If someone asks me in the future what my teenage years were like, I would probably say that most of it was spent getting to know every inch of my bedroom. I am twenty years old and still at the stage where I feel cooped up in the house. My father is a difficult person to talk to because he makes a big deal about everything. In short, he’s a whiner. At many points in my life, I have contemplated sneaking out of the house (which I have never done) or running away (which I will never do). I have my friends who bore and continue to bear my lack of attendance during times which they plan on getting together. I thank them for their enduring friendship despite only seeing them during class hours and the little breaks in between. This is not to say that I am never given a chance to go out and have fun outside my bedroom. Birthdays and occasional weekends (along with times when my father is in a good mood) are open for me to spend time with friends outside of school.
I wish I had more control of my schedule. For three years now my parents have been telling me that they will enroll me in a driving class or at least have my mom’s driver teach me how to drive. My mother automatically assumes that it is my fathers job to arrange these classes because she is busy with work. My father’s excuse is always “he does not know our schedules.” I would like the Internet to know that I did nothing last summer vacation except get to know my bedroom a little more and accumulate fat. I planned to take a volleyball summer camp but it never happened and apparently it is this prolonged indecisiveness that caused my father to assume that I was “busy” (with what, dad? I said I would not take it after I missed the first wave of applications). Therefore that summer was spent moaning about the amount of knowledge I have of my bedroom.
During long breaks during summer or in the middle of the semester, my mother would ask me “How was your day?” or “What did you do today?” and my answer would always be “Nothing. So much nothing.” Of course what she wanted was for me to answer her with the same question because as of late, we have not seen each other as frequently as before. I cannot bring myself to vary my response (because nothing IS what I do) or to reply with the same questions because (and I’m sorry but) I am not keen to know how her day at the office went. She recently gave my brother and I a talk about how she tries to be affectionate to us and made it seem (though it is quite true) that we turn away from her affection.
It might sound childish and selfish (and way unconnected) but how am I supposed to be affectionate when I know that no matter how much I do, it will never get me the freedom I want? This is not just one getaway trip thing after which everything will be fine. No. This is years in the making of feeling like a caged bird inside your own home. Whereas other people think the outside is harmful and dangerous, I feel like if I spend more time alone in my house (getting to know my bedroom, as it were) I’ll drive myself crazy and grow up a weird adult.
I do not understand why I hate confronting this stupid freedom problem with my parents. One of the reasons why is because of my father’s attitude that every time I ask him if I can go out with friends, it’s a “burden” to bring me there and fetch me after. I always have to know what day it will be, what time it will start, what time it will end, who am I going with, etc. like it’s a 3-unit subject. The problem becomes the whole process of arranging his schedule and my mother’s schedule and which car to bring etc. ALL BECAUSE “Nessa wants to go out with her friends.” His negative attitude towards arranging transportation whenever I want to go out is the reason why I hate asking in the first place. To the curious, I have brought up the idea of commuting to my parents before but my dad would rather labor over “finding a way to fit it in someone’s schedule” than to allow me to commute because it is “dangerous.” (But of course they can rest easy with sending me and a cousin of the same age on a plane to Singapore and commuting there without parental supervision)
I can only speak for myself (and for some part, my brother) but I can say that my parents NEED friends. I never see them go out and have fun with friends except during school reunions (even then my father says he’ll only stay for two hours). I never hear my father talk about anything except work and school gossip from co-faculty. My mother is more outgoing but only by a little because she works even on Saturdays. I hate having to deal with my parents stressing out over something as trivial as “who’s going to bring Nessa to the mall” because they are busy with work and getting older. I guess it is my fault for not having enough balls to confront them but it is so hard to deal with people who are always so negative about it, who seems to treat it like its such a heavy burden imposed upon them by their daughter.
I have such deep-rooted first world problems.