A friend of mine is raising her granddaughter. The girl is now a fully paid up member of the oh-so-typical teenaged ‘I hate my mother’ club, which I’m sure makes life very difficult all round.
It so takes me back. My own teenaged years were riddled with ‘issues’, or so I thought. Over-sensitivity, self-consciousness, irritability, moodiness, anger. I had the lot. These years are widely hyped as being the best days of your life – all I could think was, if this is it, who wants it? I felt constant angst. Boyfriends, girlfriends, school, my body, everything!
Most of my problems were taken out on my mother. We fought constantly over everything and nothing. She made too many rules. Set me a curfew. None of my friends‘ mothers ever did things like that!
And do you remember how embarrassing you used to find your family? I used to walk a few paces behind every time we all went out, hoping no one would guess that that was my family. I somehow missed the fact that we all looked somewhat alike!
And I was soooo different. Not at all like them. No wonder no one understood me!
Roll on 20 years and I had my very own teenaged daughter. That was payback big time, and made me truly realise how horrible it must have been for my own mother.
My daughter and I got through it. And now get along famously. And yes, I did apologise to my mother for my horrible teenage years…she quite graciously said she didn’t remember it being so bad.
I’ll end with a Mark Twain quote, which though written about sons and fathers, equally applies to daughters/mothers:
When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.