The Spanking Heard Around the World

I’m going to preface this by saying that I have the best mom and dad in the world. My dad has loved me like his own since I was five years old and has continued to be a very loving, attentive and generous dad.
That being said, let me begin my story: I was five, almost six when my mom and I moved in with my dad. The tiny town I grew up in is the closest thing to a 3rd world country you could get in Florida. The only difference is there are floors and electricity there. Prior to moving in with my dad I lived with my grandparents, uncle and my mom. Every corner of the home had love in it. If someone got tired of entertaining me, I’d flitter about to the next adult and spend time with them. I was an only child those first few years and I was an obedient child, so not much happened as far as discipline. The worst I’d get was a slap on the back of the hand, which let me tell you, still makes me cringe at the memory of the sting.
One day my dad was taking care of me. My mom was at work and I was hanging out in my top bunk of my bunk bed. Up until this point it had been my mom and I as a team. She was attentive and tender. We were each other’s little worlds. We’d go to the park, go for rides, get sweet-tea from the local drive-through and she’d walk around the neighborhood as I rode circles around her on my tricycle. This particular day my dad had come into the room and told me to do something. I laughed at him, instead of listening. He got upset with me and repeated himself. I laughed again. I remember thinking something on the lines of “give me a break dude. You are one guy in a long line of guys. You aren’t going to be here very long, so why should I listen to you?”  When I didn’t listen the second time to my dad, he turned me over and spanked the crap out of me.
I had never been spanked before. I wasn’t even ever really yelled at before. I remember having two thoughts “THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS TO ME IF I DON’T LISTEN? I’M NEVER NOT LISTENING AGAIN!” and my second thought was “you are SO gone buddy! You just whooped my mom’s greatest treasure! You’re so gone!”
Later that evening, when my mom got off of work and came to the door I ran to her and put on my most pitiful, pleading face and told her what my dad had done. But something happened. It had never happened before. She moved me away from her body, looked me in the eyes, and in an unfamiliar tone asked me, “what’d you do?”
My world as I knew it was over.
“What is this? ” I remember thinking. “What did I do? Don’t you mean how could this horrid man hurt your poor baby?!” My mom stood over me, resolute. I didn’t answer. My dad relayed the series of events which lead to my spanking and my mom nodded her head as if to say “well yeah! You deserved it then!”
And that was it.  That was the moment I realized my mom and I were no longer a duo. She was no longer on my team. Now she and this new man in our lives were a team and everything was decided together. I was obedient after that. I never received another spanking, but I’m sure I did things that deserved more slaps on the back of my hand. 
That spanking set the precedence for my growing into an adult woman who follows the rules. Who does what she’s told and what’s expected of her. Who follows, without question, authority and expectations set forth by society.
That spanking changed my life.
It lead to my marrying someone who is very authoritative and controlling. It ultimately lead to my losing myself. To constantly bending to the needs and demands of others and putting myself dead last. I was to obey or there’d be consequences.
It wasn’t until I was 40 and in therapy that I realized this was the singular event that kept me in this marriage. A part of me still believed I’d get into grave trouble if I didn’t listen. If I didn’t obey and do what I was told or do what was expected of me. Because of that spanking I bent and bent and bent until I was nearly broken. Finally, at the age of 40, having been in a very 1950’s marriage for nearly 15 years I decided to get a divorce. I was tired of being obedient and constantly being told what to do. My now ex-husband was very controlling and his expectations for what a wife should be were exhausting to live up to. I let him down constantly. It was a dance of his expectations, my letting him down, which lead to my constantly feeling like I was never good enough. Never worth much and always subconsciously waiting to get spanked if I did something wrong. Speaking my truth wasn’t allowed. I was to be quiet, not ruffle feathers or shake the boat. I was to be small. And I stayed that way, for a very, very long time.
I think too, this should serve as a lesson to blended families and the long-term affects of new parenting styles and forms of punishment. New parents should be mindful of how consequences are handed out to their new step-children, and do their best to honor the style of “punishments” the child’s birth parents have raised them with. 
Don’t get me wrong, I was a turd and deserved that spanking. I needed to be put in my place. I learned to respect my new dad quickly. I’m just saying, that was the singular event that sank into my soul and made me believe for the next 35 years that something horridly dire would happen if I wasn’t an obedient adult.
I’ve grown brave since getting a divorce. I’ve grown to learn that the world doesn’t end if I speak my truth or do what my soul pulls me to do. I’ve grown to listen to the pulls of my heart instead of worrying about what my partner will think or fear his ugly words if my idea was “stupid.” My writing, for example is something I’ve done since I’ve gotten brave enough to “do me.” No one tells me “I don’t think you should do that.” No one fills my time with endless house chores. My children and my heart fill up my time. I make things and I write and I live in a home where there is peace. We’re not walking on egg-shells and no one will get a horrid spanking for making human errors.
Now that I am free of the fear of “being spanked” everyone in my home benefits from the freedom to be all of who they are.