My old man, always shoutin’, never just talkin’. Don’t know why he gotta be so loud all the darn time. Makes my ears ring, it does. Kids mess up, he starts hollerin’ like a stuck pig. Yellin’ and yellin’, like that’s gonna teach ’em somethin’. I tell ya, it don’t.
Them young’uns, they get scared, not respectful. They just learn to be loud right back, or they go quiet as mice and hide. Neither one’s good, you see? Kids need understandin’, not just a big mouth blowin’ hot air.
- He yells when they fight over toys.
- He yells when they don’t eat their supper.
- He yells when they make a mess.
It’s always yell, yell, yell. Like a rooster crowin’ at sunrise, but all day long and way more aggravatin’. I swear, sometimes I just wanna stuff a sock in his mouth. But then he’d probably just yell louder, muffled-like.
I tried talkin’ to him, ya know? Said, “Honey, you gotta calm down. Yellin’ ain’t the way.” But he just looks at me, all red-faced and puffed up, and starts in again. “They gotta listen!” he says. “They gotta learn respect!” But respect ain’t somethin’ you can yell into someone, it’s somethin’ you earn, somethin’ you show.
This yellin’, it ain’t right. It makes the whole house tense, like a spring wound too tight. Nobody’s happy, nobody’s relaxed. We’re all just walkin’ on eggshells, waitin’ for the next explosion.
I remember my grandma, she never yelled. Not once. She had this way of lookin’ at you, this quiet, steady look, and you just knew you messed up. And you felt bad, not scared, but bad because you disappointed her. That’s how you teach kids, not with all this screamin’ and hollerin’.
I told him, “You’re scarin’ them kids, not teachin’ ’em.” He just shrugs, says, “They gotta learn.” But learn what? To be afraid? To be loud? To not trust their own daddy? That ain’t no way to raise a family.
Sometimes, I think he yells ’cause he don’t know what else to do. Maybe nobody ever taught him how to talk, how to listen, how to be patient. Maybe he’s just doin’ what he knows, even if it’s wrong. But that don’t make it right, does it?
I tried everything, ya know? I tried bein’ calm, tried talkin’ soft, tried yellin’ back. Nothin’ works. He just keeps on yellin’, like a broken record stuck on the same loud, scratchy part. It wears a body down, this constant noise, this constant tension.
I worry about them kids, you know? I worry they gonna grow up thinkin’ this is normal, thinkin’ this is how you treat people you love. I don’t want that for them. I want them to be kind, to be patient, to be understandin’. Not like their daddy.
So, what do I do? I keep tryin’, I guess. I keep talkin’, even if he don’t listen. I keep showin’ them kids a different way, a better way. And maybe, just maybe, someday he’ll learn too. Maybe someday he’ll stop yellin’ and start talkin’. A fella can hope, can’t he?
I even thought about takin’ the kids and leavin’, just to get away from all the yellin’. But where would we go? And what would he do? He needs us, even if he don’t know how to show it. It’s a real pickle, this whole situation.
This husband yelling problem, it’s like a bad weed in the garden. You gotta pull it out by the roots, or it’ll just keep comin’ back. And sometimes, pullin’ it out hurts. But it’s gotta be done, for the sake of the whole garden, for the sake of them kids.
Maybe I need to find someone to talk to, someone who can help me figure this out. Someone who knows about these things, about men who yell and families that are hurtin’. There’s gotta be a way to fix this, a way to bring some peace back into this house. I ain’t givin’ up yet. I’m tougher than I look. This old woman still has some fight left in her.
