My Personal Tale of Torture

27 Apr

ksmpain

I was held in the custody of my captives for almost two decades and was never instructed of my right to legal defense. Those who held me captive and tortured me are still free today. To add insult to injury, many politicians advocate that this torture be allowed to be inflicted on other captives today.

During my time in captivity I was subjected to all manor of torture. While in a vulnerable state, my head was placed under water and water was poured over my face. During one incident a spider was placed upon my hand and allowed to crawl on me in spite of my impassioned protests. I was struck with pieces of bamboo & wood more times than I can recall. I was subjected to open hand slaps on parts of my body that would be covered by a bathing suit. Muscles on my arms and legs were firmly grasped and squeezed in order to inflict significant pain. My fingers were firmly grasped and my knuckles were rubbed together until I would cry out in pain. My fingers still show the evidence of numerous instances when they were bent back beyond the point of comfort in order to force me to talk.

I’ve been reluctant to discuss my personal tale of torture until now, but, given the current debate about interrogation techniques used by the CIA, I felt it was important that I tell my story.

The above is a factually correct description of my childhood deprived of much needed context, much like the current debate on “torture.”

I was held in custody for close to two decades. It’s called childhood.

While in a vulnerable state my head was placed under water by my mother. She had a fear of having her face under water and she wanted to make sure I did not adopt her phobia. Therefore, when I was very young, she placed my head under water while swimming in order to show me that it was fine. She was poured water over my head for the same reason.

My mother also placed a spider on my hand in spite of my protests and allowed it to crawl on my hand. I was young and was frightfully scared of spiders. She took a daddy long leg that I was scared of and held my hand while she let it crawl on me. She wanted me to see that it would not hurt me and my fear was not rational. I still don’t enjoy bugs crawling on me, but at the same time I don’t freak out when they do.

As a child I was spanked with both a wooden spoon and a bamboo back scratcher. I, like most children, could be a handful at times and my parents would occasionally spank me. They did this in order to correct behavior that would result in injury to myself or others. They also did it when I was defiant and refused to behave. They did this more times than I can recall.  I can’t recall the number, because I was rather young. The spanking was also sometimes with an open hand, when a wooden spoon wasn’t available or immediate action needed to be taken. They spanked my bottom, which as I described is an area of my body that would be covered by a bathing suit. This resulted in the creation of a monster that has never consumed and illegal drug or been arrested for a crime.

Not having any siblings, my father would occasionally would indulge in horseplay with me. During these times I learned the techniques called horsebite and turtle. The horsebite included the grabbing of the thigh muscles and squeezing. The turtle was when you asked somebody to show you their bicep and flex. While they did this, you grabbed the bicep with your fingers and squeeze while pulling up. While these are both painful, they were fun to learn and inflict on others. Boys engage in horseplay and my father was kind enough to fill the role of an older brother from time to time. He also showed me the rather effective technique of grasping a persons middle and index finger then grinding them against each other in your hand. He would later regret demonstrating this technique on more than one occasion. The cries of pain, or talking, I described were of course the word “uncle” in order to end the pain. The bending of fingers until one said “uncle” was one of my favorites and is in part why I can bend my fingers with ease.

The torture I described is parenting and some politicians still advocate that it should be allowed today. Sadly it does not seem to be a universal belief. While discussing the current debate concerning “torture,” my mother couldn’t help but comment, “Who knew that all this time we were preparing you for torture.” Shocking indeed. All this time I just thought they were preparing me for life.

crosspost at http://theanticrat.ning.com/

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13 Responses to “My Personal Tale of Torture”

  1. Dede April 27, 2009 at 3:04 PM #

    My father used a torture technique to wake me up for school. This technique is known as “The Whisker Willie”. It involved rubbing his scratchy, unshaven face against my delicately smooth, young lady face and scratching me repeatedly until I woke up. To this day I still feel scratchy on my face when I wake up. My father was a monster.

    • stickeenotes April 27, 2009 at 3:16 PM #

      You don’t have to be silent about the torture of “The Whisker Willie” anymore. They have drugs and counseling for PTSD if you need it, Dede.

      • Dede April 27, 2009 at 4:22 PM #

        Yeah, I belong to a support group for survivors of the Whisker Willie, a guy with a beard joined last week…..we beat him to death. Apparently, we need more group hugs or something.

  2. tosstsalad April 27, 2009 at 3:36 PM #

    I admit…I’m a torturer.

    I used to hold my dad’s hands down with my prepubescent knees while I would rapidly and repeatedly punch him in the chest. All the while I would lie to him telling him “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you.” Evidently, he would get so distraught that he would laugh uncontrollably.

    I also used to take advantage of my mom’s fear of her only son being a failure by constantly getting into trouble and being disruptive at school.

    I’m ashamed.

  3. domesticdame April 27, 2009 at 5:51 PM #

    I was a victim of torture too…..I had a little brother. He was & still is the favorite. Plus, we both had to walk home from school on a daily basis rain or shine.

    Later, my parents took us to a school that allowed paddlings for unruly children & we also prayed, whether we wante to or not. It was called Christian school.

    As I grew older I found that living under my parents roof I had to do chores, do laundry & not get paid for it. I was like a slave!

    Finally I was free…….I got married & now I am a parent who give swattings when needed, but don’t get ‘paid’ for my servitude around my home. It’s like being in one torture house to another. Man, it never ends!

  4. tosstsalad April 27, 2009 at 8:00 PM #

    I’ll sometimes go visit democraticunderground.com when I’m feeling self-abusive.

    • stickeenotes April 27, 2009 at 8:56 PM #

      Trying to have a reasonable debate online really is an act of self abuse. Maybe I am a masochist.

      • tosstsalad April 27, 2009 at 9:44 PM #

        That makes you an iCutter.

  5. Melina April 27, 2009 at 10:18 PM #

    I too, have been a victim of torture.
    Starting in 1999, I’ve had small folicules ripped from my face, legs and armpits.
    The infidels have many names for this torture… Some call it “tweezing”, “waxing” or “shaving”.

    Bastards! [making a weak and painful fist with closely cut cuticles…another form of torture.]

  6. Sweet April 27, 2009 at 11:00 PM #

    I too endured torture, however, the more painful stuff was at the hands of siblings…as for parentally inflicted torture…I was a perfect child at the mere thought of punishment, as, I trusted that my parents would follow through with anything they threatened

  7. Pow April 29, 2009 at 10:58 AM #

    I’m gonna sue my mother…My uncles…

    My ex wife especially. “The horror. The horror.”

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