I grew up in an abusive household. I was abused by both of my parents. There. I said it. The secret is out.
Being abused is not something that is a subject we all like to talk about. But I was abused. The only thing I never had a chance to tell my parents was something simple - You didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
I grew up with an alcoholic mother. I also grew up with an abusive father. The ironic part is? He never laid a hand on me. He never spanked me. He never hit me. He never threw me against the wall as other friends parents did. He never locked me in a closet. He never hit me with a belt. He never threw things at me. But at 50 years old, I have come to realize that I was abused by my mother and father nearly every day of my life as a kid. And it continued on as I grew into an adult.
My mother, thank the good Lord in heaven changed her ways. She became a better person. She stopped drinking. She stopped abusing me. She stopped emotionally, psychologically and verbally destroying me once I hit "adulthood." That, however, did not stop with my dad. He continued on until approximately ten years ago. And the abuse stopped.
No. He didn't die.
He simply stopped talking to me.
But the abuse continued.
He told people lies about me. He made up stories about me. He played the victim. He outright lied about incidents and events that never happened. He had everyone feeling sorry for him. All the while abusing me. Verbally. Emotionally. Psychologically. And doing his best to control me as he had throughout my whole life.
It took me until I was 50 years old to realize that I have been in an abusive relationship with my father for my entire life. The abuse stopped when I stopped having contact with anyone that he knows. The abuse stopped when I stopped trying to talk to him. The abuse stopped when I stopped hearing the lies he was telling about me. And all these years later, I realized that one thing was true about my father - He didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
Living in an abusive relationship is not easy. You are controlled. You are made to feel worthless. You are made to feel like you aren't even going to accomplish anything. You are told every decision you make is stupid. You are criticized, judged, insulted, called names, cut down, degraded and made to feel like no matter what you will do, it's not going to be good enough. And neither are you.
I have been abused my entire life. And I never had the chance to say the one thing I wish I would have said to him - You didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
Being abused by someone that is supposed to love you is not easy to deal with. Being abused by someone that raised you is not any easier. Being abused by someone that is supposed to treat you with all the love in the world is not something to be proud of. But this goes to my dad - You didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
As a kid, I used to tell my friends that I wish my dad would have spanked me. I wish he would have hit me. I wish he would have thrown me around like some of their parents did. When they asked me why I would simply tell them that at least the spanking pain would go away. The hurt would go away from being hit. The anger and suffering would pass quicker after the pain faded. But the verbal assaults, the name-calling, the degrading treatment, the judgment and the being told that I'm being stupid, making a dumb decision, or I'm being foolish never went away. Even all these years later. I realized one thing about my dad - He didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
Being abused is not something you brag about. It is not something you go tell your friends and neighbors. It is not something you can be happy about. It is not something you can look in the mirror and know that you've accomplished a good thing. It is just the opposite. It makes you feel worthless. It makes the pain that never goes away. It makes you question your self-worth. It makes you wonder if you've ever done anything right.
Dad - I wish I would have told you this years ago before you stopped talking to me. Before you stopped abusing me. Before you stopped degrading me, insulting me, criticizing me, judging me and destroying everything about me. You didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
I never considered it abuse. I was told by a therapist that I was raised by abusive parents. I actually laughed. I told him he was wrong. I told him that they weren't physical. I told him I was lucky to get a hug out of my father let alone being hit. And he said, "you don't have to be hit to be hurt." That's when it hit me. I realized that I'd been abused.
I'd been told I was stupid. I'd been called names. I'd been insulted. I'd been degraded. I'd been told I'd never amount to anything. I'd been told that I'd made stupid decisions. I'd been told endless times I was foolish. I'd been told I was never going to grow up. I'd been told that I'd never accomplished anything unless I listened to him. I was told that unless I followed his suggestions and I listened to others, I would struggle my entire life. And I look at it now and realize that one thing was true - He didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
Being an abused person is not something you are proud to admit. Being abused is not something you are happy to have lived through. And being abused is not something that simply goes away from one day to the next. I have been abused. I was abused. I know what it feels like. I wasn't hit. I wasn't shoved through a wall. I wasn't spanked. I wasn't hit with a belt or any other foreign object. But to my dad? One thing is true.
You didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
Abuse hurts not only the person that is abused. It hurts everyone. Their family years later. Their children who find out about it. Their relatives who didn't know about it. And people that always thought that person was "so nice" and "so friendly" and "so respectful" and "such a great kind hearted person."
Abuse is real. And even the "smart" and "intelligent" and "professional" and "employed" people hide it well. They don't want others to know that they abuse their children. Their children don't want others to know that their well-respected mother or father is an abuser.
But dad? I want to tell you one thing. I wish I would have told you this years ago. You abused me. I was an abused child. And I despise you for it. But the hardest part to realize all these years later is one simple thing - You didn't have to hit me to hurt me.
But now that you're no longer part of my life? Now that my kids know what type of person you are? And now that my wife knows how you really are? And you're not around my family? You can't hurt me anymore.
