Childhood punishments

My parents were very good at emotional and verbal abuse. There was more than one time that my mother told me that she didn't love me anymore, that she wouldn't speak to me anymore, and that she wished she had never had me. My father would tell me that I was no good at anything, and wouldn't amount to much. I believe there was at least one time that my mom told me that she'd much rather have the two babies she lost to miscarriages instead of me. (I was born first, then she had the miscarriages, then she had my brother, and finally, my sister) There were many other examples, but I remember those as being very stark. Who wouldn't? I mean, telling your own child that you wished they had never existed? That's not exactly going to bring about a change for the better, you know.

My mother would also make me kneel on the floor, put my hands over my ears, and pull at my earlobes. Talk about losing your dignity, especially given she was still punishing me like this when I was over 18! She once made me do that for an entire night on the kitchen floor (for forgetting to tell her to bring something important on a family outing; I think the item in question was her camera or something), and warned me that she'd be checking on me to make sure I didn't fall asleep. If I did, she warned that the punishment would be even more severe: she'd make me do that for the entire next day. Needless to say, I made damn sure I didn't fall asleep. Did I mention that the next day was a school day? I probably went around like a zombie.

My father was also never afraid to swear and curse at us; what made this sort of unusual was that he was a respected deacon and / or chair of our church at that time. Maybe what we did was enough to make a saint swear when provoked to the extreme limits of his patience, but what we did wasn't that bad (not showing a report card to them because it contained bad grades), and nor is my father a saint by any stretch of the imagination. (I'm not, either, but seriously.. that was enough to shock us!

The swear words didn't necessarily shock us, as we probably heard them every day at school, but the fact that our respected churchman father was doing what we were strictly warned against was probably what did it. We didn't expect our parents to have unlimited reserves of patience, of course, but did he have to do THAT? Definitely shocked our little brains!

There were times when my parents would go through my stuff, and randomly destroy things they felt were dear to me. They'd also read my diary, and use what I had said in there against me. Stuff that I thought was private would invariably come back to haunt me when I least expected it. I made damn sure to get diaries with locks on them when I got old enough!

As I've mentioned in other threads, my mother would use the wooden end of a feather duster to spank us if she thought we were being naughty. It was referred to as the "gy-mo-so" (approximate phonetic pronunciation), and she never used it for its intended purpose, either. Didn't matter if it was trivial or not, we got the non-business end of the feather duster. (and got it pretty hard, too.. made us cry, usually) There were also the times that she'd use a wooden spoon to accomplish the same purpose. (to spank us for something we'd done wrong) Yes, there were the spankings with their bare hands, but the feather duster was the usual around the house.

I don't think that my mother was very amused when I told the elementary school counsellor about it; in fact, she tried to downplay it when the counsellor mentioned it to her. And you better believe that I got it pretty bad when I got home! Seems my mom thought that such punishments should stay en famille, and that "outsiders" should never know about it. I got lots of dirty looks from my parents when that happened, believe me. They were also very good at getting my siblings to believe that I was the one who had done wrong, and not them.

Then there was the time that I used my parents' facecloths to wipe the toilet after I'd finished washing it.. they went absolutely ballistic! My father actually tried to strangle me over it, and only stopped when my mother told him to. Then they tried to kick me out of the house, when I was wearing only my pajamas! Needless to say, I was quite distraught, and went right to the high school counsellor the next day (I was in Gr. 12 at the time) and told him the whole story. My mom didn't think it was very funny when social services called her at home a few days after!

The day after that, I tried to get away from them (my mother had screamed at me, telling me that I wasn't worthy to call her Mom, and so should only call her Mrs. Ng). When family friends (Eunice and her parents) finally persuaded me to at least call and say I was all right, my family wanted me to come home. Yeah right! I spent the night at Leni's house and went to school the next day, only to discover that my mom had opened my locker (she had to know all our locker combos) and put a note inside that said that they were going to Dairy Queen afterwards. So I had to go there, but typical of my family, nothing was said about what had happened. Apparently, after that, they thought things would be all smooth once again, and we were all happy together... NOT! *rolls eyes*

Actually, that's just like my mom: to compensate for something unpleasant, she'll offer me what she thinks to be adequate remuneration. The compensation for Dad almost strangling me? A trip to Dairy Queen for ice cream the next night! That's GOT TO BE enough to make me forget about it, right? I mean, they're spending their money on ice cream for me, so it must be satisfactory! *rolls eyes* Hmm.. I don't think so!

For not telling them about my high school graduation ceremonies, I was almost made not to go. Thank goodness I had called my friend Leni earlier and made other plans.. my parents couldn't refuse when my friend's parents showed up at the door and announced that they were going to take me. Yes, I probably hurt my parents by doing so (which they mentioned years after the fact), but I had reached such a low emotional point in my life by then (almost all caused by my parents.. seriously) that I didn't feel like inviting them to the ceremony! (I might have invited my siblings or something, but they weren't of age to drive or anything)

There was an insane amount of yelling and screaming in our house; most of it (as I remember) directed at me. For example, there was the time I got two or three F's on one of my Gr. 8 report card. Understandably, they weren't very pleased, but did they have to yell at me all night for it? They told me that I wasn't a very good daughter and had brought shame on the family name. (which I might have understood if I had come home and announced that I was pregnant, or something.. but not over that!)

