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September 20, 2015 at 11:53 am (This post was last modified: September 20, 2015 at 12:03 pm by The Grand Nudger.)
(September 20, 2015 at 11:33 am)Esquilax Wrote: Is mental abuse a thing in your metric?
Sure, much harder to pin down though. On that count, I'm not sure whether the words I use or the spank would do more mental harm. Flying blind and hoping for the best. I do have -some- indications that for my big girl and big boy it's the words that sting the most, course..they can understand what I mean when I tell them that their behavior have shamed themselves - and me. Real tears, real sobbing. They'll come up to me hours after the fact and have a discussion, we'll exchange profuse hugs and I love you's......of course, they'll do the same thing again the very next day. I've had yet to spank a child more than once on a single count. After the first spank, the evil eye handles all further near-infractions. I chalk that up to the gravity of the situation, and the rarity with which I use that particular disincentive. I think that talking it out will probably yield stronger long term results, but I also understand that the deepest wounds are often not physical ones...and since I'm not out to produce physical wounds -more to abruptly interrupt deleterious behaviors....that really only leaves the mental ones. Looking back at my own childhood, the shaming left deeper marks than the switch or the belt or the knuckles, but I'll be damned if it didn't work (the shaming, that is).
If only they came with a manual, eh?
(my favorite strat, at the moment, is to make them "pick cherries" -hold their arms straight out palms up shoulder length, wiggling fingers- or lean into a wall with their hands behind their backs - but I switch it up to keep them on their toes - the more I use any one thing with my kids, the less it seems to work anyway, even if I;m using it on, say, the big girl..the little boy seems acclimated by observation, punishments become a game over time for them.)
I am the Infantry. I am my country’s strength in war, her deterrent in peace. I am the heart of the fight… wherever, whenever. I carry America’s faith and honor against her enemies. I am the Queen of Battle. I am what my country expects me to be, the best trained Soldier in the world. In the race for victory, I am swift, determined, and courageous, armed with a fierce will to win. Never will I fail my country’s trust. Always I fight on…through the foe, to the objective, to triumph overall. If necessary, I will fight to my death. By my steadfast courage, I have won more than 200 years of freedom. I yield not to weakness, to hunger, to cowardice, to fatigue, to superior odds, For I am mentally tough, physically strong, and morally straight. I forsake not, my country, my mission, my comrades, my sacred duty. I am relentless. I am always there, now and forever. I AM THE INFANTRY! FOLLOW ME!
September 20, 2015 at 11:59 am (This post was last modified: September 20, 2015 at 12:00 pm by Regina.)
Oops wrong thread sorry
"Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the road, and then getting hit by an airplane"- sarcasm_only
"Ironically like the nativist far-Right, which despises multiculturalism, but benefits from its ideas of difference to scapegoat the other and to promote its own white identity politics; these postmodernists, leftists, feminists and liberals also use multiculturalism, to side with the oppressor, by demanding respect and tolerance for oppression characterised as 'difference', no matter how intolerable."- Maryam Namazie
September 20, 2015 at 12:30 pm (This post was last modified: September 20, 2015 at 12:44 pm by MTL.)
Warning: this post may be triggering to some.
My Dad hit me with a belt.
It was frequent.
It was severe.
It was administered with you laying face-down over the side of their bed,
bare-assed, and you had to keep count.
The most I remember is 25.
If I covered my backside with my hands,
he'd hit my hands anyway,
and when I rolled onto my back,
the strike would fall just as impartially across exposed genitals.
I always wondered if he would have done that to a boy.
I guess it's ok to hit female bits.
Then you'd be sent to your room for the evening,
go without supper, have privileges revoked,
and be grounded, ON TOP of the physical punishment.
Now, my parents were dutiful and responsible,
they thought they were doing the right thing.
They never hit me with anything hard that would leave permanent damage,
and I never had broken bones or a black eye or anything like that.
I also know religion played a major role;
"spare the rod, spoil the child".
