I didn’t like the situation I was in; I was very scared. I let things with my friends spiral out of control and now I’m paying for it. My mom’s relationship with me was already strained. Me and her butt heads like no tomorrow, we fight over everything, so I was fully prepared to die by the hands of her tonight. I sit and stare blankly at my parents; I can feel the intensity in the air. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done to them they thought. I watch my mom take a sharp inhale as she prepared to scold me.
I was surprised when the words “I’m sorry” left her mouth.
Worried and maybe slightly concerned for my own safety I let the word “what?” fly out. She looked at me with disappointment and repeated those powerful two words, “I’m sorry.”
I looked in disbelief and my mom turned to my father and asked him to leave us alone, he turned and walked away slowly. I had never felt so disheartened by someone walking away. My mom allowed a few tears to roll down her cheek.
My mother took my hand and began to speak, “I’m sorry that I have failed you as a parent.”
I became even more disheartened. Thoughts flooded my mind. Why does she blame herself? How do I explain to her it was my mistake? How do I show her she hasn’t failed? These questions began to fill up my head along with hundreds more.
My mother could see I was utterly tormented by her statement and she took the opportunity to explain her choice of word. “I don’t blame you for what happened, I blame myself.” She paused, “a mother should know where her daughter is and what she’s doing at all times.”
I stop her. “Mom, that isn’t healthy. I am 18. The only person to blame for this is me. I made a conscious decision I knew had risky consequences, but I still took the risk because that’s what teenagers do. We fuck up but we find a way to fix it.”
I think back to the night before. Flashbacks of drugs, alcohol, and teenage pheromones fill my head. I don’t even remember how I got here. I just came home, and all of the sudden police were here. I do remember why the police came, the dark memories of the night before making me ashamed.
I saw a slight chuckle escape her lips as she looked at me and began to say, “You’re not an adult, you still live at home, you’re my responsibility till you can afford to be your own.”
I couldn’t argue with her because it was sadly true. Her and my father were funding my whole life, even my college was coming out of their pocket. We sat in silence, I believe it was a time for both of us to come to terms with the situation and form thought out sentences to better explain our feelings. I eventually chose to speak and just let the words flow from my mouth with no filter.
“Mom, I’m sorry I’ve betrayed your trust again. I am a teenager who feels she has no freedom though. Rebellion was bound to show its face at some point. You can’t shelter your child from everything you don’t agree with, that’s not how you raise a person.”
She looked at me, almost astonished to think I could say something so accusatory when this whole situation was my fault.
She spoke, “I didn’t feel like I was sheltering you, I felt like I was protecting you from all the illegal and bad things the world comes with.”
I rebuttaled, “But do you not see how wrong that is? I am getting too old for you to think you can make my decisions for me. You practically chose where I went to school, how I spent my free time, hell, you even chose the people I was allowed to be friends with. I know you have my best interest at heart but maybe my best interest isn’t what you think it should be.”
I do understand her point of view, but I can’t concede. I know I am the one in the wrong here, I watched my friend break into houses and cars while off several drugs. This wasn’t some teenage mistake, people were doing very dangerous and very illegal things, but yet I would never let my mom know she’s right. I let her speak.
My mom took several deep breaths before talking again, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m controlling you, but I also don’t want you to make the same mistakes as me. Partying every night, not having the right friends, making bad decisions, I just don’t want you to ruin any opportunities for one night of fun like I did.”
At this point neither of us wanted to concede to the other side so we decided to leave the conversation with one agreement, that we will both try to be better. I left to my room a little more encouraged from the end of the conversation than when we started. I guess that’s the point of talking things out.
New thoughts began to arise when I was alone. How could I let things spiral out of control? How did I let the police expose everything I’ve done to my parents before I had the chance? How was I so blinded by a so-called friendship to not see how terrible it was making my life? All questions that will never be answered, for no person could ever predict the future. No person could ever say for sure the negative consequences they face. I sit in my room alone as these thoughts invade my mind. I begin to write and write for what feels like hours. I write every thought that flies by my head and then I reflect back on my decisions. I played a very dangerous game, I gambled my family and my future for some late-night fun, and I lost. I wouldn’t say entirely a loss though, because in the end this event that caused so much distress to not only me but my entire family, showed me all the inconsistencies and flaws my friends gave me. They were never reliable, and they almost always thought about themselves. I take a look in the mirror and feel as if I see a stranger in the reflection. In that moment I decided that I would no longer be a victim and that I would make better choices for myself. I touch the cold mirror and mouth the phrase, “you are resilient and strong” as I stare directly at myself, I begin to recognize her again.