growing up

I have always been rebellious. It's in my nature. Growing up, I did not have a bad childhood. I didn't have parents that divorced or hated me. I had a big brother that was mean to me sometimes, but usually we played outside together. I read a lot. But I wanted everything.

I have an insatiable thirst for this vague notion of 'everything'. I don't know what it is half the time, but I want it. I hate being held under restrictions, being told what to do. The past five years I've had a terrible relationship with my parents, and looking back it's probably entirely my fault. I was always wanting, always searching, and I didn't give a fuck about rules. My entire life, even just the knowledge of there being a rule or restriction directing me in one way made me automatically go the other. Its just how I am.

I was the kid who was waiting til her parents fell asleep and launching myself over the back fence. I was always testing and stretching the limits, putting strain on my relationship with my parents but simultaneously building my own confidence, independence, and self reliance.

I cant say that I got tamer as I got older, but I was older so my parents were unable to restrict me much even if they had wanted to, though by this point I'm sure they're just exhausted of me. My senior year of high school was wrought with horrible situations between me and my mother, including getting locked out of my house, getting kicked out, or just kicking myself out for days at a time. All of these were induced by my own selfish behaviors, and I like to think one day we'll all look back and laugh...maybe. “Hey mom, remember when I sneaked out the night before Easter and didn't come back for four days and wouldn't tell you where I was no matter how many times you called me? LOL.”

Anyway, growing up I also commonly associated with friends who were older than I by several years. By the time I was sixteen or seventeen, it seemed like everyone was getting tattoos. My best friend Amanda now has about 7 or 8. I was very envious of this.

My brother got a tattoo for his 17^th birthday gift, and my parents wouldn't even let me get my nose pierced! So, naturally, I did it behind their back.

I went to Myrtle Beach the summer before my senior year with a good friend of mine and her family. Every night we would walk the 'strip', which had a ton of tourist-y stores and food and all of that. I went out one night with the firm intent that I was getting my nose pierced, No Matter What, even if I was only seventeen and lacked parental consent. And there they were, the 'BODY PIERCINGS' signs hanging in almost every shop window. I stopped at one, when a foreign man screamed shrilly at me “YOU WANT BODY PIERCING?!”

My friend stopped too, looking at me. I pointed at my nose. Thrilled, the man clapped his hands and dragged me into the store. Five minutes later, I had a cheap earring stuck through my nose, and the fact that Borat had just pierced my nose elated me. That was the beginning of the physical manifestation of my rebellion.

The next summer, came the belly button. While I was eighteen, it was less of a rebellion and more of a “I dare you to pierce your belly-button” “OKAY!” situation, but still. Then, later that summer, my first tattoo. My parents still haven't seen it, so until they do, I like to think of this as my last stand, the final fuck you to the constrictions of my childhood, and my first step into adulthood.

And here I am now, in college. I'm on my own, doing everything for myself, and my parents and I get along better now (figures there had to be an hour between us for that to happen). A lot has changed in a short period of time, things I thought would always exist. I wonder now if a lot of my problems really even existed, or if I, like most, was just another teenager who resented her parents for doing nothing but be parents. Two days ago, I was back in a familiar place. The chair of a piercer. As the needle slid through my lip, and Amanda with all of her tattoos grinned at me encouragingly, I reflected. Two years ago, this would have been more than just a facial decoration. While I imagine my parents' reaction when I go home won't be that of ultimate joy (“Another hole in your body?!”), it's true that now I am calling the shots and at the end of every day I am responsible for the consequences of each and every action. There is no more rebellion or working to impress someone.

There is only me, and that is so satisfying.