Rebellion is something that almost all teenagers go through at one point in their life. In retrospect, I can now see that the stricter my parents were with me, the more rebellious I was. As I became older and my parents became more lenient with my independence, I noticed that I was actually following their rules more willingly and closely.
During my sophomore year in high school, I highly disagreed with my parent’s parenting methods and considered running away many times. My parents were never the overly strict suffocating parents, but I had a few friends who had no rules at all and I envied them. Curfew was a main issue; my friends could stay out as late as they wanted, but I always had to take home the “cab-ride of shame” early on in the night. I wanted to run away for a few days to go live at my friend’s house, and we talked about it all the time like it was a legitimate plan. In the back of our minds, we knew I was not going anywhere. But the notion of it still excited us. That is about as close as I have ever gotten to running away.
Although I did not run away, I still rebelled in various other ways. Looking back on my actions now, I am shocked at how senseless some of the stuff I did was. In order to rebel against my early curfew, I would wait until my parents would fall asleep and then quietly sneak back out of my apartment. By the middle of my junior year, my parents actually gave me the freedom to come home whenever I pleased, and I started spending more time at home than out. Knowing I had the freedom to stay out late made it less exciting to stay out, and I would often end up coming home in time for my old curfew. Now, I laugh at my younger self and how ridiculous it is that I snuck out for what seems to be no reason at all. Another thing I would do, that I am even less proud of, is I would use a phone application that changes my caller id to make it say that I am back at a friend’s house. So I would go into a Barnes and Nobles, or some sort of quiet place, and I would phone my parents from in there and tell them that I’m back and staying in for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, I would only be on my way to starting my night. This sort of deceitfulness was all part of my “rebellious stage”, and I am glad to say that none of this occurs any longer. My parents have still yet to find out that I used to do these things, and I think that maybe one day I will build up the courage to tell them.
As for rebellious people in my life, my older sister, when she was a sophomore, was every bit as much of a rebel as I was. Many of the methods I used to rebel against my parents rules I actually picked up from her. In her case as well, though, my parents loosened up and my sister became less prone to want to break rules.
sashafierce 