Punishment was verbal and physical. Physical punishment was always done for your benefit. My parents would sometimes say that it "hurt them more than it did you" to give me a "whooping".
My mom was very religious so my behavior was due to moral failings. I had the "Devil in me" and it needed to be beaten out of me. And being constantly told that there was something "wrong" with me. That I had "book sense but no common sense." Asking a question that a teacher couldn't answer meant I was "disruptive".
It seemed as though I could never do anything right. I dreaded going to church as a kid because my mom was always my Sunday School teacher so anything I did or said would result in punishment after church.
The school system believed in beating the bad out of you too. A paddling was the go-to means of discipline by teachers. I became accustomed to multiple paddlings a day by my teachers. And many times I would need to go to the principal's office for a stern lecture along with a paddling.
God forbid if a note was sent home or there was a Parent's Night" at the school. That would get a switching. Any behavior correction at home was via a switch. The switch was always cut by me. Always ended up cutting three, as per the Three Bears. First one was too small. Second one was too big. The third one was perfect--about a yard long, thin enough to be nice and limber, thick enough not to break at all. It was a fine art. They held you by the wrist or you had to grab their hand. It made you dance around and always stung and hurt like a motherfucker!
Worst one was in 9th Grade when a teacher felt it was necessary to call my parents over my behavior in his class. By this time my dad had lost most of his vision due to diabetes. There was a apple tree in the back yard that had a pulley & rope hanging from a limb. To keep me from running away and keep me in reach, my dad tied my hands together with the rope and held onto it. This resulted in my arms being pulled upward and kept me in one spot. This switching was horrible! It left bloody welts on my legs and back so bad that I couldn't dress out for gym for a couple of weeks. I was extremely embarrassed by the bloody welts. Subconsciously, I think I knew, deep down, that if any adults saw these marks, my parents would have gotten into trouble with the authorities.
Even in high school and university, I dreaded family gatherings. I was expected to participate even when it usually over-stimulated me. My personal space was never respected. My nephews would always go into my room and fuck with my stuff. If I ever said anything, it was as if I had ruined the world. The nephews knew if they cried, then I would get punished. It would result in my mom screaming in my face, many times with her slapping me broad-handedly across my cheek.
Bullying was the other kids' way of punishing you. Their way of letting you know that you must pay for being different from them. A societal beating because you didn't understand the correct way to interact with them. Same with the family, when siblings gathered, they bullied me almost continuously. It was as though they could only belittle and insult me about everything. Being around other families during various holidays made me understand that this behavior was not normal. It took me to hit my mid 40s to realize this and begin breaking away from them. And to think I would drive down from Michigan a couple of times a year. One thousand miles and fifteen hours on the road to spend a few days taking shit from them. It IS okay to avoid toxic people in your life, especially if it is family.
What is weird is going on some Facebook groups which seem to be heavily populated by Boomers from the area. By the 1970s, most Boomers never hit their children. But these same people all suffered systemic societal child abuse! Yet they will go onto Facebook groups and post memes glorifying this abuse. The comments sections will be full of them writing about the "switchings", paddlings, "whoopings", etc., that they received as children and state that by stopping this systemic child abuse, the world went to Hell in a handbasket. But if you ask them why they don't beat the shit out of their grandkids(as they were beaten), they bristle up and say they would never treat their adorable darlings that way. I ended up dropping out of quite a few of these groups due to this.
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