner. There’s only one side that loses less. There’s never anyone who is totally wrong and anyone who is totally right. I’m not at war with my family. There was a lot wrong, but somewhere I found the light. I was always able to find God and He saved my life so many times.
If the people I lived with as my family, don’t care about me that’s okay I can turn the other cheek. I can try to see the goodness in them and love them as they are. I just don’t want to let them continue to abuse me. God has shown me that no matter what happens I will never be alone. I was so scared of that when I was younger. Now I know that everyone can abandon me, and I will be okay because God won’t abandon me.
When my father died, I wasn’t angry at him. I didn’t feel hate or fear. I was just sad because I knew that I was going to miss him. And I have missed him. Despite all the abuse, most of the time, I remember good memories and I remember loving him. I thank God for showing me the light so that I could do that.
Tonight, I pray that when people hurt each other and they spread anger, pain, and fear, that God will help at least some of them to see the light of God so that there is a chance for His peace in our world.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
