A Beaten ManPosted: February 21, 2014 | |
“…and every once in a while i had to take a beating. but by then i didn’t care. the way I saw it, everybody takes a beating sometimes.” -Henry Hill, Goodfellas
when i was 2 years old, my dad beat the shit out of me. no, i don’t think you understand- he fucking beat me to what i’m told was an inch of my life. i was covered head-to-toe in bruises. i don’t remember it, i was too young. but mom left my dad and refused to let him see me. my dad’s parents disowned him (for a little while).
eventually mom went back to him. i asked her why and she told me because she didn’t want me to grow up not knowing my dad. and my dad being a manipulative man, used that to needle his way back into her life. she stayed with him for 11 more years. and i was beaten regularly.
i’m not talking a few passes on the ass with a belt. we’re talking being held by my arm while multiple lashes landed where they landed over 3-5 minutes. and no, that isn’t an exaggeration. it really lasted that long. my mom began hiding behavior slips when i got in trouble at school.
had a friend sleep over once and we made cereal saturday morning. i was in fourth grade at the time. he left the milk on the counter and when my dad woke up he asked me who left the milk out. i gulped and told him i did. my dad glared at me, “get to your room.” he walked in and beat me like he always did.
when i came out the room my friend looked at me and almost broke into tears, “i’m so sorry man.” i shrugged my shoulders. “don’t worry about it.” by that point in my life it was useless to to say anything. being beaten was simply a reality of a young Danny.
my mom left my dad shortly after that. do you know how bad a marriage has to be for a fourth grade boy to be RELIEVED that his parents were splitting up. we moved in with Maw-Maw and Paw-Paw, and that time was the best time of my childhood.
one day at school we were playing football during recess (tackle, touch is for pussies). this kid tackled me, and when he got up he pushed my head into the ground. i went into the red. i set up to guard him on the next play. i didn’t have the ball thrown to me, but i ran at dude and tackled him, he got up and we went at it.
anyone that’s ever seen young boys fight, you know how insane it gets. there’s a complete chaos and teachers come running from everywhere. it was broken up really quickly and i got suspended for 3 days. when i explained to my mom what happened and she told me, “remember when your Maw-Maw told you how to deal with the bullies at the bus-stop? i nodded and she told me i had done the right thing. that if someone starts a fight with me she wanted me to fight back.
the fight at school was my first time going at a guy who pushed me. i hated how i felt after the fight, but something amazing happened.
i noticed no one ever picked on me. being tiny meant i’d get taunts, and pushed. i just stayed quiet. this fight was different. the bus-stop was just dealing with two kids ganging up on me, teasing me. i beat one with a stick.
but the guy in fourth grade was my first one on one fight. and i attribute it to being a kid that just accepted being beaten viciously and growing accustomed to it. when i FINALLY knew i could fight back, it was very empowering to me. and i HATE to fight. i’ve NEVER started a fight, and men that fight KNOW when they’re dealing with a guy that will swing.
my fathers an asshole, haven’t spoken to him since 2006. when i was living with him i decided to stay home for the evening (New Years Eve) and my dad told me i should go out. after he went to bed i got bored and walked 2 houses over to my friends family who was having a family party. i’d been there an hour when my dad showed up and told me to get my ass home.
when we got inside he started yelling at me and getting in my face. i told him to back off of me. then he said in a “big boy” voice, “you think you’re gonna hit me boy. go ahead.” i looked him right in his eye and said calmly, “no, you’re drunk. take your ass back to bed and well discuss this tomorrow.”
the next morning i told my dad that if he EVER got in my face like that again, i WOULD hit him. and there was no way he was going to beat me in fight. “you beat me enough as a kid that if anyone pushes me now, i fucking unload on them. and i don’t care if i win or lose.” i knew exactly what kind of man my father was.
the type of man that will always only speak, but never fight. he used his big brother to do his fighting for him as a kid, and that’s why no one ever fucked with him. he’ll talk tough, but never back it up. i prefer to stay among the warriors who speak little of suck things. and I respect them far more than men that won’t fight to protect those they love.
if you’re a fighter. i salute you.