While we are awaiting a bed bug update, let's switch avenues for just a little bit.
This blog post is going to be less of a generalization and more of a personal viewpoint on past experiences, although I will post some links at the bottom for further reading.
Just like so many other people, my parents are divorced. The divorce was not friendly, and there really isn't any love lost between the two sides of my family. Both of my parents claim that the other was abusive, and to some degree, I can see a bit of truth behind the pointing fingers and nasty side commentaries that my older brother and I received for so many years. Neither was innocent, but both claim to be, as is very common with many couples who break up.
Anyway, the true focus of this post is to share a sudden realization that just struck me at approximately 10:00 a.m. while I was in the shower this morning. I was reminiscing back to when I was a little kid shooting hoops with my older brother, who at the time had a violent temper. I took a shot at the net, the ball bounced off the rim, and wham, it made contact with the back of my brother's head. Before I even knew what was happening my brother was flying at me and landed a solid punch right into my mouth. Yes, blood spewed and my top tooth went right through my bottom lip. It was awkwardly painful.
Bawling and wailing, I stumbled up the porch steps, leaving a bright red trail of blood in my wake. My mother came out to see what the heck was going on, took one look at me, and then turned and cuffed my brother upside the head. Apparently one degree of abuse deserves another, but I have to admit that it was rather satisfactory at the time to see him get slapped.
A few days later my lip was still in the process of healing and had scabbed over (not very attractively, either). My grandmother from my father's side came to the door for a visit, took one look at me, and asked what had happened. I told the story, and she took a deep, gasping breath.
"What did you do?" she breathed.
What did I do?
What she really meant was, "What did you do to deserve getting punched in the face? You're at fault for something."
At the time I was just angry with her for blaming me for a complete accident, but only this morning I came to realize the origin of her ways of thinking.
My father has often told my brother and me of the childhood that my father went through, which was filled with abuse from his father, whereas his sister's life was full of abuse from his mother, our grandmother. Could it be that my grandmother was an abused spouse who just took from her own personal experiences and projected them onto other people? Did she get caught in
a blind belief that if she were beaten physically or mentally, that she believed it all to be her own fault?
My grandfather was a tough bird, an Englishman through and through. He was strict, rarely smiled, and never gave any open affection to my grandmother. His criticisms were harsh, and his forgiveness impossible to gain. Perhaps, in all the years that I resented my grandmother for her seemingly snooty attitude, were years and years of silent suffering that she took to be her own
fault.
For more reading on abuse issues, please refer to:
Human Trafficking: http://socyberty.com/activism/the-horror-of-human-trafficking/
Information on Woman Abuse: http://beyondjane.com/lifestyle/issues/woman-abuse/
Living After Abuse: http://socyberty.com/advice/rebuilding-life-after-abuse/
Abuse for Sexuality: http://socyberty.com/gay-lesbians/the-concept-of-gay-persecution/
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