Hello Smogon, I'm a teenager. After almost three years in said profession, my parents are finally beginning to grate on me. Perhaps this thread might help me become less annoyed with them, and apply some perspective to what is effectively a bunch of hormones pouring into a generational gap. If not, at least it'll be some kind of catharsis for me. Ready steady go-
I think I'll begin this almost essay-like post with a nod in the direction of To Kill a Mockingbird, which happens to be one of my favourite books of all time, but this isn't a book review thread. I think my family draws a lot of parallels with the Finch family -- the main characters of the book, if you're unfamiliar (if you are, go read it!) -- and a certain quote in particular resonated with me. Scout, the narrator, says 'Jem and I found our father adequate'. This is a bit like the relationship I have with my father.
When I was young -- in fact, until the age of seven -- I had very little contact with my dad. This was because he used to run a printing business and worked from the small hours of the morning (~4:00am) until late at night (midnight, perhaps spilling over into the morning). In a rigidly-structured household like mine, it became very rare that I would see my dad, as I would be asleep whenever he was in the house. On the few occasions on which my dad and I went on days out together, I thought it was great that I could finally get to know the guy. Still, I think I was perhaps more glad of being rid of my sister, and having some sweets at the cinema I guess.
Naturally the absence of my dad left me in the care of my mother, to whom I will henceforth call 'mum' (and if you don't like that, ye Americans, you don't have to read this hormonal rant of mine). I suppose only ever really having my mum as a parent during my formative years has left me a great deal more feminine than I ought to be, but I'm pretty confident that I'm straight so I suppose this is another example for 'nature' in the origins of sexuality argument. Anyway, I digress. I guess I'll just say that while my care was nothing special, I don't harbour any grudges against her or anything like that.
So after that verbose -- yet distinctly detail-lacking -- family history, how did this rift begin to develop? I suppose it began a year or so ago, perhaps to the month. Perhaps to the week, it was certainly about this time of year. If you've read my previous laments in other people's threads then you'll know that it was my sister who first decided that her chosen career would be an author, and naturally upon producing her first novel(-la, given it was a mere 21,000 words) my parents were thrilled. The second time, with an incredible increase on the previous by 5,000 words, they were also thrilled. Perhaps their daughter could become a great success? And so they devoted their energies to making her life a success. I suppose it has always been that way, since she's my elder by a year. Not that you would guess it, given that she's both shorter and less mature than I, but anyway...
It was actually in January of this year that I, too, decided that this writing lark would be for me. If you've read up to this point and haven't killed yourself, then I suppose I might stick to that choice.. Upon presenting my own novel (50,000 words, suck it sis) to a former English teacher of mine -- my family had declined to read it -- he said that he thought I had the talent necessary to make as an author, save for one weakness of mine. I stood there, quite certain of what he was going to say. He was, of course, going to say that I'm too verbose. I need to cut down on my use of subordinate clauses, like these, and get my point across more economically. I was quite shocked when he instead said "self-confidence". I realised that I hadn't really bothered to do anything, due to the lack of parental support. It was then that I realised I would have to work independently to have any hope of success. So I isolated myself and began to keep secrets from my parents, not that they would do anything with such information, of course.
Oh, and my dad eventually did read my novel. He said it was "weird".
Hm, where am I going with this... Ah, yes.
Whenever family members visited, the topic of conversation would be that my sister had written a novel. Not me, of course. Why would anything I had written be greater? And so I isolated myself further. Perhaps my own isolation caused my parents to bond with her further. She can do pretty much anything she likes, and indeed be the definition of immaturity, yet when I respond -- quite calmly -- to questions about whether I can handle my extreme workload (which naturally isn't as large as my sister's, who nevertheless manages due to her exceptional intellect) I am often berated.
In fact, such a situation spawned my writing of this thread. After calmly foregoing some of the sandwiches my mum had made (knowing that I don't like them, as I've told her at least thrice in the past two months) she decided to spring the ultimate question: have I done my homework. From my, admittedly irritated, perspective, this seems an awful lot like using a prompt to take out some anger on me. I calmly reply 'no'. She then shouts to my Dad that I am always snapping at her (note: I'm still in the room). My dad shouts back that she should nip such behaviour in the bud. I then silently accept a tirade of insults.
I know I've talked about isolating myself from my family, but my behaviour hasn't changed particularly in the past six months, so when did it ever become like this? Why am I suddnely but a punching bag for someone's stress, but I can't even whisper of my own? If anything, these situations, which have not been uncommon over the past few weeks, will prompt me to further distance myself from my family.
So, Smogon, I put this to you. Am I dealing with bad parents, a bad collection of teenage hormones, or some mixture of the two? I said that, at the very least, this thread would be some form of catharsis for me, and I guess it has. I'm not really angry any more, but there is no resolution to the problem either.
