Skip to main content

The Cycle of Violence

"Child Abuse" By Shadrach Muyila

This isn't going to be a tirade against my father. This is just what I've seen and been through.

Child abuse begins the cycle of violence, I notice. The child has no idea what is happening or worse, why it's happening.

Soon, that child becomes hopelessly angry. At that age, chances are they have no idea what to call it. There's no word for it. It's just a feeling. It's a need to destroy. It's a need that can never be satisfied, and one that will be punished. Thus the cycle begins.

This is anger in the soul, and it stays with the victim for life. As they get older, they may find coping mechanisms, they learn to deal with it, but it never, ever goes away. One just learns to live with it.

When you're faced with violence you don't understand as a child, you have two choices; capitulate or FIGHT BACK. It's always baffled me how people are so amazed that the quiet kid that never talks suddenly goes on a killing spree. I don't condone the action, but I understand the motivation. Eventually, your ability to feel just dies off. That pain one lives with has to be inflicted upon the world, and then, once that's finally done, and the victim can sink no lower, the only thing left is to take their own life.

Let me say it again. It's never okay to shoot up something. But this type of action can be prevented.

But I digress.

Choosing to fight back is like throwing a lit match on gasoline. The anger has an outlet, and suddenly, one has a big problem. Violence is addictive, like any drug (why do you think action movies make so much money?). It has to be fed, and in ever increasing doses. Eventually, you stop asking why you do the things you do and just go with it.

I wanted to do something good with it. So I turned my anger against other people who perpetuated this cycle against others. I went too far on many occasions. I often couldn't stop myself. I used to tell myself that I could become a worse monster than the ones I was battling without sacrificing being a good person. I was wrong. By the time I realized that, it was nearly too late.

Only recently, and I mean within the last year or so, when I finally stopped using a smile to hide the anger, did I realize how one breaks the cycle, and it's the hardest thing in the world.

You have to put your hands down. You have to walk away. No matter what you hear, what happens, you have to quit fighting. Quit feeding the anger.

The anger never goes away, but it can be dealt with.

It can also be prevented altogether.

Treat your kids and significant others with the respect they deserve, please.

Thank you for reading.

Comments

Julia said…
I am so incredibly proud of you and the strides you have made in your life. This is going to help so many other angry young people that think there is NO place to turn or channel their anger! Great piece my friend!
Avery K. Tingle said…
Thank you, Julia. The whole reason why I started blogging was to keep people from making the same mistakes I did, and to give people who were going through similar stuff somewhere to go. I hope I'm reaching a few people.
Anonymous said…
You are! :-D
Avery K. Tingle said…
Glad I can be there, then. :-)
Anonymous said…
You are, more than you know!!

Keep up the good work.

I'm certain that you'll never give up tryin to make the world a better place. It's quite inspiring!

Popular posts from this blog

America: A True Story About Hatred and Unity

I wanted fast food tonight. That was all. I found myself at Burger King to pick up my wife's order. I was a few cars deep when I spotted the Confederate flag. I surreptitiously snapped a few photos. This was going to be a very different story. When I pull out of Burger King, it turns out there's more than one. In fact, there are four trucks, each flying variations of the flag. I have to go around the front of them to avoid an accident. They're parked right in the middle of the road. As I drive around them, each person in the vehicle makes it a point to ensure I see them. I do. They see me too. When I get to McDonald's (which is in the same lot), I learn that they're not taking debit cards at the moment. Terrific. I wanted chicken nuggets and instead, I get a run-in with the new Confederacy. So I make my way back to Burger King, again appearing in full view of the trucks. I place my order, get it, pay, and pull out. Then one of the

The Long Road Home

I will end you tonight. No, wait. That's not where the story starts. The story starts two and a half years before this, when Michelle (referred to as Michelle for legal reasons because SATAN was too heavily trademarked) reached out to me by Facebook. She mentioned that we played the same Facebook game and she wanted to say hi. I had never, in fact, even heard of the Facebook game. But I was freshly broken out of a relationship and she was pretty with a good body so I said "Hurr, okay." Conversation ensues. She tells me we came up in the same place. We did not come up in the same place. We spent one night in San Francisco talking. But I really wanted to sleep with her. So, "Hurr, okay." Fast forward a few months. I've left Missouri for the beautiful Pacific Northwest. I've settled into the ass end of Lynnwood, a suburb of Seattle. The apartment was so bad that the landlord wrote the mold on the wall off as "crayon coloring

Wave Rocketbook Reviewed

I love writing by hand, and I love notebooks. I'll often devote entire budgets to them and when Officemax has one of their twenty-five cent sales, I'll buy them out. I often draft by hand, finding that the scene comes together more purely when it flows from a pen rather than a keyboard. So when DailyDot advertised a durable new type of notebook that you could use over and over again for the cheap price of twenty-five (thirty after shipping) US Dollars? I'm down. The Wave Rocketbook is meant to be elegant in its design and simple in its execution. The instructions come on the bag itself, and only the pen and notebook are included. The pen feels like any other, so you have to be careful not to mix it into your collection or you will end up marking your notebook with the wrong pen (like I did). The ink is erasable, which is a bonus. A place to put the pen would've been nice, but it clips easily, if not securely, into the ringed binding. The paper is thick and