That was my earliest maladaptive coping mechanism I forged when I was a kid. I found that my fists weren't going to do any significant protective work for me, so my mouth was it. Making my father laugh was a way to control him.
Even if my father wasn't speaking to me, he would never, ever miss a baseball game.
I feared disappointing my father more than anything in the world.
My father was a police officer before he retired. One of my brothers is also a police officer, and I think they kind of expected I would do something along those lines, like become a fireman or something.
I've always relied on discipline to achieve goals great and small. At a young age, my father instilled a real work ethic in me - and a fear of men. I always felt like if I didn't have a natural knack for something, I could kind of out-discipline the competition as it were. So I would always work as hard as I possibly could, sometimes to my own detriment and my personal life. For me, I think will power and discipline are very synonymous.
I learned discipline from my father. Not in terms of corporal punishment, but being determined in whatever you do, and sticking with it.
My father was swallowed alive by his own anus. It was a terrible way to go.
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