Day 43 of 100

“Why did you spank me?”

I have been spanked a total of six times in my life. I never thought much about it (I mean I didn’t enjoy it when it happened), but I had friends that were hit with wooden spoons, branches cut from trees, and a special belt that hung in their father’s closet.

I know that never having been a parent, I really don’t know what it’s like to have to discipline a child. My dad was a yeller. I hated getting yelled at. Sometimes it felt like it was forever.

When I was about 12, I was watching my sisters, who are 9 and 7 years younger than me, and boy were they pissing me off. What were they doing? I was 12. Probably annoying me while I watched tv? Who knows. I remember stomping over to their room and screaming at my sister to stop doing whatever it was that she was doing.

And feeling horrible. I hated the heat of anger, the sound of my own voice raised, and the pounding in my head. I decided at that moment that I would never be a yeller, and I never have been. I still get angry and sometimes the heat rises in my head, but I refuse to be a yeller, and have never broken that promise to me.

Once I asked my dad why I was spanked. I outlined each of the times I remember. And each time he expanded on my memory and it was clear that I was a little hell raiser from breaking a toilet to almost letting my sister fall from a parking garage, I was not much of a rule follower.

By the way, after writing this it feels like I am saying I was beaten as a child. I wasn’t. I was a handful for sure. My parents were young, 21 and 19 when I was born, and there weren’t parenting classes or an understanding of mental health back then. They did the best they could with a child that was suffering from bipolar, anxiety, and depression.

And truthfully, going through all the times I got in real trouble, I deserved it.