The wondering years

The milestone of adolescence to becoming a young adult varies across every single individual. My daughter, for one will be 13 soon this coming spring. I should be worried like any parent would. However, I have decided that until I get to that point, I will not worry about it. When that time comes, I will have to choose which battle to fight.

For the moment, I will reflect on my own milestone. Honestly, becoming a teenager was not something I was eager to become. My reason for dreading the milestone was mainly because of the influence my mother has enforced on me, regarding my self-image. An image I have to portray, which is to be the utmost perfect lady. I had to carry my head up high, strut with class and to speak eloquently with poise and prudence. Evidently, even with good intentions, my mother extended this expectation with brutal criticism and harsh discipline. For a good solid moment when all your trust with the one person you held so dear, becomes your nightmare. I had often wondered as a teenager, what it would be like to be an adult and if it would change the way my parents thought about me.

By the time I was 14, I had no choice but to tell my mother, that if she were to strike me again, I will make sure someone will get hurt and that it wouldn’t be me. The breaking point had its limit. I was done with her telling me how ugly and unsophisticated I was to her and how much I reminded her of her “monster” of a husband. Honestly, this wasn’t the worst part of my life.

When I was 16, I was sent back to the Philippines. There was a typhoon that hit Los Baños, Laguna. I got sick with food poisoning and did not even realize it until an OBGYN had to point it out to the doctor who was suppose to be helping me get better. This doctor thought my parents were making millions, since Brunei is well-known for its riches in natural oil and gas. A doctor in a small province, really doesn’t make much at all. So, enabling me to be sick, this doctor believed he would rake himself some money by keeping me at the hospital. It should have been an easy treatment of ‘get rid of bacteria in digestive system’ for a week rather than three.

Instead of being worried about me, my parents were infuriated with my actions since I had gone to a different restaurant from where I was supposed to dine at. Regardless of the matter, whether I had waited to dine at the designated restaurant, the whole area had no power. Another factor to consider, we were not allowed to cook at the dormitory. The aforementioned restaurant did not own a power generator. They had to borrow it from somewhere else. So, by the time they had found one to open shop, I had 2 hours left into my curfew since I had been looking for a place to eat. It was a long walk back to the campus dormitory since the Jeepneys were not able to drive in the flood.

The aggravation was intense while I was using the hospital courtesy phone. I retorted back to them, “Then, you would rather have me starve to death?” The response was, “If there had been no other choice, you should have stayed home and eaten some bread.” It was very convenient of my mother to personally ask the owner of that restaurant if they were open that day not realizing the situation at that time. Of course, they were going to say they had not seen me come in because they were closed when I had arrived there. It was just the sheer inconsideration on my parents’ part for not understanding what happened when the typhoon struck Luzon.

The emotional break down from that moment became the worst part of my life. The acknowledgement in which my parents had given me, made me feel that I was worth nothing more than a piece of bread. Yes, I understand that this was my teenage angst. I was depressed then, not realizing how much of what I have expected from my parents merely was an ideal. An ideal parent would have taken measures to fly to Philippines, talk to the doctor, or something to show that I meant the world to them. A loaf of bread is not enough to keep one’s starvation level satisfied, especially after a flood. There had been no power for 2 consecutive months. The concept alone trying to understand why my parents were angry at me for being sick was too much for me. I was so angry at that time, I wanted to kill myself. Just as soon as I was about to cut myself, my roommate’s boyfriend walked in. He noticed what I was doing and asked me, “Why?”

I told him the burdens and expectations my parents have given me were too much for me to handle. I told him that I was nothing more than an image to them - an icon of an ideal successful eldest child. I explained to him that I was a failure to them and was more of a burden than being a poster child you see in Parent Magazine. He just blinked at me, gave me a hug and told me I was worth more than that. He told me I had so much to live for. He said, “I know this may sound selfish, but YOU have to live for yourself. It is YOU who will live your own life. If not for you, live for God. I may not be a devout Catholic, but I know what is right in my heart. If you let God guide you, YOU will be happy.”

From that moment, the worst part of my life became my best. When the day it was my godparents’ turn to pick me up for the weekend, I asked them what it meant to be a family. As soon as I asked, they invited me to join them to their church’s family camp. This has been my personal testimony on how I became a born-again Christian. I have never regretted that moment.

I know my daughter will never understand what I had gone through as a teenager. Needless to say, I have prepared her for what to expect. As far as introducing her into Christianity, I only told her what she needed to know and made her aware that I have delved into other religions long before she was born. She is more than welcome to do her own research about them. I was giving her this opportunity to learn about other religions because it would allow her to better understand where people are coming from. I had no great intentions of converting her into some auspicious religion that may not even lead her life to euphoria or benefit her spiritual journey. If I had in fact indoctrinated her, she would not know any better. With that being said, my actions would have basically made her lose all meaning of the phrase, “finding oneself in life”.

I was 19 when I had my first boyfriend. Sure, I had some crushes and courters in high school. My mother’s constant badgering about my academics allowed me not to take the courtship ritual seriously. My boyfriend at that time was still taking his GCE ‘A’ Levels while I had taken a career path in Computers and Information Systems. Everything was going well, until my mother gave the news that we had to immigrate to the U.S. My depression and aggression ensued.