There were the times that they'd make me take a walk when they were angry with me. (like the time when my Gr. 8 marks weren't as good as expected; it was dark at night) Once, the police found me and wondered what I was doing. Staying away from my parents, I told them. The only thing my parents wished to know when I got home was where my socks were. No concern about where I had been, only an inquiry about my socks! As if the material possessions (a pair of socks) were more important than my emotional well-being.. I don't think so! That's also how they sometimes think nowadays.. *sigh*

My parents would also not allow me to go out with my friends if I had done something wrong. "But that's surely normal," I can hear you saying. Yes, but they refused to let me go to church because I'd see my friends there! Maybe they thought that if I saw my friends, I'd be tempted to do badly in school, or something. I have NO idea what that was all about.

I remember this time in college that my grades weren't the best. My parents decided that an appropriate punishment for me was grounding. And when I say "grounding," I mean grounding! They didn't let me go to Fellowship or choir, presumably because if I saw my friends, I'd actually have fun, and we all know that having fun is not permissible when your grades are not at your best. *rolls eyes* Going to church was a must, though (of course), and they monitored me throughout all those Sundays. Ten weeks of hell... at least my friends stuck up for me!

There was the time that my family came to pick me up after the school band had been somewhere. Since I didn't come to the car when they called (it was embarrassing to my teenage self at the time to have your parents call out your name from the parking lot; besides, I had to go into the school and get some things from my locker), I got excluded from the meal the family was going to have at the Pantry (a local restaurant). Instead, they drove me home, set me to work weeding the garden, then they all went out to eat.

Speaking of weeding the garden, there was this time that my parents got cheesed off at me for doing something wrong (I no longer remember what, thankfully) and made me weed the garden. They had said some pretty hurtful things to me during this latest round of conflict (probably about my grades), and so I found it deliciously bloody ironic that my mom told me, as she handed me a pair of gardening gloves: "Put these on.. I don't want you to be hurt." So where was that concern during the round of yelling they'd just had with me? Maybe they thought physical hurt was more immediate than emotional hurt, I don't know. But I don't think one is necessarily more hurtful than the other. Physical pain may heal over time, but emotional pain leaves deep scars.

There were also the times that my parents refused to let me eat anything for dinner (except maybe rice, if they were feeling generous) because of something I'd done wrong. That might be a usual childhood punishment, but they were doing it when I was 14 and 15, for goodness' sakes! Definitely not a child, anymore. There was this time that we were invited for dinner at a restaurant, and I couldn't eat anything except rice. Then my cousin (who was living with us at the time) intervened and asked if I couldn't have something more. Believe me, I was grateful to her. Of course, this got spun by my mother into: "If Yvonne hadn't been so nice to you, you wouldn't have gotten anything else to eat!" More like they couldn't refuse my cousin at all. (or she'd think that they were being cruel, which they were)

There was also the time that I wasn't allowed to speak to anyone because I had managed to do something wrong.. AGAIN. My parents went out for the night, and left a family friend (Auntie Betty or Auntie Gloria) in charge to look after the three of us. She must have thought it peculiar that I didn't answer her when she spoke to me. (my parents probably didn't tell her that I wasn't allowed to speak to anyone)

I remember when my parents made me write lines (yes, just like elementary school) detailing what I must never do again. "I will not plug the toilet again," "I will not hurt my sister again," etc. all written out at least 100 times on blank or lined paper. If I had missed one line, I had to redo them all over again.

There were the times that my parents forbade me to read anything because my grades were not that great. (no, I wasn't that great a student, but I did try) Now this was a real punishment, since I love to read. Of course, I'd try to sneak in a bit of reading by claiming that it was necessary for school. (which was definitely not the case with my brother's Asterix comics that he borrowed from his elementary school library)

My mother would also deny me TV privileges. But she would deny me those, plus reading and phone privileges, for at least a week or more. And she would continually tell me that I'd done wrong.. so I don't think her temper ever cooled down. For that matter, neither did my father's.

Then there was the time that they discovered I'd been calling my mother a bitch. In retrospect, it was unwise of me to show the note to my sister (I'd been writing a note to my friend Nick), but they didn't have to make me kneel on the floor all afternoon and evening as punishment! Of course, they kept the ripped-up note in their room for some time as a guilt trip punishment; every time I went into their room for weeks afterwards, I couldn't help but notice the remains of the note. (I had to go in their room to do various chores in there, like sweeping the floor and such)

I remember my mother slapping me in the face more than once; usually for lying or some offense like that. (or for going to visit my old elementary school when I should have gone straight home) When I talked to people who were a year behind me in school, and they told me that they could take the bus downtown all by themselves, I was jealous! I would never have been allowed to do that, you see.

I could probably think of more things to relate in this post, but I think this is more than enough for now. Suffice to say that there were many, many times when their punishments and such left me crying to myself, friends, counsellors, etc.

Of course, if I related all of my tales to my mom, she'd probably either deny it or brush it off with something along the lines of: "Well, we were your parents, so we had to punish you. I'm not sure it did any good, though. But all parents have to punish their kids when they do something wrong, and you were the worst out of the three of you, so it was justified."

And my parents wonder why I seem never to tell my friends the good things about them! Yes, they have their good qualities, but is it any wonder I'm hard-pressed to think about any right now? Besides, my friends are there for me if I need to vent, so that's certainly justified.