It's not like I started out being violent from the womb.
According to my father and his father, I was very quiet. That's why my grandfather named me, "Beautiful Peace."
In my mother's own words on my baby album, I gave out a powerful angry cry when she pinched me. What loving mother would do such a thing?!
I lost my gallbladder to wrath. Wrath is not hatred. It's a deep seated resentment with a desire for vengeance. The resentment of indignation for being scorned by a parent.
When I became a mother, I was required to take parenting classes. My child saved me from bitterness. They opened my eyes to see it from their perspective. I tried to save them too from my filial relationship with my parents. They saw how my parents treated me. The only way I knew how to save my child was to stay away from my parents.
My father only met my child several times. The only time my father connected with my child was his love for food. That's all she remembers him for. That's something I will cherish for the rest of my life.
I will never choose violence for the sake of it. It will always be my last resort to preserve a life. It doesn't matter how I will wield it as a weapon. Anger will reason with Truth. Justice and mercy will prevail. Compassion has no effect if rational resolution of conflict doesn't exist with justice.
Rational resolution of conflict involves a structural and logical approach to understanding and addressing disagreements by focusing on identifying the root causes, and finding mutually beneficial solutions through open communication and collaboration.
Sadly, not many people are emotionally intelligent to pay attention to what others are saying – both verbally and nonverbally – to understand my viewpoints, concerns and/or experiences.
No matter how much I prioritize my mother's expectations of me, it will never be good enough. She wants an indentured servant who will cater to her whims and without questioning her authority. Her inability to eloquently provide essential information for a service she wants rendered will leave you apprehensive, trepidatious, or alexithymic.
I have been a devoted daughter throughout her marital turmoil as a battered wife. She may have endangered all of her daughters from being kidnapped, but I stepped up beyond my role as a child. I taught my sisters how to find the joys in their lives without looking for our mother's approval and validation.
My mother taught me a lot of things by how she mistreated me. She may not see it now, but I honored her the best way I can by sharing and applying the lessons I learned and impart them to my younger siblings. Even if I wasn't the first-born, what others see from how I present myself, is a loyal, trustworthy, genuine, pragmatic, and tender-hearted daughter. It will impart the thought, "Surely, her mother is a woman after God's own heart."
There was a time I remember my mother being happy being with my father. Her smile radiated with love. I adored everything she did for us - my father, my sister at the time when she was 3, and my pet cat, Snowball (before the Simpsons show existed). Moving to Brunei changed her.
I was too young and powerless to stop the abuse. She told me that my father hated me because I wasn't born male. I believed it my whole life. It wasn't until the moment I was beside my father's death bed, when I finally learned my mother lied to him too. She told my father that I hated him for beating her. My father and I reconciled those silent animosity in our hearts that was fueled by the one who started it - Elizabeth Isorena.
I've heard stories about her family. I realized I have to omit so much of it. Stories from a bitter heart aren't always necessary true.
I wasn't bitter towards my parents. I was angry by the way they treated me. Hatred was not involved in the injustice I lived through under my parents' household. It was wrath because I fought for my life to survive. I prayed everyday to God to help my parents love each other. It was the belief of my existence that fueled their bitterness against each other. Wrath consumed me because I was too powerless to defend myself - let alone understand why my parents chose to abuse me.
Strangers told me that I was the trial child. I've read enough stories that it's hardly ever true. No loving parent would ever inflict pain and suffering to a child. My mother was a battered wife for 35 years. She told me that the Philippines do not offer sanctuaries for women like her. She was forced to suffer her husband's authority over her.
Emigrating to America didn't change her mind from leaving him. She denied herself the freedom of self-care for the sake of her children. The youngest sister was 12 years old when we moved from Brunei to California. That child was old enough to understand what divorce was. I knew from the moment when the youngest was born, that my mother wouldn't dare separate from her abusive husband.
I am the only divorcee from my family branch. I made the right decision regardless of how much my parents felt the shame and embarrassment they endured from their own parents' perspective.
My grandparents from both tree branches never saw me grow up. Their opinions don't matter to me. I denied my mother the joy of seeing my child. My child doesn't deserve the toxicity my mother's generation inflicted on me.
If I have to live through that hell all over again, I would. My loyalty and devotion will stay the same as it always was - protect those who can't protect themselves. I would go through hell and high water to save my sisters and child again regardless of my well-being.
I saved my mother from being murdered by her husband. Yet, she continued to treat me the same way she treated all my pet dogs. She beats them because they chew on things. She beats me whenever my father beats her. It mattered not what I was doing at the time. She beat me one time I was sitting quietly in the living room reading a book.
I understood the difference between discipline and abuse. My understanding of discipline at the tender age of 7 was acute. I told her church pastor that my mother should have explained the consequences for disobedience. Beating a child, who was quietly reading a book was obviously abuse. My mother told the pastor that she ordered me to clean the house. The very same woman who made me promise that I should never lie to her.
I cleaned the house alright. She should have asked instead of beating me without reason. You just don't walk up to someone to beat the life off from them to demand a service rendered. Can you imagine what a world would be like if people did that?
I'm not here to feel sorry for myself. The stories from my childhood are to give the world a glimpse that their concept of inherent evil is non-existent.
A child is born to know what is right from wrong. It is written in the Scriptures of Isaiah. A child in a mother's womb can hear. It's ability to understand the world is through its mother's preconceived notions.
Jesus' sermon on the mount in Matthew's account states that even if you do evil, no matter how much you love your children, is how God's love transcends in their hearts.
I was 35 when my mother finally confessed how much she wanted me dead and non-existent. It wasn't funny then.
I was a battered wife for 5 years. It was enough to understand my child and I were no longer safe. I had people who tried to help me. We made a safety plan. However, I was too impatient. I left before I had all my belongings. Even though I didn't get all of my belongings, I was victorious in gaining custody of my child without having to suffer from further physical abuse during the separation.
The divorce took a toll on all of those involved. I owe all of the people, who helped me regain my freedom, my life. They know who they are. I will be forever grateful. After everything was said and done, the co-parenting was a smooth transaction. My child grew up understanding that conflicts happen when 2 people don’t understand each other. It takes a lot of courage and emotional intelligence to make amends to resolve a conflict.
The conflict I have with my mother stems from her selfish desire to control me. A virtuous woman described by Bathesheba came from her understanding of her Jewish upbringing. Bathsheba was absolved from having sexual relations with King David. King David murdered her husband. She grew up in his royal courthouse since her family served him. Her willingness to lust with King David and live through the consequences of her actions is why Proverbs 31 exist. I learned from the Torah Bible study that emulating Sarah, Esther, and Ruth are the qualities every woman should strive for.
I was taught to live by example. I don't need to prove to anyone that I am a good person. I will always be the villain in my mother's story.
William Shakespeare's play, 'King Lear,' summarizes my life story well. You can only take pity of King Lear. If he had only let his ego fall to the wayside, Cordelia would still be alive and well.
I have always been "dead" to my mother. Why else would she treat me inhumane? All life is precious to God - whether it be a plant, a body of water, or an animal. The most important lesson you can learn is to accept that the world (nature) is connected with you. If you disrespect it, nature will run its course. Don't believe me? Ask the people who got bitten by a tick that makes them allergic to meat.
How you choose to live your life is what you make of it. The power is yours.
