Quote:
Originally Posted by horses4courses
That's a rough story.
You did well to come out of it in one piece. 
My dad passed in 1966 in Chicago, aged 36.
While I was only 8 years old, and didn't know him well,
the majority of my early memories of him are good ones.
He was never mean to my mother - not sure how I'd have coped with that.
I believe those early years are crucial in forming the person you become.
While it's not impossible to end up okay, it makes it really difficult. |
My dad never hit my mother but would shove her around and threaten her.
I have always been an insomniac and heard all the fights. She did not divorce him strangely enough until I was 12, and I remember nothing but abuse. I am guessing the threats kept her there. He was a cop and said he could beat her and get away with it, he said he knew how to inflict pain and not leave marks. Her mother was well off and finally came and got us, why it did not happen sooner who knows. It did often think of taking a baseball bat to him while he slept as working odd hours he was sleeping alone while I was wide awake. I knew where the guns were and knew how to use them, but I figured
that means life in institutions even though my homicidal thoughts ended at the age of 12.
One thing that has stuck with me is when someone's attorney blames a rough childhood for a client committing a heinous crime, especially someone who abuses children, because they are repeating a learned behavior. To that I say they can rot in hell, I broke the chain and never got professional help.
Another incident I remember is when I was visiting my father when I was 18 because he had visitation rights to my 15 year old sister and I lived a few towns over and he paid me to go get her and then return her home a couple days later. A dirt bag looking neighbor was arguing with his girlfriend
in the front yard and slapped her and shoved her to the ground. I was shooting baskets, and my dad was doing some weeding. I instantly ran over and confronted him offering if he needed someone to push around to try me. I then told the woman I would keep her safe and call the police if she wanted. She said she would be ok. I told Mr Dirtbag if he ever lays a hand on the lady again I won't be so nice next time, and that I am a frequent visitor to the neighborhood.
My dad saw the whole thing, at the time he is a 41 year old CHP, concealed carry permit, a badge and the right to arrest. He belittled the hell out of me, said the guy acts like a convict hiding out, I should have minded my own business and I could have brought my dad trouble.
Needless to say my dad caused me to have a low opinion of law enforcement officers I carried with me for longer than I should have.
