The Only Two Times I Knew it wasn’t My Fault
By
Although I have some pretty nasty abuse stories, one of the most painful memories from childhood was when I was across the street playing at a friend’s house and I called home to ask if I could stay a little bit later. My father answered the phone and gave me permission but I guess he neglected to tell my mother. When I came home my mother slapped me across the face so hard that my glasses flew across the room and hit the wall. I remember the look of rage on her face, how dare I be late! I was so shocked that she had just hauled off and whacked me with all her might when I wasn’t actually late. She did not give me one second to explain, I don’t remember words, just her fury. I remember my father actually looking shocked which surprised me since he never seemed to show any emotion or get involved in what my mother was doing with me, however the more that I think about it, I am not sure he knew about her temper when it came to us kids.
I remember him telling her that I had called him and he had given me permission to stay the extra half hour. The worst part of it was that then the whole event was between my parents and it wasn’t about me anymore. They argued about it. No one apologized to me; my mother wouldn’t even look at me. No comfort for me. I was just left standing there, crying and shocked and later feeling guilty that I dared to feel sorry for myself.
My mother gave me the strap plenty of times in her raging fits of anger, but none of those beatings hurt like that slap that I didn’t deserve. Even though I got lots of corporal punishment, I never questioned whether or not it was justified; I always knew it could come at any time but this time was different because I knew for sure that I didn’t deserve it.
Note on that story: If I had actually been late, I would not have thought a thing about being hit like that; so if I was late, would she have been justified?
There is only one other time that I recall feeling this kind of hurt and emotional pain. It was when I was in grade one and I asked to go to the bathroom and the teacher said no. I asked again, and she said no. The third time she said no, I couldn’t hold it anymore and ended up peeing my pants. One of the kids yelled out to the teacher. “Miss Frost, Darlene is peeing her pants”. Everyone stared at me, I thought I would die. Then I was excused to go to the washroom where eventually the teacher and a bunch of kids stood outside the bathroom stall door trying to coax me to come back out, and the teacher saying “you should have told me it was urgent”. The class big mouth was echoing her every word, “You should have told her it was urgent”, I remember thinking that “urgent” was such a big word for a 6 year old to be using. That statement however, indicated that it was MY fault. I had to take a taxi home. (my mother made me go back to school that afternoon)
I just realized the other day what these two events have in common and although they always seemed like minor events in my life, that they stuck with me and seemed more terrible than some of the others. These two stories, which I consider to be among the most painful of my childhood, were the only two times that I thought I didn’t deserve to be treated that way. These were two times that no one had convinced me that I had done something wrong. Even though the teacher made insinuated that it was my fault, I knew that I had asked three times. Most of the other things that happened to me in my life I was not so sure of where I was innocent.
I didn’t deserve ANY of the abuse that happened to me of course, but these were the only two times that I was sure of it. Realizing this helped me to realize how often I was convinced that everything was my own fault.
Chopping holes in the fog,
Darlene Ouimet
8 Comments
May 6th, 2010 at 3:22 pm
I remember my mother slapping me across the face several times when I was young. She didn’t do it as I got older. Slaps across the face are not discipline. They are done solely for shaming the person who is slapped. Darlene, neither one of us deserved the abuse that we got from our parents.
May 6th, 2010 at 3:27 pm
Patricia,
My mom slapped me accross the face like that until I was around 15. Even though that time she did it because I had disobeyed her, I didn’t blink, flinch or cry, I just squared my shoulders and told her that if she ever hit me again I would hit her back. I was done with her shaming me that way. Did the abuse stop?? NO but she never hit me again. =)
Thanks for sharing, love Darlene
May 6th, 2010 at 4:01 pm
Darlene I can so sympathize and empathize with you.
One evening when I was a pre-teen I had asked my dad if I could have one of his cold cokes. My dad had several in the fridge that he was going to take to work with him. We didn’t get many carbonated drinks when I was growing up so to get a coke it was a treat. At first when my dad responded to me I thought he was joking so I kept nagging him for a coke. It was hard to tell when my dad was serious or not because he never showed much of his emotions on his face or in his behavior thus I thought he was just joking with me that evening. Well it was apparent later on that he was not joking but my dad took it a step further than necessary. We ended up arguing and I went to my room he followed me to my room and proceeded to chew me out .. at that point I felt very angry with him and I stood there with my anger written across my face. That is when he looked at me and said “you act like you have a demon in you” which was followed by two back hands to the face. He hit me so hard that I did see stars. At that point something in me broke and I thought to myself “If I am going to be accused of having a demon in me then hell hath no fury” to be honest that was a huge turning point in my life actually it was the very turning point in my life that led me down a very dark and lonely road.
