My father was swallowed alive by his own anus. It was a terrible way to go.
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.
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