My parents gave me everything – toys, a great education, love, support, my first (and second) car – but they did not know what to do with a child who was as vocally confrontational as I was. To them, challenging adults was totally unacceptable and disrespectful. And, truth be told, by the end of my high school years a lot of the choices I did make were not very healthy. I’m sure at that point they were struggling to try and move my life in a more positive direction, though, I think that their attempts only backfired and made it worse. 

After I got to college, our relationship improved dramatically. Once I had more space, things got a lot better. One of my biggest fears is getting a kid who is as challenging as I was; I mean, as a parent, you have to keep them safe, which means you need to be able to say no and make choices for them. However, with me, I think I would have benefited from a lot more space to make mistakes.

Miss Bluebells: My relationship with my parents was kind of dependent on whatever was going on with other siblings in the house at the time. My older sister and brother were both a little more rebellious, so I naturally fell into the role of “good girl.” I was a good listener and pretty mature from an early age, so I often talked to my parents about what was going on with my siblings on a pretty even level; as a result, I had a better understanding of their rules and concerns, and tried mostly to respect them so as not to add to their stress. This dynamic definitely changed the older I became – toward the end of high school, I was sick of the negative attention my brother and sister created in the house (negative attention is still attention, after all.) Consciously or unconsciously, it made me push away from my parents and seek stronger relationships with my friends instead. It didn’t seem to matter what I did, so I used that to my advantage and got away with a lot of things. I didn’t talk to my parents about sex, drinking, drugs, etc – it seemed easier on them just to hide it all and let them think I was the “easy” one. 

I think that has probably lasted into my adult years. I definitely understand them more now, and we are able to talk more like old friends now when we see each other (being able to legally drink with your parents helps a lot!) but I still tend to keep any troubles in my life from them so as not to worry them. The older you get, this definitely makes it harder to be truly close.

Miss Magnolia: I moved out at 16 years old. I was an angry child and to put it simply, I didn’t like living with my parents. They were overbearing, had rules for no reason, didn’t understand me, and would often use the phrase: “Because I said so!” as the reason for how things went around the house. 

They loved me very much though, that was never a doubt. I wasn’t allowed to go to friends’ homes for sleep overs or have friends come over, couldn’t do what all the cool kids were doing on weekends, but we were very family oriented and would always be there for each other. It was a strange combination of smother, love and laughter. While I was living with my way too old boyfriend, we kept cordial contact as we were in the same town, and I would often go for dinner at their house, but I wanted them to see that I could do it on my own. Growing up, my family had moved around a lot, and I needed stability and friends on a different level than they could possibly understand.

Looking back (and looking forward as a future potential parent), I think explaining the “why’s” would have helped me better understand why they were so scared or restrictive. They could have explained why they did not want us to go to a friend’s house, or what would help them feel more comfortable as parents. It would have been helpful if they talked to use about uncomfortable things more often – and talk with us instead of at us – or involved us all in some of the decision-making. Fortunately, my parents did always let us be ourselves, and for that I am eternally thankful, because much of who I am today is because of them. 

Now, I call my mom and dad almost every other day. We even make sex jokes; I tell them the problems I have in my relationship, I fight right with them, and there’s no where else I want to go but home when things are turning to shit. Getting older, I can finally understand why they were the way they were, and I love them for it.