Growing up, we make a lot of mistakes. Heck, I think I've made more now that I'm out of the house than when I was still just a kid in it. My parents were behind the majority of the reprimands, time-outs, yelling; all trying to change and shape me into a better person. But quite honestly, I don't think it was done very well. Not to say I'm not a better person because of if, but I'm saying there were more effective ways to punish children than to yell at or ground them. I know because the one time my dad didn't do that is the time that I decided to actually change my behavior.
I won't tell you what I did, because it's quite embarrassing, but let's say it was an extremely important rule in our house: and I broke it. I didn't think he was going to find out, as usual, but he did, as sometimes. When he did, there was no storm. No thunder, no lightning, no flood of yelling streaming into curses towards me and my disobedience.
There was silence.
We sat like that for over ten minutes. Me dying for him to yell and get angry, but him just sitting there on the verge of tears, extremely disappointed. That silent and emotional disappointment was so much more powerful than the anger. The anger I could get angry at; I could get huffy and yell it wasn't fair, or that he didn't understand, etc. etc. etc. But in the silence I could see how much he cared about me, and that's why those rules were in place. In the silence I vowed to never break that rule again, and to try to be better about following his counsel and rules in the future. From then on was I perfect? No where near. But I can say that from then on my dad and I had a much closer relationship, full of respect, that we still carry on today.
In this case, it was a lack of words that spoke the most.
It is interesting how a lack of words can speak so loudly. My mother was notoriously good at making us do things because we felt guilty. Silence was one of her many tools.
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