Rebellion

Here I am . Another day. Another night. Another missed opportunity of a day gone by. No regrets, but drowning in disappointment. I was a good kid, a nice kid, quiet, thoughtful, respectful. I pulled straight A's my senior year of high school, had a job, never snuck out, never drank or "tested the waters." But the minute my parents expressed to me that I should BE MORE, I rebelled. They had no idea what all the other kids were doing. They had no idea how thankful they should be. No idea that up until then I lived to PLEASE them. No idea that any insecurities I had before were now dangerously doubled.

If you forget the past, or pretend it's not there and never happened, what good does that do you? Maybe momentary 'safety.' Maybe. But when it's a parent(s) who does not acknowledge... that's not the right word... but I don't have another one...a parent who knows the evils that have been done to their child, the things a child should never face...and yet goes merrily along hoping perhaps the child was too young to remember... that it would all be forgotten. The child knows. Consciously or subconsciously that child knows. I know. And growing up I tried to please my parents and keep them happy, remain in their good graces, hoping against all hope that THIS would mean I would be worthy of protecting.

And as I grew up and the memories became more vivid, and the anxiety increased, so did my devotion to my parents. I knew they loved me. That was not the problem. I just needed them to validate silently that they KNEW what had happened, how many times, and that they cared. I didn't need them to talk about it. I just needed to know that I was not alone. Come then end of high school and there's no pleasing the parents even with perfect grades and being a 'good kid.' It was not enough. Why the fuck even bother to try? If I wasn't good enough for them when I was being good and attentive, then screw this!!!! I'm going to go rebel. I'm going to go out there into the world and EARN back what was taken from me. Because now it was on MY terms. Even if I thought I was getting them back, I was only hurting myself.

What is it about rebellion that intrigues me so? Not meanness or hatred. Not the anger or pain. It's more of the feeling of having justice served. Not taking it as it comes, but reversing the outcome of the assumed.

In the end, I've shown nothing but my own weakness. Gained depression, more anxiety, and disorders.

All in exchange for losing my identity.