My father had this capacity for quite extreme rage which didn’t fit with the rest of him as a withdrawn, secretive, sneaky person. It was fairly consuming when it came out. And hard to get away from, though if it didn’t involve you then you knew to disappear until things had settled. On a holiday one time with the family, staying in a caravan park, I was taking too long in the showers. My sister came in to tell me to get out and that dad was angry because of all the water I was using. I knew I had been a long time and I knew that this was serious. I was dreading what was going to happen, not wanting to go back. I just waited in the shower block. My sister came back again. I went back with her. He was so angry that I had used so much water in front of other people. Grabbing me by the arm and shaking me and yelling in my face and hitting me on the legs with his belt, still holding me and I’m trying to get away and back away. I’m screaming and putting my hands down to try to stop the belt hitting me but of course it’s then just getting my arms and hands. He eventually stops and I have to stay in the caravan while they have dinner. My brother and sister weren’t allowed to talk to me. We left the next day because of what I had done and how I had embarrassed my parents.

He loved the belt. Of course we hated the belt. If we knew we were in trouble for something, it was a waiting game to see if it was going to be a belt punishment. He didn’t really hit with anything else, his hands but usually it was the belt. And being told to go to your room and wait, knowing that meant the belt was coming. Him coming in and telling you to pull your pants down and lie on the bed. And then lying there hating that you can’t do anything and you have no pants on and not allowed to move your arms. The stinging and pain is so big and trying not to make a noise or cry but usually did anyway. And if he thought whatever you had done was really bad he would say this deserved the other end and used the buckle end. We often “asked for this” . Not sure how walking through the creek with school shoes on was asking to get hit with a belt buckle. The buckle was so painful and sometimes would bruise. Feeling it at school sitting on the chairs, thinking the teacher somehow knew and not wanting them to know. And it was always done in private, with the door closed, even if my brother was also going to get it, he would get it in his room and me in my room.