Gin Blossoming

It was a late Spring night, I remember that clearly, because my car windows were rolled down and the smell of rain-slicked grass and fragile, wind-soaked tree leaves permeated the car.  The Gin Blossoms were playing in my tape deck, Hey Jealousy, a song that will always remind me of him. I was seventeen and I'd fallen completely and stunningly in love for the first time in my life.

He was a charming bartender, I was the lucky bus girl, as I drove home the clock said 3:02 AM my stirrup-ed pant legs still shook with the disbelief of the potency of new touch, emotion, elation.  I remember I was still wearing my Moxie's uniform shirt, rumpled over my belt loops, stained slightly with ketchup and beer and smelling of him.  My lips hurt with the remembrance of stubble and the rust of unbridled passion that only happens in the brand-new days of exploring.

We'd finished our shift early, snuck back to his parents house while they slept and had muffled sex on the couch to the blue light of the TV,  sneaking gulps of cheap white wine between bouts of ecstasy.  I did not think this was unusual.

I was nervous about entering the house.  At almost 17, I still lived at home and adhered to most of my parent's rigid rules about coming home late, especially after I'd been with That Boy Who Is Too Old For Me.

I knew something was wrong the minute I silently opened the side garage door to sneak in and silently pad to my basement dwelling.

My Dad sat on the steps in the garage, a cigarette in his mouth and one behind his ear.  He wore his faded robe: once white, now grey, with red stripes.  He looked at me and did not say anything and I wasn't sure whether to get back to the car or bolt for my bedroom.

Mom was downstairs, with the contents of four of my drawers sprawled out in front of her.  Diaries, five years worth, opened to various places and splayed with tears.  A couple of bars of soap I'd had inexplicably stashed in my second drawer (a gift from Aunt Myrtle?), strangely now cut up into pieces.  My birth control pills, the ones I'd been hiding because I could never admit to my stringently old-fashioned parents that I'd been having sex.

My Mom was tearstained.

"Have you been doing drugs?"

I must have been a sight: rumpled yellow shirt, mascara-smeared eyes, sex soaked hands. 

"Mom,"I said honestly,"I've never done drugs in my life."

My Dad came down then, and what ensued weaved the fabric for one of the worst night's of my life.  My Dad told me to get out of the house, my Mom said she's too young, my Dad said, it's her or me. 

"Mom!" I pleaded,"I'm in love with him, that's all!"

She looked down and shook her head and I no longer had a home.

I lived with Carrie for a bit, then at Dave's, then worked several jobs and got my first apartment.  At the time, I thought I was a great disappointment to my family, a shame, a curse.  In retrospect, I was a normal teenaged girl, in love with her first boyfriend. A girl who'd broken curfew, and probably should have been punished, but did not deserve soap-cutting (they thought it was cocaine), diary rifling, and eventual eviction.

All parents make mistakes, me more than anyone, and I understand that my parents were doing what they thought was right to protect me.  But the infliction of their views on me and not accepting any alternatives has meant a lifelong of hiding from them.  Answering machine messages that beeped "Hi, it's KD," when it was actually KD and Jae.  Hiding of birth control pills, well into my twenties.  Hiding, tip-toeing, sneaking, when I should be OK with letting it all hang out: with being the flawed person that I am.

These memories flooded back today, and caused me to stand firm, for the first time, maybe, in my life.

"Mom," I wrote," I need to be strong in my decisions and in my faith that I am doing what is best for N.  I respect your need to disagree, but I am 32 years old and I need to trust myself."

I feel like I reached adulthood today, at 32.9 years old.

Comments

[Thursday]

You're younger than I was before I stood firm against my mother.

[Emily]

I am outstandingly proud for you. Of you. Both of those.

[Cheri]

Wow. You have no idea how much I related to this entire post. I'm 34 and still have never really done this. My best friend does NOT subscribe to this methodology and is constantly saying to me "Um, you DO realize you're all grown up now right?"

I think I take baby steps week by week but have never just outright said "Hey, 34 years old, I'll live my own life, thanks."

Good for you.

[sweetsalty kate]

Good for you. Very good.

[AmK]

Chica- you are amazing. Know that. If it has to be three hundred people on the internet telling you over and over and over again, practically hitting you upside the head with your unusual exceptionality, so be it. I'm on for the long haul and will tell you time and again how bright your star is.

