Losing the Plot
During physical abuse I would count, in my mind, the number of hits my father gave me. I did not do this to keep a record, but to get an idea of when the abuse might end.

One evening, when I was about seven, I lost count after 34. Something very different happened to me. My battered body became numb, and I no longer felt the beating. All my fears disappeared. I stopped crying and turned around to see what my father was doing to me. As I turned, I saw my mother, speechless and hiding in the kitchen. I looked straight into my father's eyes. I could see he had lost the plot. I saw his insanity. My father looked into my eyes and knew what I saw in him. He suddenly stopped beating me, and went to hide in his bedroom. I knew then I was the innocent one.

I saw the truth and evil ran away.


Over the next twenty five years, I have learnt several things related to this experience.

a) A large part of my recovery is based on spiritual principles. Over a long time, I have developed conviction, and awareness, that “I” am not my body. I have a body, but it is not really me. I view the body is an organism, or vehicle, for both my mind and soul.

The abuse was of my body, not of me. It only seems to be me when I think I am my body.
When my body went numb, I realized this truth in a way a six year old could. I took this truth with me as I looked into my father's eyes. He too, saw my truth, and snapped out off his moment of insanity.

b) My father's insanity came from extreme fear of losing his self-esteem (ego's pride and its need for respect). His fears blinded him from his own truth.
When my pain left me, so too did my fear. Without my fear I saw things clearly. I saw the truth of the matter.

c) I have heard all sorts of excuses why a parent abuses their children. Non of them made sense. Even the most common excuses, such as learnt behavior, or the war, made no sense to me at all.

The closest thing that made some sort of sense, was when I was addressing my own alcoholism. I realized that my father was also an alcoholic. And as a drunk, we both, now and again, lost the plot. A form of temporary insanity. This is no excuse for violence, but it explains it.

d) Many years later, I learnt that the way of violence has no mind. It is irrational behavior based on irrational fears. Regardless of the stories/excuses, there are alternatives to violence.
Violence, such as abuse or war, cannot be conquered by external means. It can only be resisted within oneself.

e) The final outcome from violence is sorrow. Nothing good comes from violence.
So, regardless of how vengeful I might feel, I need to resist vengeance to avoid harm and sorrow.

f) The role of my mother in this incident baffled me for a long time. I could not understand why she did not try to protect me. My only answer is that her fears of my father blinded her from seeing what was really happening.
Later that night, when I went for a bath, my mother was shocked by the physical damage I received. Reality sunk in for her too.

g) I was sad for my father for he could not admit his mindless violence and sorrow to me. Even after I apologized for my part in our dysfunctional relationship, he could not admit his part to me.

As a six year old, I was unable to overcome further abuse until I left home as a teenager.
Throughout my life, my father never acknowledged his ill-actions to me. However, after he passed away at 73 y.o., my stepmother mentioned that he said to her, “You would not have liked me, when I was younger”. To me, that was an acknowledgement. May he rest in peace.