Instead of only talking about things related to domestic violence on this post I decided to talk about anti-abuse. I feel like all of the research and healing and navigating through abuse that I have done, I am an expert on what abuse is made up of. In math if 10 is divided by 5 equals 2, the reverse is true whereas, 5 multiplied by 2 equals 10. Its absolute fact is what I love about math actually. Being an expert at what is abuse means that I am an expert about anti-abuse also. That's what I want to talk about today.
My dad was a fantastic father. According to my mother he was also a fantastic husband. According to my cousins he was a fantastic uncle and according to my aunts and uncles, he was a fantastic brother-in-law. My dad said what he meant and meant what he said. He too was an absolute type of person; there was black and white, and I was in my mid- to late 30's before he realized he should understand that other people operated in the gray more often than black and white. It was later in life that he realized that, but his realization helped me to come to that same realization. If you know me, you know I like to see the silver lining of the clouds. Because of my dad, I was the most sheltered, unsheltered person I know.
We lived in Japan for several years. While there, I wanted so badly to learn karate. I would see the competitions on tv, and things and I really wanted to be a part of it. I basically begged my dad the whole time in Japan to take lessons. He always told me no. No, he would say, it's too dangerous and you could get hurt. As a child all I heard was no you may not. He would do anything to protect my mom, my sister and me. He was protecting me from getting hurt. I was allowed to do plenty of things that were not injurious to me. This is what I mean by being sheltered but unsheltered. My life was never dull there was just no danger allowed.
As I approached the driving age, 15 years old, I always knew my dad would be the one to teach me how to drive. We had a manual shift car and an automatic shift car. I would walk out to the automatic shift, and he would steer me towards the manual shift. I just wanted to learn how to drive so from my child's eye view, I think he is just being hard on me. Turns out he was preparing me for something that may never happen, but it was important to him for my safety. He never wanted me to be placed in a situation where I am with someone and something happens, so I have to drive their manual shift car to get us out of the situation. My mom, sister and I are the only women I know that know how to drive a manual shift vehicle. That decision was about my safety.
About the age 20 I decided I wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle. I had seen the pictures of my dad on a motorcycle, and I knew he must have known how to drive one, so I talked to him about it. He told me in no uncertain terms that as long as he was alive, I was not allowed to learn to drive a motorcycle. He really didn't even want me to ride on one, but I was grown, and he wasn't that heavy-handed. I respected what he told me because he had spent my life doing everything to protect me so as an adult, I took it as protection. That was what made him a fantastic dad. He was a true protector.
As a protector my dad did his job. If ever I asked him for anything he would do his best to help me. If he thought it was going to involve some danger, he would tell me no. He would never entertain anyone that would try to speak against us either. He was a true protector. My dad could rest when I felt there was someone stepping into his role. I wish my dad was still here but everything that has happened in the years since he has been gone, these things would have killed him. Part of my silver lining is that he wasn't here forced to stand on the sidelines with no ability to protect me. The day after my dad died, I no longer had a protector. I was threatened the next day with such a hatred I was unable to even feel the full grief of losing my dad. No protection means that being in a state of grief meant being unsafe. Not physically but emotionally unsafe. Over the next decade or so, I realized how much I missed having someone that would protect me.
Protecting what he loves, is not a chore to a true man. One of the things that a man wants to do, if for nothing else, is protect what is his. This is only for those men that know their honor is wrapped in the safety of their loved ones. What my dad taught me, maybe unwittingly, was that a man will always protect his loved ones. I lived by that until I didn't know what to do when I no longer had any. The loss of my dad has been such a profound loss in my life. The fact that I was not protected by the next person who was given this gift has helped me in my journey. Yes, I have had been having a hard time but not because of the loss of a person but because of the loss of me. No longer having that other person has been a weight lifted off my shoulders. The silver lining is that there have been so many other men that have stood in the gap of protection for me. I am grateful for the lesson from my dad and for the lesson from those who did not know that being a man meant unwavering protection for their wife and children because it all leads me to the same place. Protecting who you love is non-negotiable. Even if you have never met my dad or another man like him, please take heed to his lessons. Safety first.
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