Growing Up With Violence
I didn't grow up with a violent family,though my parents being old school Portuguese had no isuses giving me a smack or two when the need arose.
But when I was yonger, about 8, my sister (she was 10) and I were attacked by the school bully on our way home, if it wasn't for a passer-by stopping his car and chasing him off, she probably would have gotten really hurt.
ON that day I promised that I would never allow a family member to get hurt again and started training Karate on my own (kids...), a year later I was in a formal school learning Kung fu and to this day, more than 30 years later, Martial Arts is a huge part of my life.
In those years I was expossed to A LOT of violence, in the ring (boxing, Muay thai, MMA), on the mats ( Judo, Kyokushin) and on the "street" ( I was a bouncer for few years here in Toronto - Jilly's, Flamengo rd, Brassrail, Venus, G-spot, etc) and perhaps most violent of all, as a peackeeper in Bosnia.
The human inclination towards violence is astounding !
I have learned that violence BEGETS violence, that defense doesn't always stop there (retaliation), that hate is long lasting, the life is cheap for far too many people and that the only thing that breaks the circle of hate and violence is Love.
You're so right, PSac - love and forgiveness can overcome all.
I've long since forgiven my parents.
My kids and g'kids love and think the world of me.
I am blessed.
CoCo, you're writing is haunting and beautiful. I can see a very vivid picture of your entire childhood just from the above. I haven't read Through a Darkened Plane. I thought it was made up, too. I'm going to read it now.
I'm humbled by your strength.
Haunting and beautiful well characterize CoCo's writing style.
My mother was a violent/abusive parent.
I cannot write so interesting as you do coco but I am sure the feelings are the same.
We were middle -class Americans, clean, mannerly, well-behaved children.
But we had a secret, our mom beat the shit out of us.
I remember my sister getting stiches to her chin because my Mom beat her, but the story was
she fell off the top of a bunkbed.
My Mom sat on top of me with a gun to my face, I lied to her for stealing money to buy ice-cream at the A&W.
I remember getting a beating and it turned the white part of my eye blood red. A teacher at school noticed it and
questioned it, I told her I ran into a tree limb.
As I got older, whatever was closest to my Moms hand became the weapon, electrical cords, wrought iron wall ornaments,
I awakened one night with prickly beats all over me, I left the toilet brush in the sink to dry after cleaning the bathroom before bedtime and my Mom freaked out and let
me know that is not where a toilet brush is left.
I started running away from home when I was 15, a therapist said it was my sanest choice.
After years of marriage to my Mother, my stepdad committed suicide, he wanted a divorce, I can't be for sure that the choice of
suicide was his only way out of the marriage, but I often wonder.
I think vicitims of abuse survive by going to places deep within themselves and find safety
protecting that small vulnerable child as best they can.
I just want to say that reading Purp's account made me spill water all over my desk!
I've got to turn on a fan to dry things.
I'm so sorry for all - the perpetrators as well as the victims.
Thank you, dear ones, for your comments. I feel for your past suffering and realize that it bleeds into the present.
There's a little Portuguese passion in my story, PSac (Elizabeth's maiden name). Elizabeth Vincent was my mother. Names are close but altered somewhat, as well as who was the aggressor and who was the victim.
The Pane saga begins with an actual walk in my current neighborhood and how the evil, lurking house conjures up childhood reality and fantasy for Andy [me]. Most of what you read is inspired by my childhood. On another forum, a friend from my hometown and I chat about the settings and goings on at Hernandez Terrace and environs.
The story, to which Syl and Ziddy and others have made valuable contributions, is a group effort. My underlying theme, however, is how life is viewed, so very often, through a darkened pane - literally and figuratively.
Thanks again for sharing, dear fellow sufferers!
My underlying theme, however, is how life is viewed, so very often, through a darkened pane - literally and figuratively.
Down here, we have a saying that if a person isn't viewed favorably, he/she is being looked at with a "dark eye."