Not All Parents Deserve Respect

When I was younger, my siblings and I went to church every Sunday. Every once in a while, the pastor would talk about the first three verses in chapter six of the book of Ephesians, and every time I heard it, I would roll my eyes. “Children obey your parents… Honor your father and mother… so that you will live a long life…” Conveniently, the lecture would end there. Never had I heard the fourth verse read or preached about. “Parents, do not provoke your children to anger… nourish them”.

The fourth verse was my favorite throughout my childhood, and I loved it more as I grew into adulthood. I wasn’t nourished as the good book had stated. I didn't know what it was like to feel genuine care and love growing up in my mother’s house. I started to ask the question, “What if the parents did not deserve the honor? What if they constantly provoke their children to wrath?”

I grew up in a household where my mother and step-father ruled with the fist. Any perceived disrespect earned a barrage of closed fists aimed anywhere that wasn’t protected. I learned quickly how to walk on eggshells and how to only speak when necessary. As I grew up and became more independent, my mother would remind me that I was the child and she was the mother. She would attack my looks and my intellectual abilities. She stole from me and blamed it on my siblings. If I looked in her direction for too long, it was viewed as a challenge to fight.

One night, darkness rose up inside her that I had never witnessed before. She was tired of me, so she took all of my belongings and threw them outside. It was a chilly October evening and the wind was blowing. I remember that through stinging tears, I watched my homework scatter in the wind while I frantically tried to catch each sheet of paper before they were ruined. I had been doing my homework, but just seeing me focused and so set on maintaining my good grades made her furious. That night, she told me to leave and never to come back. I went to live with my paternal grandmother and in the weeks to follow we tried to figure out what had caused my mother to do what she did. How could she treat her firstborn that way?

Her intent to maintain control of me, even though I no longer lived with her, led me to move away as soon as I could sustain myself financially. I moved to the other side of the country, but the aching guilt I felt almost took me back to her. She was my mother. How could I just leave?

I also felt guilty because I had left my siblings behind and they were still under the abusive control of my mom and step-father. I could not care for them and myself, too. I had to push past the guilt and make my own way.

A year later, I went home to visit and quickly realized that my time away had changed nothing. The insults that were thrown my way cut me deep to my core. In their minds, I thought that I was better than everyone because I had achieved what they didn’t. I had a career that I loved, I had friends that I loved and who loved me back, and I wasn’t leaning on my family for support. I took all of the negativity that was poured into me and used it as motivation to be who they tried to beat and bully out of me.

After living on the other side of the country for 6 years, I returned home with a renewed spirit and a new title. I had become a mother while I was away. From the time that I heard the rapid heartbeat of the little life inside me in the doctor’s office, I knew that I would love and nourish my child. My time away from my family had allowed me to become exactly who I wanted to be with the confidence to face my mother and step-father.

I established a home and new career for myself and thought that maybe my time away had shown them that I was an adult to be taken seriously. I was wrong. The bullying continued, although the physical abuse did not because I was no longer afraid to call the authorities. I asked myself what was the reason for me to continue to accept this type of treatment from my family. I wouldn’t have accepted it from anyone else.

I thought back to those times during my childhood when I would tell other family members or trusted adults about the verbal and physical abuse. The response was always along the lines of “because the person abusing me was family, I had to love and accept them anyway”. Because of that idea being repeated to me by society and people around me, I held on to that.

Presently, that idea has completely been rejected by my consciousness and I’ll be damned if I teach that nonsense to my child.

Telling a child that they must respect and honor their parents regardless of how they are being treated leads to children learning to accept toxic behavior as normal. This can lead to depression, low self-esteem, and risky behavior.

Some parents are abusive, narcissistic, and just plain evil. They abuse their children under the guise of teaching them to respect authority and will bully the child into accepting that there is nothing that they can do about it.

"I'm big. You're little. I'm right. You're wrong. And there’s nothing you can do about it."

- Harry Wormwood from the film, Matilda

Harry Wormwood’s words are similar to what children abused by their parents are taught to believe.

I am here to tell you that NOT ALL PARENTS DESERVE HONOR AND RESPECT!

If they did not do anything worth respecting while raising you and they continue to abuse you, they do not deserve you. Staying around because they have guilted you into putting up with their vile behavior is not healthy for you mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. If they are putting their hands on you, it's not good for you physically.

Just because they are related to you does not give them a free pass to treat you horribly. You do not have to accept their toxic behavior. Take some time away from them, heal, figure out who you are without them and their influence, and honor the most important person in the whole scenario. YOURSELF.