Wednesday, May 27, 2009
♥ The past, the present and the future
My past was full of regretful things, my present is filled with many hateful moments and my future will be nothing but a blur. You cannot make time go faster, nor can you rewind it or stop it, it’s not a DVD player, it’s just reality.
If you can honestly say that you’ve never regret anything you have done in you whole entire life, I’d congratulate because you are either God, too positive or just plain insane. I can tell you about my past but it would be entirely up to you whether you want to believe it or not. Still, it’s the truth what I’ve been through til this moment, you can consider me making it all up… but the thing is, you sometimes have to experience it yourself to know what it’s really like…
My childhood was not all exactly pleasant. Physical punishment had started for me before I even went to kindy. My dad had been strict to me ever since I was little; his expectations for me were high, in fact too high for me to handle. I remember knocking a bucket of paint over when I was about 5. I remember seeing his angry face as he charged towards me and yelled out “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”After he cleaned up the mess he called me to his room and told me to shut the door. He made me hold out my little palm as he took a long and thick wire from the corner of the room, and then he struck my palm with that wire until his anger slowly faded out. My palms were so red that night that I couldn’t even hold my bowl and spoon properly that my mum had to feed me. I sobbed and sniffled as I chewed on each mouthful of my dinner. After that night, I never wanted to go near a paint bucket again.
As I grew older the method that my dad used to punish me became more and more terrifying, he would hit me with anything he can find; computer wires as a wipe, for example. To avoid any of these ‘weapons’, I have to always do well academically. But despite all my hard work, the result could never meet his standard, and this is when the part I hate the most comes in. He’d make me squad down and hold my arms out in front of me. Indeed a very awkward position and believe you do not want to stay in this position for long, you arms and legs would start to warn out and you’d start to struggle to keep the position. While I was in that position my dad will always be sitting in a comfy chair in front of me and push my arms up whenever they lowered themselves because they were too tired, my tears would always form a puddle of water on the floor as he kept on blabbing about how good he used to do at school and that he was ashamed of me.
I used to cry and cry until I have no voice left, I didn’t think I deserve all this, was I being target for being a girl? Because my brother never got any of the treatments I did. And I still don’t understand why my mum had never try to defend me, for some reason she was never around when the beating was in process. Why?
My dad never left any scars or distinguishable marks on me when he hit me with whatever he had then, it’ll just be red and swollen for that night and unbearable sting the next day. I was too scared to tells anyone about this, even my own best friend. But the worse never seem to stop coming.
By the time I was in grade 4, belting was introduced to me. It has been one of my biggest fears. Showing dad my test results and report cards were always hard since I knew I would get the belt treatment after he had seen them. The standard, when it comes to exams in Taiwan were extremely high, if your outcome is below 80%, you considered as fail. I’ve always tried to keep myself out of that danger zone and go above 90% in my exams, but it seems that I was always out of luck! After what felt like endless moments of squadding position (which was nothing less than ‘torture’), my dad took a thick and long belt from his closet and wrapped one end on his right hand, leaving the rest bit dangling. He grabbed my wrist so I couldn't escape as he exercised the belt in his right hand against my back body. Each time the belt came in contact with my body I experienced the stinging and burning pain over and over again. No matter how much I tried to dodge his attack, how hard I screamd and how hard I apologized, I was helpless.
That was the last but worse time my dad had beaten me, I was in Australia just a couple of days after the belting. My whole back body, arms and legs were covered with green and purple bruises. For about a week I slept on my stomach and wore long sleeve shirts and pants so that no one can see the brutal belt mark that I didn’t even want to see myself. I felt relieved though, that he didn’t come to Australia with the rest of my family, I had a taste of what it felt like to be relaxed.
That was a long time ago (6 years), but it’s something I probably won’t be able to forget. The pains, the difficulties and the pressures were way too much for a grade 4 girl to handle and as I think about it now, I have no idea how I’ve managed to make it this far. Was it really God’s plan for me to go through all that? Did he really want me to have a bad childhood that I would always want to forget? These are the questions I have that’ll never have an answer. ..
