Just like your father...

When did that happen? I consider myself to be very liberal and open minded. I support every bodies right to live their life without judgement (as long as nobody is being physically abused) and am open to most situations. I learned that partially from my parents and I guess the other part of that is just part of my genetic coding. But the other side of that is my childhood was filled with "life lessons," "tough love," and "lifting your head up and just walking through life." My parents are realists who raised us to be the same. There are moments when I wish that I was simply a dreamer or even just believed that everything would always turn out good. But that's not it...I was taught that life can be hard, I would be hurt and I am expected to survive regardless.

My dad was a wrestling coach throughout my entire childhood and he took it very seriously. He viewed wrestling as a way of life, maybe a philosophy would better describe his views. He would lecture us that wrestling was a snapshot of the world...you had to depend on yourself, it was hard work, full of pain and joys...and that in a split second everything can change. And you have two choices, to give up or fight.

I was telling somebody this morning a story from my childhood that finally made that connection of his lessons. When I was in middle school, a couple of friends (or ex friends more accurate) egged my house and spray pained, in red paint, my name and then words like slut, bitch, whore!!! It took up the entire sidewalk in front of my house. My mom tried to pour some water on it and nothing changed. My dad told me that a power washer might help...but we didn't have one. And then that was it! They acted like it was nothing and expected me to do the same. I never mentioned it again. So for the next several years, that stayed out in front of my house like Scarlet letter. Except for the fact that I had never been in a sexual relationship of any kind at that point...so they were just lies for people to read about me. The neighbors asked me about them periodically, friends who came to visit and even family members gathering at our house would all have the chance to read the ugly words (lies) about for years to come.

I hadn't talked about that or even remember that event for such a long time. And I have to be honest, I would do it different for my child. I would rent a power washer to remove the lies and hurt branded on a place that is suppose to be their retreat from the outside world. But, I get why my parents didn't and even have some respect for that choice. I learned to stay focused on what I knew about me. I learned to not hand out that type of judgement to somebody else because I know how quickly one action can change and hurt. I learned to survive and stand up and walk through the hurt, shame and embarrassment. That doesn't make it easier or less hurtful...but it makes me a survivor.