Wild Child

Ya know what? Credit where credit’s due.

I gotta hand it to my parents.

I did not make it easy for them. I’ve been a wild child my entire life.

I was always breaking the rules or caught up in some random issue.

I wouldn’t sit still in timeout, so I was belted to the chair. Then I figured out how to tilt it forward so I could walk around anyway. I was kicking down doors, destroying rooms, always in some conflict at school. Staying past curfew. Lying. Sneaking around with guys. Running away from home. Getting suspended. Problems with bullies at school. Unstable relationships. Trying to kill myself. Couldn’t save money to save my life. Couldn’t stand on my own two feet. Reckless. Impulsive. Irresponsible. Undeserving. Shameful. Ungrateful.

If I was told I could have two, I’d take four. If bedtime was 11:00, I’d find a way to stay up till 11:30. Couldn’t go out? Fine, I’d sneak out. No privacy? I’d find new and creative ways to get around the boundaries.

Like, holy shit—imagine trying to parent someone like that.

Why didn’t they see that how they were disciplining was not working? What’s the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

And then, of course, it begs the question: why on earth did I feel like I had to push so hard? Who wants to constantly be grounded, constantly lose privileges, constantly sit through another lecture because they messed up again? What kid wants that?

I knew what was expected of me. I had a script to follow. But I also developed a sense of justice very early. I constantly questioned my parents to explain their rules, but it was always the classic parenting cop-out: Because I said so. Because I’m the parent and you’re the kid.

Can you imagine telling someone like me those same canned phrases over and over? Life is a tragedy.

Understanding. I seek understanding in all that I do. If I can understand why you believe what you believe, or why something exists, then fine—got it. But I never got explanations for why the rules needed to be enforced. And of course, the rules had to be enforced because I just kept getting into trouble. So I deemed most of them unjust. And if I thought they were unjust, or if you weren’t playing fair, I didn’t follow them—nor did I feel remorse for breaking them.

And that sums up my life, really.