Day 160: (Using Fear) Fear Can Either Be Damaging, Or It Can Be A Useful Tool

Fear can either be damaging, or it can be a useful tool.  I can determine good fear and bad fear from what kind of vibes or energy I pick up.  For the first 22 years of my life fear dominated my life in the form of fight or flight.  When it came to my abusive parents, I was terrified of them.  I couldn’t avoid them, because I lived with them up until they moved down to Florida back in October of 1991.  I was in college at the time.

Although I would have chosen flight years earlier when it came to confrontation with them, their last night in Kalamazoo I chose fight.  I confronted them both about the money they owed me.  I had restitution money coming to me from my brother John’s death.  My parents also owed me the money they stole from me during the years I worked at McDonald’s Restaurant.

At first when I asked for it, my parents didn’t take me seriously.  My father only laughed in my face, and said sternly, “Never mind.  It’s not your money anyway.”

I got so mad, I slapped him across the face, while taunting him like he had done to me throughout my life leading up to then.  I had enough of putting up with abuse from him and my mother.  I slapped him on both sides of his face with both hands.  I was so angry, I had voice of thunder in my voice.  It felt good to stand up to him.  He soon realized I meant business.  My mother came inside the living room, walked up to me, and tried to grab a hold of me to protect my father from me.  I turned around and shoved her.  She fell backwards into a chair.

I realize a person is supposed to treat their parents with respect, but people who beat on their kids don’t deserve respect.  I fought hard for the money they stole from me.  I smacked my father around so much, he begged me for mercy with tears in his eyes, yelling, “Don’t holler at me.  Don’t holler at me.  Don’t holler at me.”

I only got more angry the more he spoke, and taunted, “What are you, a woman?  You’re less of a man.  You always have been.  A real man doesn’t beat on his children.  A real man provides for his children when they are growing up.  The don’t make demands for their children to provide for them.  I will not show you mercy.  All my life you beat on me.  You struck me with the skillet multiple times.  You spat in my face as a sign to humiliate me.  To you, I was nothing but garbage not worthy be alive.  You told me you and your mother should have had me aborted before I was born, because I was no good for anything.  I was a twelve year old little girl when you told me that.  Good parents don’t say such things to their children.  Now it’s your turn to get the beatings.  I will show you no mercy.  You will give me the money that rightfully belongs to me.  One way or another, I will get the money you stole from me.”

He yelled to my mother, referring to me as a b—-, and he told her to get their checkbook and write out a check to me for $2,000.  They owed me more than that.  But, I was lucky to squeeze the amount of money I got from them.  It was my money to begin with.  It felt so good to chose fight, instead of flight.

The only way to teach abusive parents a lesson is for the child to give them a taste of their own medicine.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015

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