If you've read everything, then I sincerely thank you. I suppose I'll imagine that everyone who comments did, because that will make me feel better.
Oh, and perhaps posting your own stories would help me too.
Thanks.
I think I'll begin this almost essay-like post with a nod in the direction of To Kill a Mockingbird, which happens to be one of my favourite books of all time, but this isn't a book review thread. I think my family draws a lot of parallels with the Finch family -- the main characters of the book, if you're unfamiliar (if you are, go read it!) -- and a certain quote in particular resonated with me. Scout, the narrator, says 'Jem and I found our father adequate'. This is a bit like the relationship I have with my father.
When I was young -- in fact, until the age of seven -- I had very little contact with my dad. This was because he used to run a printing business and worked from the small hours of the morning (~4:00am) until late at night (midnight, perhaps spilling over into the morning). In a rigidly-structured household like mine, it became very rare that I would see my dad, as I would be asleep whenever he was in the house. On the few occasions on which my dad and I went on days out together, I thought it was great that I could finally get to know the guy. Still, I think I was perhaps more glad of being rid of my sister, and having some sweets at the cinema I guess.
Naturally the absence of my dad left me in the care of my mother, to whom I will henceforth call 'mum' (and if you don't like that, ye Americans, you don't have to read this hormonal rant of mine). I suppose only ever really having my mum as a parent during my formative years has left me a great deal more feminine than I ought to be, but I'm pretty confident that I'm straight so I suppose this is another example for 'nature' in the origins of sexuality argument. Anyway, I digress. I guess I'll just say that while my care was nothing special, I don't harbour any grudges against her or anything like that.
So after that verbose -- yet distinctly detail-lacking -- family history, how did this rift begin to develop? I suppose it began a year or so ago, perhaps to the month. Perhaps to the week, it was certainly about this time of year. If you've read my previous laments in other people's threads then you'll know that it was my sister who first decided that her chosen career would be an author, and naturally upon producing her first novel(-la, given it was a mere 21,000 words) my parents were thrilled. The second time, with an incredible increase on the previous by 5,000 words, they were also thrilled. Perhaps their daughter could become a great success? And so they devoted their energies to making her life a success. I suppose it has always been that way, since she's my elder by a year. Not that you would guess it, given that she's both shorter and less mature than I, but anyway...
It was actually in January of this year that I, too, decided that this writing lark would be for me. If you've read up to this point and haven't killed yourself, then I suppose I might stick to that choice.. Upon presenting my own novel (50,000 words, suck it sis) to a former English teacher of mine -- my family had declined to read it -- he said that he thought I had the talent necessary to make as an author, save for one weakness of mine. I stood there, quite certain of what he was going to say. He was, of course, going to say that I'm too verbose. I need to cut down on my use of subordinate clauses, like these, and get my point across more economically. I was quite shocked when he instead said "self-confidence". I realised that I hadn't really bothered to do anything, due to the lack of parental support. It was then that I realised I would have to work independently to have any hope of success. So I isolated myself and began to keep secrets from my parents, not that they would do anything with such information, of course.
Oh, and my dad eventually did read my novel. He said it was "weird".
Hm, where am I going with this... Ah, yes.
Whenever family members visited, the topic of conversation would be that my sister had written a novel. Not me, of course. Why would anything I had written be greater? And so I isolated myself further. Perhaps my own isolation caused my parents to bond with her further. She can do pretty much anything she likes, and indeed be the definition of immaturity, yet when I respond -- quite calmly -- to questions about whether I can handle my extreme workload (which naturally isn't as large as my sister's, who nevertheless manages due to her exceptional intellect) I am often berated.
In fact, such a situation spawned my writing of this thread. After calmly foregoing some of the sandwiches my mum had made (knowing that I don't like them, as I've told her at least thrice in the past two months) she decided to spring the ultimate question: have I done my homework. From my, admittedly irritated, perspective, this seems an awful lot like using a prompt to take out some anger on me. I calmly reply 'no'. She then shouts to my Dad that I am always snapping at her (note: I'm still in the room). My dad shouts back that she should nip such behaviour in the bud. I then silently accept a tirade of insults.
I know I've talked about isolating myself from my family, but my behaviour hasn't changed particularly in the past six months, so when did it ever become like this? Why am I suddnely but a punching bag for someone's stress, but I can't even whisper of my own? If anything, these situations, which have not been uncommon over the past few weeks, will prompt me to further distance myself from my family.
So, Smogon, I put this to you. Am I dealing with bad parents, a bad collection of teenage hormones, or some mixture of the two? I said that, at the very least, this thread would be some form of catharsis for me, and I guess it has. I'm not really angry any more, but there is no resolution to the problem either.
If you've read everything, then I sincerely thank you. I suppose I'll imagine that everyone who comments did, because that will make me feel better.
Oh, and perhaps posting your own stories would help me too.
Thanks.
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