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As I begin to tell him the events that led to where we are today I also realize it is nothing more than just years of practice and “getting used to it” and compartmentalizing my feelings and isolating them to each situation. I could be weeping one second and yet tell a joke the next if the moment required me to. However this was not make believe, this was not acting, this was not fake. In the moment I wept, I felt truly sad and yet as I told the joke the next moment I was truly amused. What was wrong with me?
To be honest, I do not know when this started, I have been lying for as long as I can remember. I do not remember as a child if my dad ever lied to my mum. But I do remember she used to tell me all the time that he lied and cheated and stole and that I had to learn from that.
Did I have a broken home? I never thought I did, we went to church every Sunday. I attended Sunday school, my mum attended the main service, my cousins were all in church as well, my aunties and uncles were all there as well. It was a routine of life, that we all went to church, and prayed, and sang. Yet I barely saw my dad on Sunday. It was normal for me that my dad did not come to church. As I got older, I remember my mum praying for my dad every week and I would to. When I was 8 years old I “officially” accepted the lord into my life, yet It was just something that we had to do officially because everyone else was doing it. To me, I was born a Christian. Throughout this time I never thought much of my dad not being a Christian, he was still my dad.
He was still my dad, from my first recollection of him hitting my mum in the stomach while I stood on the dining table helplessly not knowing what was going on. It was normal that every other night they would argue and he would shout and scream at her and sometimes she back. Those normally ended with one or two glasses breaking or my mum crying in exasperation. Then he would apologize while she cried in a way you could tell she was exhausted and done for the night. It was normal for me to pretend to be asleep so that they would not know that I was listening while all the cuss words imaginable were being thrown around the house. It was a regular thing that my mum would have her stuff suddenly “missing” from around the house. But instead of looking for it, that night the arguments would begin again. While I tiptoed around the house remembering sitting on the staircases to eavesdrop on the conversations I had no idea the effect it would have on me growing up.
My home life was not great but then at times they were perfect. My dad would come home with nice things and we would go on nice holidays where he always let me have anything I want. And when that happened my mum would always say please don’t let’s stop. But I would get upset at her because in my eyes my dad was doing alright so why would she want him to stop being nice and being together with us. Then she would just be quiet but she would be around, which was great because we were together. It didn’t matter, that most of our dinners out lasted an extra 1 to 2 hours always because my dad wanted one last drink. We always waited for that one last drink. But it was fine because we were together.
Now a few years had gone by, and this was the same. Only now I had begun to see these patterns and predict when they were going to happen. So what do we do? If it was a Friday my mum and. Me would have dinner alone, then sit in front of the tv after with all the lights off. Why? Because there was a 90% chance that my dad will come home drunk, and with the lights off and the fan off, we could scurry and run to the room as soon as we heard him arrive home. And then lie in bed pretending to be asleep, until we have heard him enter the room and lie in bed and sleep. At this point, he was already sleeping in a separate room. Then the coast was clear. Again, was this normal? It was something I had gotten used to. My mum and me were a team. Yet at the same time, I was starting to get used to telling little lies. Small ones that couldn’t hurt anyone but little ones. Why? Just to avoid a fight, or to avoid my parents fighting. I could have said, “yes pa, I am awake” when my dad was shouting calling my name or calling my mum at 9pm at night. But that would mean I would have to help him to his room while the stench of alcohol surrounded him. Then I would have to talk to him which would end up in him asking me to wake my mum up so they could talk. Which would eventually lead into the regular weekly fight.
Yet after all this, my mum still prayed for him every week in church. I remember I was about 10 years old at this point, and during the 1st prayer in church before the main service started before I was dismissed to Sunday school my mum would always be in tears every week without fail. And I knew it was because of him. I would get so shy because everyone around us would be comforting her every week. And I would start asking myself why? Why pray for him when he’s still the same and is not going to change, why pray for him and cry for him when he hits you and curses at you and breaks everything at home? Why? Why? You don’t need him, you work and do everything without him anyway. Perhaps it was around this time which I started making vows to never be like him. To never lie and cheat and steal. To never speak the way he does, to never treat a wife the way he does. Yet somehow, the way he treated me was not all that bad and that made me weak. When he fought with my mum and I started getting the courage to go in between them and shout “ENOUGH!!”. I remember times when he would then stop and then breakdown crying and tell me “I’m Sorry, I won’t do this again. Something is wrong with me and I want to fix this, and I love you and love mum.” Those words would then make me cry and I would hug him and say “it’s okay pa, mum has been praying for you and I have been praying for you, you can always change if you want.” Yet it was at this time my mum would retaliate and tell him to be quiet and that she's heard this so many times and that she had enough of this. And that is when I would jump in and always say, “if he wants to change why don’t you want to help him? Why do you pray for him every week, when he then says he wants to change and you say you don’t believe him??” Yet somehow tis cycle always repeated himself, sometimes it took weeks, sometimes it took days sometimes it took months. But it always came to pass.
By this time the boldness of my lies got bigger and bigger. I would lie as long as it meant I didn’t get scolding. Doesn’t matter if I got caught lying, I could just say sorry get beaten on the hand by some chopsticks and life would go on. That was the punishment of lying and though I didn’t like getting punished it didn’t seem to troubling. From leaving my books at home so that I could tell my teacher that I finished my homework but forgot to bring my books. To stealing gum from a store and mysteriously finding it on my mums bed. They were stupid lies, they always got me caught yet somehow I just got so used to lying it was not a big deal anymore. Then I started noticing my dad’s lies and noticing how he would always be going in and out of the room and opening my mums handbag when she was in the kitchen. Or telling me, “don’t tell your mum this, it will just cause unnecessary trouble.” Which I knew would make her angry so I agreed and did not say anything. So by this point I knew it was okay to lie, just as long as you didn’t get found out and its fine also to avoid conflict.
But, I was a Christian, I went to church every Sunday, I took part in all the extracurricular activities they had. From camping to bible quizzes, to sports to devotional studies. And I always wanted to be the best as my older cousins were always the best in their class. As I did not have any siblings of my own, I always looked up to them and would do anything to seem cool and be part of their gang. All their friends knew me, and so I was also very popular with the kids in my age group as I knew all the older kids. And my cousins were great examples. Yet somehow, with all of this prayer and surrounding myself with other good examples and Christians I still led a separate life on weekdays. I too would have my cycle with my mum as every few months or weeks I would get into trouble for lying, or just hiding the truth. Gradually that escalated to stealing and having things that did not belong to me. But all that would cancel off when my teacher would say he is a smart kid, just not using his full potential. Or my youth Sunday school teacher would say he has so much potential to be great just a bit naughty here and there. It meant, I was fine. It was just a naughty phase and whatever I was going through was normal. After all, if i am the best in my class and amongst my peers and I go through this at home they must be too right? They too would have arguing parents, or tell a little lie here and there. Or take something that does not belong to them.
At this point my dad was working overseas, and it was the best relationship I had seen in a while, as every time he would come back he would buy me stuff and we would all go out as a family to nice restaurants and maybe even a short holiday before he went back to work. Yet as the visits became less, the arguments started to begin over the phone now. But I already had my own phone so I had normal conversations with my dad. The conversations between him and my mum was always behind closed doors. And as she walked out of the room after the call ended you can see that she was just crying.
So now, every Sunday I would now pray that “please lord, do not allow me to end up like my dad. And please bless mum.”
TO BE CONTINUED….
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