P.S. Random unrelated side note: I think we might have been born on the very same day.

[Miellyn]

wow..
If they took such a stand when you where seventeen, I understand much better where they come from now.
You are so very right to make a stand and be who you are, not who other people want you to be. However wellmeaning they are.
Well done!
Miellyn

[Lauren]

How completely and totally awesome for you. I hope you realize how much hope and strength you give to people like me. I see you and realize that if you can go through what you are going through with such determination and poise and still remain such an amazing mother and human being, then I can most certainly make it through my own mess. Thank you and you rock.

[Meg]

PERFECT RESPONSE!

[jason]

I was in my first apartment at 17 as well - for similar, but more severe reasons. My relationship with my mother evolved quite quickly into equality, but my father, with his scotch soaked stocism and what the fuck wince was tougher to stand up against. That only happened about 5 years ago, when I was exactly 33 years old.

You are amazing.

J.

[mamatulip]

Good for you, K.

[BaltimoreGal]

Wow- my parents were never that hard on me and yet I just had to make that stand (at 34) over-

-wait for it-

getting a dog.

It's a hard thing, isn't it- telling your parents that you're an adult free of their control? Especially if you thought you already were? Good for you!

[Anna]

Wow, I get the history much more know. It's such a hard thing, taking a stand as an adult. Good for you.

[stephanie brown]

Very proud of you Kristen, really. I know that was probably a very tough decision to make but it took guts and a healthy amount of self confidence. I'm so glad you believe in yourself enough, and in your role as Nolan's mom.

[Miz Robyn]

Good for you.

[the goddess anna]

Heck, I'm married with 3 kids and I can't stand up to my mother like that. There's something I need to resolve with her, and you've given me something to think about now.

Good on you, though.

[Karen]

Good for you! I'm a 45 year old grandmother and I don't spend nearly enough time with my parents because of their constant disapproval.

[Tressa]

I had a similar run-in with my mother as a young teenager when I discovered her reading my journals. That experience caused me to stop writing, and I only recently have been able to start again- over 20 years later.

After reading this post, I am making a vow to myself not to violate the privacy of my own children. Your parents probably felt justified in ransacking your room because they were worried about you, but there are more respectful ways, right?

Hold your head high, and know that you are doing the right thing for Nolan by asserting yourself.

[leigh]

Yay! Yay! I am so happy for you. Not only are you growing up, you are doing things differently than they did. You are putting your son's needs before your own. Yay!

[Jen]

I was 16. My mother had just died from breast cancer. My three older siblings were already out of the house. My father had retreated into alcoholism. I asked him to leave, because I couldn't take care of both of us, and he did. The next ten years were emotionally wrenching between us. A few years ago, I drew the line, told him he was not allowed in my emotional life anymore, that I was keeping it to news, weather and sports from then on, if he couldn't be more respectful of my decisions and judgment. He was stunned, then humiliated.

Some parents seem to think their judgments can be rip-roaringly harsh, and their child should stand for it, even though they've taught their child to treat others with respect, and expect the same in return. It's an intricate process, these parental dealings. So complex. I think this is when the subtle shift begins where we become the parental figures, and they become the ones who require guidance.

Stand firm. I am so proud of you. It gets easier the stronger your backbone gets, I promise.

[Mary O]

Good for you. That is wonderful and I'm sure they will respect you more for it.
P.S. My heart goes out to that young girl evicted from her parents house too soon. What a fighter you are.

[Christina]

Ugh, that is SO hard. I know. (wiping tears away...) Good job.

[Allison]

Wow. You are amazing. I need to be able to tell my mother the exact same thing, but I just can't bring myself to it. And I know that's spineless of me. You are -- wow. Good for you.

[Niki]

I think a lot of people disagreed with your choice to have him stay. It's your choice not ours and I am very proud of you for sticking to your guns no matter how painful.

[Shannon]

Atta girl!

[heathercoo]

I was freshly graduated from high school when I was told that they were moving out of the territory and I wasn't welcome where they were going unless I broke up with my boyfriend. I didn't and suffered for it for the following 5 years. I still haven't taken that stand against my mom yet and I applaud you for doing so.

Chin up K because you are truly an amazing person.