In Dealing

When Dad's ire was lit, whoever was the target knew they were going to have to get through it somehow. I never saw it when it was directed at Mom because he'd focus in on her late at night when we were all upstairs in bed.  I only heard his hushed angry voice, bangs, crashes, blows, then the next morning would see the marks, usually finger marks around Mom's neck or bruises on her arms (because that was the only skin visible to me).
My point is that I don't really know how Mom dealt with his anger because I never actually witnessed it.  I do know, however, how the rest of us did.

Dory, the oldest, simply removed herself either in mind, spirit, or body.  She didn't seem to be home much, except when she had to do the things Mom couldn't because she was working to support our family.  Dory usually had to do things like make dinner, clean up the kitchen after meals, laundry (at a laundromat--sometimes, I got to go with her and thought it was the greatest, most fun thing in the whole world and wondered, why did she hate it so much?), and brushing my hair for school.  If not doing one of the aforementioned things, she was out with her friends or had friends spend the night (we were always safe when an outsider was in the home).  I think that's why she has such trouble with memories, because even if she was in the house when bad things happened, she was in her room "reading" or "studying".  She tried to steer clear of Dad.  Wise one.  I always thought I saw some kind of survivor in Dory.  I think I was kinda right.

Next was Gary.  He was the good one.  Good behavior, good grades, just all around good.  He did (or tried to do) everything right.  Unfortunately that tactic didn't much work with Dad because if he couldn't find things wrong, he would invent them (remember the line ups I mentioned in an earlier post?).  Sometimes he would smack Gary just for walking past him or chewing food too loudly or walking too heavily on the floor.  It was hard to figure out what was "good" in Dad's eyes--but Gary still tried.  I always thought I saw some kind of halo over Gary's head.  I think I was kinda right.

Number three: Dave.  Wow.  Dave had his own very unique way of dealing.  He dealt with Dad in his strong, bull-headed-I'm-gonna-prove-you-wrong way.  Imagine, if you will, the last great act of defiance: a mouse giving an eagle the finger as he's flying in for the kill (remember this guys?).  Poor Davey.  He tried his whole life to show Dad how very strong he was and because he was so physically small compared to Gary, the task seemed that much harder.  Dad knew though.  He knew there was no one in this whole world stronger than Dave--mentally or physically.  Except, maybe, himself (I'm talking physically only here).  And maybe that was the battle.  Dave would not allow Dad to hurt him and Dad would just try harder.  This never stopped in all the years he lived at home.  I always thought Dave was some kind of super-human miracle.  I think I was kinda right.

Now me, I just tried to deal with it as it came and when it wasn't there forget it all together.  I'd frustrate myself for years trying to understand, but I had an epiphany while waiting for Mom and Dad to return home after what I knew was a bad parent-teacher conference (prior to this day, I would shake, sweat, puke--totally anxiety ridden).  But as I began to panic on this day, something came to me--it would end.  He would either tire of beating me or he would beat me to death--either way it would eventually stop. I could take the pain if I knew there would be an end to it.  From that day on, I did not care what Dad did to me because I knew it could not last forever.  And when it did end, I would be happy again--because no matter what life threw at me (pepples, stones, rocks, boulders) I remained happy.  Happy to be alive and to be the person that God made me.  I think I still am.  Yep--I am--happy to be me and to be the sister of 3 awesome survivors!

Jen ;-)