Glad I'm not the only one that sees through. My whole family would jump all over me and beat me down with the bible if I made a peep about my brother sister using drugs and all the bad behavior that goes with it but if I said or did some trivial thing or made a tiny mistake I'd get literally beat down. At 15 I ran away covered in blood and sent the night on patrol with a cop who found me wandering the street. He was so kind he regaled me with crazy tales and jokes all night and let me crash on his couch in the morning. Got up at noon when his wife served breakfast. He sent me back home and things got worse as I realized my religious family was using me as a scapegoat for their own dysfunction. The next time I got beat I just kept screaming at grandpa to beat me more and was wiping the blood from my face and slinging it back in his face. I'd gone over edge, felt no pain and actually loved it. It was like really weird. After that beating there were several more and I started fighting back. Eventually cops came, I was put in jail where the sheriff treated me like a captive prince. His wife and sexy daughter would bring me home cooked meals but in that cell I stayed for over a month while a legal battle waged in the court over who got to keep Little Johnny. Grandpa came to see if I would voluntarily go home but stared his preaching straight away I grabbed the table so hard to keep from going into a rage the sheriff saw I was barely able to keep my mouth shut he returned me to my cell.
Court came and I was sent to an evaluation center for a year. Whoever I was before I had changed. Some of the staff tried putting their hands on and I lashed out. One teacher got a serious black eye but beyond spending a day in solitary I wasn't punished. Each time it was investigated and found that someone had put hands on me and got rough. The teacher must have been put on notice 'cause he was super polite with his black eye. When I was returned home my Grandparents were strictly hands off but I had to beat that lesson into my brother and sister.
I never had it that bad, sorry it happened to you. At least the officers cared enough not to send you to foster care and everything eventually worked out even though it was transitive at the time.
My father used to get beatings like that but it’s because he wouldn’t cry, if he did his sister would get beat next. So he learned to take the beatings until his alcoholic dad got tired and didn’t feel like hitting anymore.
The most I had was just telling me and each other not to judge and then saying so you’d let a murderer or pedophile in the house with the kids, then they’d do mental gymnastics.
Most now see the stupidity after I read it to them. My mom who always tries to act neutral will claim, that’s just your interpretation. Did you just hear what was read lmao.
Well, I'll admit I have issues to this day but when I was younger, looking back I can we I was borderline sociopath. My mother did more emotional damage with her abuse until the state gave custody to my grandparents. When I first went to school some teachers noticed in California and sent me to a psychologist. He told Grandma I was asocial. Not antisocial, just asocial. One teacher hit me for not paying attention and then I just refused to do anything. So I got a paddling by the principal which made me more withdrawn, they had a meeting with some important people who used words I didn't understand but one thing I remembered was one man suggested they put me in "a more fluid situation.".
The new teacher was super nice but made no demands. She basically was just kind. I discovered that the art tables had pegboard sides with nothing inside. I crawled inside and just stayed there for most the class and she said nothing other than coming by and asking how I was doing. I was amazed and spent most of every day hiding out. Then another kid asked me if could hide out also and I showed him the next table was empty too and assured him it was ok, he wouldn't get in trouble. After that we would go to recess together and hang out on the edge of the field talking, or just watching the clouds.
This teacher would pick me up on Saturday and have me hang out with her toddler (free babysitting?) while she vanished to her apartment. It was boring but I felt I owed her. To my mind just her picking up made me feel important and cared for.
I started participating in class again and actually enjoyed it.
in spite of all the hell growing up there were bright spots like this that preserved my humanity I think. It was rare but enough. I shudder to think where I would be today if not for those few people who showed me kindness. Most likely prison I think.
I try to pass that kindness on when I can. Give praise to new kids coming on the job, help them out when needed or just hand out bottles of water.
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