Now as I said, these are the fact and truth. Believe or not… it’s your choice!
YuMi
If you can honestly say that you’ve never regret anything you have done in you whole entire life, I’d congratulate because you are either God, too positive or just plain insane. I can tell you about my past but it would be entirely up to you whether you want to believe it or not. Still, it’s the truth what I’ve been through til this moment, you can consider me making it all up… but the thing is, you sometimes have to experience it yourself to know what it’s really like…
My childhood was not all exactly pleasant. Physical punishment had started for me before I even went to kindy. My dad had been strict to me ever since I was little; his expectations for me were high, in fact too high for me to handle. I remember knocking a bucket of paint over when I was about 5. I remember seeing his angry face as he charged towards me and yelled out “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”After he cleaned up the mess he called me to his room and told me to shut the door. He made me hold out my little palm as he took a long and thick wire from the corner of the room, and then he struck my palm with that wire until his anger slowly faded out. My palms were so red that night that I couldn’t even hold my bowl and spoon properly that my mum had to feed me. I sobbed and sniffled as I chewed on each mouthful of my dinner. After that night, I never wanted to go near a paint bucket again.
As I grew older the method that my dad used to punish me became more and more terrifying, he would hit me with anything he can find; computer wires as a wipe, for example. To avoid any of these ‘weapons’, I have to always do well academically. But despite all my hard work, the result could never meet his standard, and this is when the part I hate the most comes in. He’d make me squad down and hold my arms out in front of me. Indeed a very awkward position and believe you do not want to stay in this position for long, you arms and legs would start to warn out and you’d start to struggle to keep the position. While I was in that position my dad will always be sitting in a comfy chair in front of me and push my arms up whenever they lowered themselves because they were too tired, my tears would always form a puddle of water on the floor as he kept on blabbing about how good he used to do at school and that he was ashamed of me.
I used to cry and cry until I have no voice left, I didn’t think I deserve all this, was I being target for being a girl? Because my brother never got any of the treatments I did. And I still don’t understand why my mum had never try to defend me, for some reason she was never around when the beating was in process. Why?
My dad never left any scars or distinguishable marks on me when he hit me with whatever he had then, it’ll just be red and swollen for that night and unbearable sting the next day. I was too scared to tells anyone about this, even my own best friend. But the worse never seem to stop coming.
By the time I was in grade 4, belting was introduced to me. It has been one of my biggest fears. Showing dad my test results and report cards were always hard since I knew I would get the belt treatment after he had seen them. The standard, when it comes to exams in Taiwan were extremely high, if your outcome is below 80%, you considered as fail. I’ve always tried to keep myself out of that danger zone and go above 90% in my exams, but it seems that I was always out of luck! After what felt like endless moments of squadding position (which was nothing less than ‘torture’), my dad took a thick and long belt from his closet and wrapped one end on his right hand, leaving the rest bit dangling. He grabbed my wrist so I couldn't escape as he exercised the belt in his right hand against my back body. Each time the belt came in contact with my body I experienced the stinging and burning pain over and over again. No matter how much I tried to dodge his attack, how hard I screamd and how hard I apologized, I was helpless.
That was the last but worse time my dad had beaten me, I was in Australia just a couple of days after the belting. My whole back body, arms and legs were covered with green and purple bruises. For about a week I slept on my stomach and wore long sleeve shirts and pants so that no one can see the brutal belt mark that I didn’t even want to see myself. I felt relieved though, that he didn’t come to Australia with the rest of my family, I had a taste of what it felt like to be relaxed.
That was a long time ago (6 years), but it’s something I probably won’t be able to forget. The pains, the difficulties and the pressures were way too much for a grade 4 girl to handle and as I think about it now, I have no idea how I’ve managed to make it this far. Was it really God’s plan for me to go through all that? Did he really want me to have a bad childhood that I would always want to forget? These are the questions I have that’ll never have an answer. ..
Now as I said, these are the fact and truth. Believe or not… it’s your choice!
YuMi
Labels: YuMi
7:22 PM
