Day 696 - Discipline

Throughout my life I have had mixed emotions in relationship to the word "Discipline."


Discipline started out as something to be feared. My parents were the Administrators of Discipline. As far as I understood....Discipline was only something terrible as a form of punishment that I would associate as being like a kind of torture that would be done unto me in some capacity as a result of my "misbehavior" according to the Administrators of Discipline....aka....my parents.


So, Discipline and I did not get a long. I did not like Discipline. As far as I was concerned, Discipline could go fuck itself and die...for I would have been satisfied with no more dispensing of Discipline from the Administrators of Discipline...aka...my parents.


Note, for the record here....No blame is being pointed at the Administrators of Discipline Here...this is a Story about my Relationship with Discipline. The Word...


So, not until I became wayyyyyyyyyyyyy older than my first receiving of Discipline as an apparent method of Torture employed by my parents...aka...my Authorities...

Now in all fairness, I do not recall my Authorities....I mean my parents ever once mentioning that they were Disciplining me as a method of Torture. No, the informed me that I was receiving Discipline as a form of Punishment as a method to instill in me regard/respect for the behavior/actions that was required and to be expected of me from my parents....

What's interesting is that Discipline often arose as a result of my unexpected behavior and was seen as a method of remediating behavior that my parents did not like...that was not appropriate in and as their judgement. Granted....perhaps some of my behavior was outlandish...

So Discipline had become quite the resistance movement within me....to the point where my mobility was in rebellion to my parents in and as Defense of Discipline...meaning, my relationship with my parents developed to a point of no regard....no regard from the perspective that I stopped listening to them. Sort of. I would hear what they would say....and I would deliberately side with the point that they were in opposition towards. Meaning if they thought some idea was particularly good....it was therefore bad to me. 

What is fascinating about the playout of my reactionary defensive conflicted relationship with my parents is that I wasn't really consciously aware of how I was existing in a perpetual state of reaction in relationship to the existence of my parents.



To Be Continued