Just 2 days ago, I was so stressed out as my parents, after 31 years of marriage, made the decision to (finally) part ways. This was not easy in the eyes of a 31-year-old only child, but I let it be as I am too old to be taking sides. I maintained a neutral stand on the matter but promised my Mom that I'd support whatever decision she would make TO THE LAST LETTER.
Moving back, Friday before this incident happened, I had my usual Skype chat with my niece, who happens to be my only 101% confidant. I don't know what grimness wrapped us both that day and I cannot anymore remember why, of all topics, we discussed my father's physical abuse on me when I was a kid.
I was teary-eyed while chatting, as I related to my niece my most unforgettable beat-up day:
It was a rainy afternoon. Merienda was ready -- purefoods hotdogs, tasty bread, and Anchor butter. That was summer after finishing 3rd grade (I was 9). That afternoon, no water was running from the faucet so we were skimping on what was left for handwash purposes. That too, ran out. So I had to go out and fetch water from the rain so we would have something to clean up with after the merienda. I went out through the back door, which had a screen door with a spring, which would close by itself.
After filling half the pail with water from the rain, I requested my Mom to open the door for me as I did not anymore want my hands to be soiled (the door was dirty and food was waiting). My Mom stood up to willingly open the door.
To my surprise, father stopped her. He told her I should open the door. My Mom insisted on walking to the door but father grabbed her and threatened to punch her. Then he blabbered that the door was not dirty enough and that I should not be "delikado." Kesho BAKLA, kesho MASELAN, dapat daw LALAKE.
For almost 10 minutes, I stood by the door and begged them to open it, but in vain. Father said I won't eat if I don't open the door and get inside. SO I GOT PISSED (who wouldn't?). I opened the door, returned the pail where it was and told them that my hands are soiled, I won't eat anymore.
In a flash of thought, father stood up and punched me on the head twice. Something that darkened out my senses. I started to cry and Mom started to stop him. As I was crying, he went to the room, grabbed his belt and started beating me up all he could. I kept on wailing, asking him why, and insisted that I should not be beaten just for that. The beatup lasted for 2 hours. The finale -- father lifted me, threw me to the bed. Mom tried to defend me but she was taken aback when father was about to punch her. When I landed on the bed, father slapped my face, full force, left and right, no end, until I could hardly breathe. He stopped when finally, HE HIT MY EYE.
Mom was CRYING as she was helpless. She prepared hot water and face towel for the compress. My right eye was blue, and I was bleeding. Even if I was profusely bleeding, FATHER DID NOT LET ME EAT SUPPER THAT NIGHT.
All for being a kid who was bound to be GAY. All for reasoning out. All for STANDING FOR WHAT IS RIGHT.
Two days ago, my Mom finally had COURAGE to leave my father, and she will be here with me VERY SOON.
Two days ago, father FINALLY GOT HIS DOSE. God knows I have chosen to forgive him, but KARMA used another person to wake my Mom up, something I never succeeded in doing.
Today, I'm 31. My parents are old. I've come out. I've succeeded and become independent. I've separated myself from my parents and I have my own dwelling.
Today, father has become a white sheep. I have established QUEENSHIP of my own domain and nobody can just BEAT ME UP, like before.
Today, all remains to be a bitter trace of the past.
Today, I'm finally a PINK BUTTERFLY. Colorful, and FREE.
Today, I'm GAY. And I'M PROUD OF IT! :)
Moving back, Friday before this incident happened, I had my usual Skype chat with my niece, who happens to be my only 101% confidant. I don't know what grimness wrapped us both that day and I cannot anymore remember why, of all topics, we discussed my father's physical abuse on me when I was a kid.
I was teary-eyed while chatting, as I related to my niece my most unforgettable beat-up day:
It was a rainy afternoon. Merienda was ready -- purefoods hotdogs, tasty bread, and Anchor butter. That was summer after finishing 3rd grade (I was 9). That afternoon, no water was running from the faucet so we were skimping on what was left for handwash purposes. That too, ran out. So I had to go out and fetch water from the rain so we would have something to clean up with after the merienda. I went out through the back door, which had a screen door with a spring, which would close by itself.
After filling half the pail with water from the rain, I requested my Mom to open the door for me as I did not anymore want my hands to be soiled (the door was dirty and food was waiting). My Mom stood up to willingly open the door.
To my surprise, father stopped her. He told her I should open the door. My Mom insisted on walking to the door but father grabbed her and threatened to punch her. Then he blabbered that the door was not dirty enough and that I should not be "delikado." Kesho BAKLA, kesho MASELAN, dapat daw LALAKE.
For almost 10 minutes, I stood by the door and begged them to open it, but in vain. Father said I won't eat if I don't open the door and get inside. SO I GOT PISSED (who wouldn't?). I opened the door, returned the pail where it was and told them that my hands are soiled, I won't eat anymore.
In a flash of thought, father stood up and punched me on the head twice. Something that darkened out my senses. I started to cry and Mom started to stop him. As I was crying, he went to the room, grabbed his belt and started beating me up all he could. I kept on wailing, asking him why, and insisted that I should not be beaten just for that. The beatup lasted for 2 hours. The finale -- father lifted me, threw me to the bed. Mom tried to defend me but she was taken aback when father was about to punch her. When I landed on the bed, father slapped my face, full force, left and right, no end, until I could hardly breathe. He stopped when finally, HE HIT MY EYE.
Mom was CRYING as she was helpless. She prepared hot water and face towel for the compress. My right eye was blue, and I was bleeding. Even if I was profusely bleeding, FATHER DID NOT LET ME EAT SUPPER THAT NIGHT.
All for being a kid who was bound to be GAY. All for reasoning out. All for STANDING FOR WHAT IS RIGHT.
Two days ago, my Mom finally had COURAGE to leave my father, and she will be here with me VERY SOON.
Two days ago, father FINALLY GOT HIS DOSE. God knows I have chosen to forgive him, but KARMA used another person to wake my Mom up, something I never succeeded in doing.
Today, I'm 31. My parents are old. I've come out. I've succeeded and become independent. I've separated myself from my parents and I have my own dwelling.
Today, father has become a white sheep. I have established QUEENSHIP of my own domain and nobody can just BEAT ME UP, like before.
Today, all remains to be a bitter trace of the past.
Today, I'm finally a PINK BUTTERFLY. Colorful, and FREE.
Today, I'm GAY. And I'M PROUD OF IT! :)
Comments
this is a good one
Pero I'm proud of you gurl.. You rose up from your dark past and become the beautiful butterfly the you are now.. Congratz gurl..
Hindi lahat ng tao kayang gawin ang ginawa mo.. Kudos
^_^
Panalo ka!