My story happened when I was a teenager, with all the angst and rebelliousness associated with that stage. I may have taken it further than most people, growing far apart from my parents. In the end, I asked my doting grandmother, who lived across the town, to take me in so I could live with her. It may not have been my idea; perhaps she subtly suggested it to me and made it seem like the proposal was my own. In any case, looking back, I realize that I did not think the idea through; most of my clothes and possessions stayed behind, and my mother would regularly come over to do the laundry. Regardless, I lived at my grandmother’s house for approximately a year, until the day that changed everything.
I do not remember what started it; the problem was probably inconsequential, and anything would have sufficed. The fact of the matter is, we started arguing, and the argument started escalating. Over the year, we had accumulated quite a lot of tension with her silly policies like eating liver for dinner every day. She said it was good for my health, but I was thoroughly sick of the stuff; I still dislike it. I, too, was not the best grandchild; indeed, there was merit in her accusations of selfishness, and I knew that at the time. However, I could not admit it; what was so bad about hoarding chocolates I bought with my own money for myself? It wasn’t as though my grandmother and grandfather liked the specific sweets I preferred, anyway; they always bought different ones.
Regardless, she persisted, and the argument grew more and more bitter on both sides. It hurt; people closest to you know how to target your weak spots, making arguments that hit home and causing the pain and frustration that I recognize from Brown (2016). However, I refused to admit that I was in the wrong; thus, the only remaining solution was to try and escape. But how did one avoid the person in whose house they lived, who they saw at every meal? So I decided to convey a sense of pointlessness to the discussion. It was the only time in my life where I felt the urge to bang my head on the wall, which I proceeded to do, only to be called a silly child. Regardless, she relented and left me alone, though I knew the matter was not over.
An hour later, my grandmother approached me and announced that I would no longer be living in her house. She made the announcement calmly, and I received it as coolly; I must have half-expected it and mentally prepared myself. My mother arrived shortly after to pick me up, I packed whatever meager possessions I had transferred to my grandmother’s house, and we drove home. My mother did not have anything to say about the affair; she was not on the best of terms with my grandmother, perhaps because she was from my father’s side. I would still visit back home on weekends, so there was little to discuss in terms of events that happened, too. Life returned to normal, as though nothing had ever happened, but all of my relationships had changed.
The first thing I noticed after returning home is that my parents no longer pressed me as hard as they had before I left. Perhaps they now understood that I could and would assert myself, so they could not push me around anymore? However, I then heard from my sister that after my initial departure, my mother cried. It all clicked in my head: what if I was the terrible person in this situation? After all, I managed to make all the people with whom I lived hate me; surely, I must have been a person that turns out to be terrible when you get to know them. What’s more, I remembered that my mother took care of my needs, such as laundry, while I was living at my grandmother’s house. While I was pretending to be independent, she cared about me and helped me maintain the fantasy rather than make me confront reality.
It was at that point that I realized that I had been in the wrong all that time. Yes, my parents may have pressed me too harshly; however, they had good intentions and scolded me for actual rather than imagined faults. As I had assumed, my decision to stay with my grandmother helped them understand our boundaries and switch to an effective negotiation strategy, as indicated by Sunderland (2017). However, it also taught me that there were substantial flaws in myself, and unless I addressed them, I would never be able to be close to anyone. I started listening to my parents more and arguing with them less, though I would still make my opinion clear and expect sufficient argumentation. My relationship with my grandmother suffered, but we are working on repairing it. In essence, by losing the fight with my grandmother, I understood my faults, learned humility and came closer to adulthood, which made me a winner in the end.
References
Brown, N. D. (2016). Ending the parent-teen control battle: Resolve the power struggle and build trust, responsibility, and respect. New Harbinger Publications.
Sunderland, M. (2017). Bothered: Helping teenagers talk about their feelings. Taylor & Francis.