Instead Of Love

Instead of love, father,

you taught me the ugly

contorted face of rage.

Instead of kindness,

you taught me how

to criticize, belittle, and pick-at.

Instead of moderation,

your drinking taught me how

to be irresponsible with a substance.

By your example, I learned

how to use food as a crutch,

and how to numb myself with it.

Food medicated my constant anxiety

and compulsive spending

became a way to purchase self-worth.

Instead of learning to speak

to others with respect,

you taught me and devastate others

with words when I am cold,

hungry, tired, or stressed.

Instead of serenity,

your drinking and violence

created emotional chaos for me.

Instead of stability,

you left me a legacy

of battles and temporary truces

between you and Mom.

Instead of self-respect,

you taught me

self-sabotage and self-hatred.

Instead of peace,

your violence taught me

to fear others and

to worry constantly.

Instead of tranquility,

your wrath toward mother

made me afraid that you

would turn on me next and destroy me.

Instead of equality and partnership

between men and women,

you taught me that men

had all the power and that they

had the right to mistreat women

whenever they chose.

I also learned to fear domination

and control by men

and how to avoid intimacy.

Instead of self confidence,

I learned to feel "bad"

for surviving unbeaten,

and "guilty" for wanting to live...

while others I loved suffered your rages.

Instead of sleeping peacefully,

I sleep lightly, fitfully,

and in a constant state of vigilance.

To this day, I suffer the consequences

of traumatic shock.

I awaken with a start

in fear of mortal danger

and ready to flee in an instant ~

from even the most innocent

of noises in the night.

Instead of closeness, teamwork,

happiness and fulfillment with a spouse,

you showed me how

to exist unhappily for decades

and how not to do anything about it.

Instead of conflict resolution,

you taught me how to

accumulate pain and stuff my anger.

Instead of teaching me

many other good and noble and gentle things,

you created a part of me

that hates and that rages

~ and then turns these things inward on myself.

Instead of love,

I feel an enormous hurt,

a profound emptiness,

and I feel very, very sad.

©1992 by Barbara Corry

~*~*~*~

Used with permission of the author