I still remember being 8 years old, sick as fuck, fetal position on the floor, having just thrown up all over the floor. Sobbing and in pain.
My father smashing things and shouting how he has to clean up my mess. Just on and on, ranting and yelling and leaving me there when he was done.
I wish it was the only time my father was an asshole. I also wish it was my earliest memory of such incidents. My very first clear memory of anything at all was my dad pushing my face in the dirt because I said I didn't want to go with him somewhere. I was three. I still taste the grit in my mouth, it was the first time I got dirt in my mouth that I could remember. It remains vivid and clear 4 and a half decades later.
I started hiding it when I was sick. I would go outside and throw up and bury it as young as ten. I became non-verbal for a time.
Parents out there: Your kids never forget. That one time that you have a "bad day" and snap? They remember it. That time they did something stupid because they're small and you had clean up another mess? They already feel bad, and they will never forget how you treated them when they're already in pain. You don't "deserve" anything from your kids, you brought them into the world without their consent and your obligation to at least, if nothing else, take care of them and reduce the trauma of existing.