ᏗᏝᏬፈᏗᏒᎴ

Decenter Your Fucking Parents

I will be forward. I was not the first or even fifteenth person to have this idea. Nevertheless, it is an important step forward. As of recent, this idea has been shown to be more and more necessary for moving forward. Alas, I could never find the words to voice it.

Growing up, we view our parents as gods. We view them as the center of the universe. Just about everyone who is an adult remembers the classic struggle of the dreaded teenager. The adults we knew would bitch and cry about how difficult we were. “Stop undoing your hair.” “Change into something else.” “You shouldn’t be reading that.” “No, you are staying here and watching your little brother.” “No, I don’t like your friends, so you can’t go see them after school.” Our attempts to become individuals were met with “why do you have to be so difficult???” and reminder after reminder of everything they have done for us. We were old enough for adult responsibilities, but not old enough for adult freedoms. It only got worse, with the fate of the eldest daughter or the unwanted daughter. Forced to be a parent or left to raise yourself.

Some of us believe our parents have our best interests in mind. Some of us know they damn well do not. Without a proper middle ground of more autonomy, important knowledge, and secure guardrails, we find ourselves unadjusted to being individuals. Hesitant to go after what we desire, terrified of doing something to trigger one of those infinite fusses from a very vocal mother, unwilling to engage in anything that may bring back the Imposter Syndrome that may have began as you watched others seemingly grow up properly. You look in the mirror and still see a nervous wreck of a girl in her teens, or perhaps a stone-cold apathetic girl of the same age.

I cannot give a straight answer on how to go about this, as it may be different for everyone. Hell, should I have a general answer, I shall edit this post. But again, such is clear. Find a way to decenter your parents and center yourself. Find a way to be the adult that teenager you remember really needed. Moving forward is not without torment. I used to hope my own mother would love me for once, and I wasted many years attempting to be lovable. But only I have room in my heart for that girl. I hope you all figure it out.

I wrote this so fucking late at night. That can of Monster is calling for my fangs. Christ.