Flashback Friday-Stubborn in Black and White

I know that I'm a pretty compliant person for the most part, and as a child, I was very compliant. But I have some memories of myself being really stubborn and I try to hold onto these memories when I'm struggling with my kids because it's the only thing that helps me understand what's going on in their heads.

I had to see counselors when I was a kid because of the divorce and then the other divorces and the custody battle (over me) that lasted a year. I was 12 and that entire year sucked major ass. I hurt my mom over and over and tried to be the biggest brat I could to get my way. I ran away, I smarted off every time I could, and I stopped trying in school.  I remember sitting in counselors' offices as a child and not talking for the entire time I was supposed to, just to prove to my mom that it wouldn't work and no one could make me. I spent hours in complete silence and staring at Dr. M*******.  I hated his face, his freckles, his voice, his disgusting red chest hair fluffing out of his unbuttoned shirt, and I was more than happy to irritate him.  The more he despised me, the happier I was. There was only one counselor that I ended up talking to, Dr. Jim, and it was because he was so nice and let me come to him. He was so sweet, I worried about hurting his feelings.  I knew I wasn't truly a stubborn ass, but in survival mode, and he was the only one I would allow to get close to me. 

I also remember another time as a child...my mom had a boyfriend and I didn't like him. He watched us one night and made us dinner. He poured me milk, which I don't drink and never have. I informed him of the fact that I don't tolerate milk. He poured me a glass anyway. I didn't drink it. He told me I couldn't get up from the table until I finished drinking it. So I sat there until my mom got home, and although it felt like hours, I really don't remember how long I sat there, staring at him and the glass of milk. It could have had time to curdle, and I would have sat in that chair watching it. I wasn't happy that he didn't listen to something as simple as "I don't drink milk and never have." I'm sure a counselor would've told my mom that I was just rebelling against her having a boyfriend, but I really just hate milk that much. I'm sure I rebelled against my mom dating the Milk Nazi after that though.

I hate fighting my kids, and I hate that they want to fight me. You think you're going to be different. Those other people warning you about teens, certainly your kids won't be like that to you. Ha ha ha. Yeah. And I'm not laughing. It sucks. And it hurts.  But I also wouldn't go back to being a kid for anything. I hated not having any control of anything in my life. I did what my parents told me to do, but I think I was very insecure that things were always going to change....and they always did.  No one ever asked me what I wanted. And if they considered my feelings, I didn't know it. All I felt was that I was in the middle, all the time. The world was as grey as it is now, but I was only capable of seeing it as black and white. I was always trying to make sense of a big mess and someone was always wrong in my eyes. I was incapable of seeing that life is dynamic, that there was more than what met my eyes, and that the people I loved the most were imperfect and just human.  And although life is still pretty much a mess, I've gotten pretty good at rolling with the punches and I'm thankful that I realize that the world is far from black and white, but rather, thousands of shades of grey, and people are imperfect and beautifully messed up. I can't explain this to my kids. They won't understand....yet. 

Now I'm in control of 4 other lives. And they'll tell me stories one day about when I pissed them off. It's the cycle of life.