Maybe the connection I draw between the physical punishment
and my depression is not justified.
I do acknowledge that it is entirely possible I may have had issues, as an adult, anyway;
maybe I'm neurologically predisposed to it, I don't know.
But I know how it made me feel, at the time, and I know I still feel that way, today.
I basically have no self-worth, although I try to act like someone who respects herself.
What the physical punishment taught me that my body is not really my own;
that it is outrageously presumptuous for me to think I deserve dignity,
when I so obviously deserve to be hit, and to be shamed.
EDIT: I neglected to leave out the psychological stuff from my mother that was DEFINITELY abuse,
that absolutely played a role, and should be taken into consideration. But this thread is about the physical stuff
and I don't think what I received did me any good, although it certainly kept me in line, that's for sure.
I haven't seen any of you talk about the pleasure of picking out your own whooping stick. (if I missed it sorry) This was my Grandpa's solution. As kids we spent time with him each summer. If you picked out a switch that was to small (and I did the first time) he'd break it in the first swing on a chair and tell you to go out and get another.
Now the psych part began. How big of a switch do I get? One big enough not to break but one not to big to inflict more damage. If I get one that's green it won't break as easy. One with no branch ends to gouge into the skin. Some times it would take me an hour to decide. When I came back with what I thought was the right one, one that he would approve of, he would test it on a chair. If the test worked (didn't break) I typically only got one more swat and then the "well, was it worth it?". Crafty old SOB. Never tried bringing him a whole fireplace log. Wonder how that would have gone over.
Mom dealt out the spankings at home. Never that hard, just enough to get our attention. Maybe cry but never leave any marks. The spankings stopped when I told her she better hit me some more cause I didn't get it yet and laughed (maybe 10yrs). Big mistake. Then the taking away of privileges started. A far worse punishment for me.
BTW, never hit my child. Psych works much more effectively.
My dogs? Never hit. Typically, by the time I'd get close enough to the dog to even think about taking a swing to correct the behavior it would be to late. When they say dogs live in the moment, measure that in seconds/split seconds. If I would have hit them it would have been pointless. They'd never tie the offense to the punishment in their head. So, what do you do to train a dog, off leash (we have off leash events/activities), to not chase cars? Chasing cars often equals dead dog. Answer, shock collar. I know some are going to say that's cruel but that's through ignorance, either from the user or observer. The shock is turned to the lowest setting that gets their attention without causing pain. I tried it on myself. It's uncomfortable and startling but not painful. Plus, in that split second moment you can tie the behavior to the consequence. Took 1 hour to stop the chasing. He still wears it when the car traffic is heavy next to the event area but we've never had to use it again. Probably have to use it on our new female as she likes to fence fight and her intention is to kill. Have to wait until after the puppies.
Being told you're delusional does not necessarily mean you're mental.
(September 20, 2015 at 12:30 pm)MTL Wrote: Warning: this post may be triggering to some.
My Dad hit me with a belt.
It was frequent.
It was severe.
It was administered with you laying face-down over the side of their bed,
bare-assed, and you had to keep count.
The most I remember is 25.
If I covered my backside with my hands,
he'd hit my hands anyway,
and when I rolled onto my back,
the strike would fall just as impartially across exposed genitals.
I always wondered if he would have done that to a boy.
I guess it's ok to hit female bits.
Then you'd be sent to your room for the evening,
go without supper, have privileges revoked,
and be grounded, ON TOP of the physical punishment.
Now, my parents were dutiful and responsible,
they thought they were doing the right thing.
They never hit me with anything hard that would leave permanent damage,
and I never had broken bones or a black eye or anything like that.
I also know religion played a major role;
"spare the rod, spoil the child".
Maybe the connection I draw between the physical punishment
and my depression is not justified.
I do acknowledge that it is entirely possible I may have had issues, as an adult, anyway;
maybe I'm neurologically predisposed to it, I don't know.