When it came to me neither of my parents knew how to handle me they didn’t understand me and to be honest I often times didn’t understand me either. I shouldn’t have nagged my dad but in all fairness I really did think he was joking. Nevertheless for it to have escalated to the point of him accusing me of being demonic and then back handing me twice was really a huge extreme and it was wrong on his part!
There were other times in my life though that instead of my dad bullying me he actually came to my rescue. When I was around 10 years old we lived with my dad’s mother. One evening my cousin and I got into a spat. My cousin went back and told our grandmother that I had cussed her out. Back then I didn’t know what a cuss word was (I was very much naive) anyways as my parents went out to get the clothes off of the line that evening my grandmother confronted me and threatened me .. she told me that she was going to tell my dad how very bad I had been and that I should never cuss. She never gave me a moment to explain that I had not cussed that it was my cousin who had cussed me. All I knew to do at that point was go to my parents room where I literally fell upon their bed and cried in sheer terror. I just knew my dad would believe his mom over me and I would get beat half to death. So when my parents came in from getting our clothes off of the line they saw me laying in a heep on their bed sobbing. They asked me what was wrong .. it took a while for me to tell them but when I finally was able to tell them my dad took care of it. He did not come down on me instead he confronted his mother. My dad stood up for me!
I shared the first story simply to point out the actions of my dad in the second story. I honestly believe to a certain extent my dad tried to not repeat what was done to him (by taking up for me when his mother my grandmother falsely accused me, which this event took place before the first story of the coke) but my dad’s reaction to me for nagging him about the cokes shows that even though my dad may have tried not to repeat the abuse he may have received as a child yet he did to a certain extent. Plus what I do understand now was during the event with the coke this was after my dad’s major accident which left him with PTSD. But please don’t think that I am justifying what he did to me I am just saying from an adult stand point I do understand somewhat better than I did as a child.
Honestly I am glad that I have lived and he has lived long enough for the both of us to be able to come to terms with many things and because of that we do have a much better relationship now. But it has been a very very long road and very hard one for the both of us. And there still is somethings that he and i don’t see eye to eye on but I have resolved myself to agree to disagree and go on..
thank you for sharing your story I know it isn’t easy baring our souls to the world as you have. Thank you !
May 6th, 2010 at 6:12 pm
Darlene, Patricia, Nikki – hugs you all so special! The one time I remember most clearly was when I had a friend over, I was around 13 I guess. She and I were horsing around and for some reason my Dad came between us to shout and tell us to stop…being kids we didn’t stop immediately, and she made one last shot at me and I made a face at her. Then I was flying down the hallway and landed with a broken wrist. I remember laying in bed crying because I wasn’t making a face at him (NEVER) and didn’t get a chance to explain, and that they were talking like I was faking with my wrist. It was fractured and I had a cast – which almost ‘wrecked’ our holidays because it almost stayed on too long. Still not quite sure how all of that was my fault to them but I know for sure it wasn’t…for sure it wasn’t!
May 6th, 2010 at 7:06 pm
I too had plenty of “difficult” times growing up and it’s funny how I most remember the one when I got a spanking for something I didn’t do. And my parents finally realized that I hadn’t done the thing. But no appology came. My parents believed firmly that they should never appologize to their children because it undermined their authority. Honestly, I think was an awfully convenient belief of theirs. Convenient in that they never had to admit to making mistakes. Convenient in that they never had to face their own shame.
May 7th, 2010 at 11:02 am
Stacy,
That is such a big part of what I am talking about. HOW do children ever learn that they matter? Do they suddenly deserve to be treated with respect when they turn 21? How does that work? Thank you for your comment. This is exactly the point that I want to make!
Hugs, Darlene
Shanyn,
This is also what I am talking about, there are a few things about this story. One was that you were flying down the hallway because of a misunderstanding. The other one was that they thought you were faking with your wrist, which was broken, because you were sent flying down the hallway, and THEN all of it was your own fault. How do kids grow up to have good self esteem when that kind of thing is what happens in childhood? You can see why so many kids can’t wait to grow up and be in charge of their own kids! It is a crazy cycle. You can also see why some kids grow up to be parents that go to the extreme other side and never discipline ( or correct) their kids at all.
Thanks for your comments! Darlene
May 7th, 2010 at 11:04 am
Nikki,
I could write a whole post responding to your post, and I might, but for now, thank you for such a wonderful contribution to this blog. I really appreciate the depth that you go into and your own willingness to try to work this out within yourself, here.
Hugs, Darlene
May 8th, 2010 at 7:56 am
Wow, I just learned in t. this year that when my mother slapped me across the face that that was physically abuse. I had no clue! Thank you for sharing this post Darlene.