I have never been hit so hard that I heard white noise. You always see it in film but never have I experienced this in real life. A family brawl has ensued once again and I was in the middle of it, if not the cause of it. Rooms were damaged and people bruised, cut, and bleeding but I got what I wanted, right? My brother was taught his ‘lesson’, right? I’m not so sure anymore.
- A gash in the mouth, typical
- A bruise on the hand, that’s new
- A bruise on the pinky toe [ Sidenote: Write apology letter to pinky toe because ramming it into a box of immovable ceramics is not cute ]
- A bruise in one’s faith, once again
I was lucky enough to find my mother idling by in her car before returning to agenda for the day. As natural as I can deem it, my mane was fiery and wild and an illustrious depiction of the rage I was feeling when in search for her. She came in and reprimanded us one by one until her arrow of blame finally pointed to me. And this is the part of the story where I cried. I don’t cry often because it makes me feel incredulously weak but at this moment, I drowned out my mother and thought “Jesus wouldn’t want this.”
After breaking one more valuable, I sat on our 20 year old treadmill and wept, apologizing to the Lord for all of my fury, and physical detriments, and especially my mouth. I haven’t cursed like that in a….very long time. So many words naturally rolled off the tongue in the fit of my rage, yet it only nullified my brother as I locked on to his eyes like a wild animal. I reflected on why I was so upset and maybe this may find its way to a decent explanation: No one in my house knows how to discipline correctly…appropriately? I’m tired of taking the responsibility stick and not being able to wield it when a fight breaks out, when I’m supposedly “in charge”. In comparison, it’s also heartbreaking to know that my mother’s version of discipline is dished out with a simple tagline, “I’ll tell your father when he comes home.”- Who would ever want to come home after a long day of work to only execute discipline, much less, delegate the consequences of a situation one doesn’t understand? My father is getting old and cannot handle every situation with grace as the ideal father would. Who is going to raise these young men when my parents are away for half day’s time? The pressure of this responsibility is only visible to me…
…and I do not want it anymore.