But I know how it made me feel, at the time, and I know I still feel that way, today.
I basically have no self-worth, although I try to act like someone who respects herself.
What the physical punishment taught me that my body is not really my own;
that it is outrageously presumptuous for me to think I deserve dignity,
when I so obviously deserve to be hit, and to be shamed.
Sympathies. Isn't that always the way. We all have childhood psych scars. Yours from that behavior, mine from other parent behavior.
Being told you're delusional does not necessarily mean you're mental.
September 20, 2015 at 12:43 pm (This post was last modified: September 20, 2015 at 12:43 pm by Catholic_Lady.)
As of now, I do plan on spanking my future kids. Two spanks per bad behavior is the current plan. I knew a family with young children who had that rule, and the consistency of 2 spanks per bad behavior seemed to work well because they knew exactly what they'd get if they were bad. Those were some of the best behaved kids I ever saw.
"Of course, everyone will claim they respect someone who tries to speak the truth, but in reality, this is a rare quality. Most respect those who speak truths they agree with, and their respect for the speaking only extends as far as their realm of personal agreement. It is less common, almost to the point of becoming a saintly virtue, that someone truly respects and loves the truth seeker, even when their conclusions differ wildly."
(September 20, 2015 at 12:30 pm)MTL Wrote: Warning: this post may be triggering to some.
My Dad hit me with a belt.
It was frequent.
It was severe.
It was administered with you laying face-down over the side of their bed,
bare-assed, and you had to keep count.
The most I remember is 25.
If I covered my backside with my hands,
he'd hit my hands anyway,
and when I rolled onto my back,
the strike would fall just as impartially across exposed genitals.
I always wondered if he would have done that to a boy.
I guess it's ok to hit female bits.
Then you'd be sent to your room for the evening,
go without supper, have privileges revoked,
and be grounded, ON TOP of the physical punishment.
Now, my parents were dutiful and responsible,
they thought they were doing the right thing.
They never hit me with anything hard that would leave permanent damage,
and I never had broken bones or a black eye or anything like that.
I also know religion played a major role;
"spare the rod, spoil the child".
Maybe the connection I draw between the physical punishment
and my depression is not justified.
I do acknowledge that it is entirely possible I may have had issues, as an adult, anyway;
maybe I'm neurologically predisposed to it, I don't know.
But I know how it made me feel, at the time, and I know I still feel that way, today.
I basically have no self-worth, although I try to act like someone who respects herself.
What the physical punishment taught me that my body is not really my own;
that it is outrageously presumptuous for me to think I deserve dignity,
when I so obviously deserve to be hit, and to be shamed.
Sympathies. Isn't that always the way. We all have childhood psych scars. Yours from that behavior, mine from other parent behavior.
(September 20, 2015 at 12:30 pm)MTL Wrote: Warning: this post may be triggering to some.
My Dad hit me with a belt.
It was frequent.
It was severe.
It was administered with you laying face-down over the side of their bed,
bare-assed, and you had to keep count.
The most I remember is 25.
If I covered my backside with my hands,
he'd hit my hands anyway,
and when I rolled onto my back,
the strike would fall just as impartially across exposed genitals.
I always wondered if he would have done that to a boy.
I guess it's ok to hit female bits.
Then you'd be sent to your room for the evening,
go without supper, have privileges revoked,
and be grounded, ON TOP of the physical punishment.
Now, my parents were dutiful and responsible,
they thought they were doing the right thing.
They never hit me with anything hard that would leave permanent damage,
and I never had broken bones or a black eye or anything like that.
I also know religion played a major role;
"spare the rod, spoil the child".
Maybe the connection I draw between the physical punishment
and my depression is not justified.
I do acknowledge that it is entirely possible I may have had issues, as an adult, anyway;
maybe I'm neurologically predisposed to it, I don't know.
But I know how it made me feel, at the time, and I know I still feel that way, today.
I basically have no self-worth, although I try to act like someone who respects herself.
