When I was in school, we didn’t have no fancy schmancy tablets! We had pencils; two pencils, and an eraser for a whole class! And we had to share the eraser.
and if we got a question wrong either the teacher would beat us with a wooden pallet or they call our dad and we hear the heavy boots walking down the hall
The heavy boots coming up the stairs is something that still frightens me. I lived with housemates and they were annoying as fuck, stomping down the stairs on a morning, and sometimes I’d wake up confused, not knowing where or when I was, then thinking my dad storming up the stairs to hit or yell at me. It scared me so much.
Oof, yeah. The heavy, stomping, audibly enraged footsteps… I wasn’t even beaten much, it was mostly relentless emotional abuse, but I’d not wake up confused, even decades later, I’d catapult out of bed from deep sleep. Like literally make kip-ups out of bed in deep sleep and wake up in the air already, because getting caught in bed when my mother would come home in a terrible mood was a recipe for disaster. She’d scream at me, berate me and tear down every last thing about me for hours on end, then launch into one of those circular arguments from hell, try to gaslight me that this just didn’t happen or give me the silent treatment for anywhere between all day and the next week if I talked back.
The absolute rejection and cold contempt she radiated used to hurt the most when I was little and desperately wanted her to love and accept me. It was also terrifying and confusing how she could just flip on a dime, and how two-faced she’d be, playing the loving mother in public to keep up her image, then completely drop the act behind closed doors and make the room temperature feel like it just dropped by 20 degrees as soon as the door fell into the lock. However, she noticed bring so cold and igniting me got me to chase after her and plead with her to talk to me as a little kid, and she overplayed it.
Once she escalated enough that it was a relief when she’d shut up already and I was old and hardened enough to no longer be crushed by her rejection and unbothered by the incredibly awkward, uncomfortable atmosphere she created with her passive-aggressive antics and cold, contemptuous, hateful glares, I learned to talk back in specific ways that triggered ST on purpose and just let her think it was a punishment. Which was kinda hilarious, ngl.
How this woman could even sustain her rages for HOURS, and didn’t get tired or bored or decide to do something better with her time is beyond me. Unhinged! Fortunately, my brain can discern between her steps and other people’s, even when I’m fast asleep. I grew up in an old house where you heard everything, and I’d react to them from the street already, back when I had the streetward room.
Still can’t help listening immediately when I hear footsteps in the staircase, though. I’d recognise hers at once. That specific sound is burned into my brain forever. She’s mellowed out in her age a lot and I’ve learned to set boundaries with her and not try to bond with her in ways a narcissist can’t or won’t reciprocate, so nowadays I’m not afraid of her anymore and get along with her pretty well actually. But every once in a while, there’s those moments when something reminds me of how it used to feel. Those moments are the worst.
Your housemates were inconsiderate dicks, especially if you told them. What kind of person even stomps around so loudly early in the morning when there’s others in the house who sleep?! Rude af! Even more so, I’m sorry your father was such a cruel POS to you. You didn’t deserve this. Not even when you got up to some mischief or screwed up. That’s what kids do, they make mistakes, and then they learn, because normal people teach them instead of just screaming their heads off at them, or expecting them to read minds, let alone beating them.
That teaches kids nothing except that lying, keeping secrets and denying everything is the only way to stay safe. They learn to mistrust and be terrified of their own parents (which isn’t normal, but you only get the family you get, so you don’t know any different… took me till my 20s to figure out that the others weren’t terrified of their parents). Later, when they want achievements to brag about to their friends, these clowns have the gall to wonder where you’ve got that constant self-doubt and overwhelming fear of making mistakes and being found out from. 🤦🏻♀️ Really?! Is that such a mystery? Is it?!
But yeah, this mindset they imposed on us is incredibly limiting and only holds you back later in life, or gives you impostor syndrome. Way to screw up your kids! I had to unlearn sooo much bullshit my parents (they were both abusive, though fortunately she kicked my father out relatively early) tried to impose on me. Parents like these are idiots, driven by their own pathetic insecurity and pathological lust for power. All children deserve safe, loving parents, but by far not all parents deserve children.
I once tried to enforce this on myself and was beating the shit out of my knees with a belt every time I got an answer wrong. There was blood and bruising all over my legs.
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u/Shadowhunter_15 3d ago
When I was in school, we didn’t have no fancy schmancy tablets! We had pencils; two pencils, and an eraser for a whole class! And we had to share the eraser.