What the physical punishment taught me that my body is not really my own;
that it is outrageously presumptuous for me to think I deserve dignity,
when I so obviously deserve to be hit, and to be shamed.
EDIT: I neglected to leave out the psychological stuff from my mother that was DEFINITELY abuse,
that absolutely played a role, and should be taken into consideration. But this thread is about the physical stuff
and I don't think what I received did me any good, although it certainly kept me in line, that's for sure.
September 20, 2015 at 1:04 pm (This post was last modified: September 20, 2015 at 1:05 pm by TubbyTubby.)
(September 20, 2015 at 12:43 pm)Catholic_Lady Wrote: As of now, I do plan on spanking my future kids. Two spanks per bad behavior is the current plan. I knew a family with young children who had that rule, and the consistency of 2 spanks per bad behavior seemed to work well because they knew exactly what they'd get if they were bad. Those were some of the best behaved kids I ever saw.
Mine are 10 & 12 years old, we never hit them. It's always a been a softly spoken word to point out the difference between right/wrong, safe/dangerous and they respond quite happily, we prefer reason and conversation to teach children. They don't get involved with hitting each other or other kids and don't go around yelling and screaming.
You go start hitting your kids and it becomes normal behaviour which they will carry through life.
I see it in our city centre every day, parents yelling and swearing and slapping and the kid responds in like - neverending cycle and once you've gone there there's no going back. What is the next threat when they become accustomed to spanking and refuse to comply?
Anyway, your kids, your choice. And out of curiosity, how did your friends decide that just the 2 spanks were sufficient?
September 20, 2015 at 1:12 pm (This post was last modified: September 20, 2015 at 1:13 pm by MTL.)
(September 20, 2015 at 12:52 pm)Neimenovic Wrote:
(September 20, 2015 at 12:30 pm)MTL Wrote: Warning: this post may be triggering to some.
My Dad hit me with a belt.
It was frequent.
It was severe.
It was administered with you laying face-down over the side of their bed,
bare-assed, and you had to keep count.
The most I remember is 25.
If I covered my backside with my hands,
he'd hit my hands anyway,
and when I rolled onto my back,
the strike would fall just as impartially across exposed genitals.
I always wondered if he would have done that to a boy.
I guess it's ok to hit female bits.
Then you'd be sent to your room for the evening,
go without supper, have privileges revoked,
and be grounded, ON TOP of the physical punishment.
Now, my parents were dutiful and responsible,
they thought they were doing the right thing.
They never hit me with anything hard that would leave permanent damage,
and I never had broken bones or a black eye or anything like that.
I also know religion played a major role;
"spare the rod, spoil the child".
Maybe the connection I draw between the physical punishment
and my depression is not justified.
I do acknowledge that it is entirely possible I may have had issues, as an adult, anyway;
maybe I'm neurologically predisposed to it, I don't know.
But I know how it made me feel, at the time, and I know I still feel that way, today.
I basically have no self-worth, although I try to act like someone who respects herself.
What the physical punishment taught me that my body is not really my own;
that it is outrageously presumptuous for me to think I deserve dignity,
when I so obviously deserve to be hit, and to be shamed.
EDIT: I neglected to leave out the psychological stuff from my mother that was DEFINITELY abuse,
that absolutely played a role, and should be taken into consideration. But this thread is about the physical stuff
and I don't think what I received did me any good, although it certainly kept me in line, that's for sure.
God, MTL. I'm so sorry. That's horrible
Thank you for your empathy.
I hope it is clear that my goal was not to garner pity,
but to give my input, on what I view as the ramifications,
at least in part, of the effect that severe corporal punishment can have, in the long term,
from an adult perspective.
That was what I experienced. Overly severe and misguided punishment.
My dad wasn't a drunk, it's not like he beat me with a wrench or molested me;
there are people who have had it much worse than me.
I'm just saying that it's yet another way that (religious) good intentions
may end up doing a lot more harm than good.