I took it upon myself to find my destiny. I enlisted in the military since my parents have not established themselves financially well when we arrived in California. I know I swore to abstain from sex while in military training and to wait until I finally get my degree in Computer Information Systems and Security.

I was enjoying the notion of reuniting with my boyfriend from our long distance relationship after I had accomplished all that I had planned. I didn’t become sexually active until I turned 21. I had my one and only daughter at 22. I was in tears when I gave my boyfriend the news, but he was too far away to do anything about it. He was kind enough to let go of the relationship.

Considering how far I had come from where I began, I am proud of myself for accomplishing what most teenagers dread to face: responsibility. I know several of my friends from the U.S. who got pregnant too early, have gone through more than what they’ve bargained for. I give them kudos for sticking with it (taking full responsibility of their actions) and not allowing themselves to be mocked on national TV as you see on the Maury Show, Dr. Phil or Teen Mom.

My husband is fully confident our daughter has a good head on her shoulders. We will burn that bridge when we get there. The final conclusion regarding becoming an adult with an elderly parent: the only person who changed was ME.

The violent streak

It hasn't been a year yet, but considering the fact that this incident has only happened once, I'll have to let this one go. Nevertheless, she should have known better than to hit another student with a water bottle right on the noggin.
The most disconcerting thing is, her reason for doing so. The student who allegedly offended her, had made rude comments about my drawing.
I had to explain to her that this particular drawing was just a rough sketch. Most rough sketches are going to look crappy. Most artist know this. My husband did most of the talking because my daughter believes that my art sketches are immaculate. As much as I love my daughter, I couldn't bring myself to shatter her emulation of becoming an artist like me.
The only thing that I recall when I was younger, was when a boy had overstepped his boundaries after several warnings. He was 12; I was 10. The incident happened at a Christian family's home. The adults were in the living room having their Bible study, while the children were in another room, supervised by two young adults. So, this boy started to haress my sister. Considering the elder sister I had to be, I butted in. I must have provoked his pride because he started insulting how stupid and weak girls were. With that being said, I asked him how he got to that conclusion. He based it off of his experience with his younger sister. I told him not all girls are the same. By this time, my sister told me to leave the argument. So, I told him to leave my sister alone; otherwise face the consequences. He laughed and boasted to his friends that empty threats are what girls are good at. I told him to stop where he's at and to leave me be otherwise I would have to make him pay.</p> I left with my sister to the other side of the room, but was confronted with a discerning question as to why I even bothered with the boy. I told her it was my duty to save my angel. She frowned and begged me to stop calling her that. Just when I thought the situation was over and done with, the boy returned by asking me how I would make him pay if he didn't leave me alone.
"Don't," my sister exclaimed.
"I will beat you on the head," I retorted back to the boy and walked away towards center of the room.
"Just ignore him," my sister urged.
"You don't think I'm not?" I asked in great irritation since the boy kept following us whilst throwing insults and taunts. Whatever happened to the two young adults was beyond me. All I knew then, was this boy would not stop until I did something. I yelled at him to leave me alone. He laughed and jeered, "Now you sound like my stupid little sister."
Aggravated, by what he said, I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him. "Last warning! Leave me alone. You should be old enough to know better." He laughed and walked towards his friend who was now sitting by the wall where the air conditioner was located. He shouted back at me, "See, I told him you were too stupid to do anything."
I was infuriated. I ran towards him, pushed him against the wall, grabbed him by collar and shook him vigorously over again against the wall. My sister screamed, "Stop! He's bleeding!"
I stopped. Sure enough, this 12-year old boy was crying and bleeding. As for me, I was shaking in my bones and trying to make sense of what had happened. It didn't occur to me at that time, but it was to a point in my life, I realized what anger actually was.
If my sister hadn't stop me, he would have died from brain hemorrhage. He had to get 35 stitches on his head. That fact alone, was enough to traumatize a 10 year old. At least, he stopped pestering his little sister. He definitely learned more than a good lesson. He never bothered me again.
If my genetics were the root of the violent streak, sure I'll buy the stereotype. I've always tried to be pleasant with everyone I meet as much as possible. Whatever she was feeling at that time, may have been justified. Nevertheless, she has been lectured many times before about appropriate behavior when it comes to being bullied, insulted or pressured into something that would lead her into trouble. We constantly remind her that she's in the age now where the government can lock her away as a juvenile delinquent. Whatever notion she has in her mind, she needs to realize that testing that very boundary would be a very bad idea.

Not giving up just yet

We thought we had a monumental break through when we had our daughter get into Magic: The gathering with us. She finally got her grades up by turning in her last minute completed homework and had begun focusing on working in class instead of socializing. After her success in putting in some effort, we rewarded her with a Return to Ravnica Holiday Box.

3 days before Friday Night Magic, she came home with a suspicious looking book and had been caught with a set of MTG cards different from her own stack. She told my husband that her teacher had given the sketch book to her as a late birthday gift. It donned on him to ask more questions since she was already told not to accept gifts from other people. The teachers were already forewarned about her behavior from the previous school. As for the cards, she told him that she had found them on the couch.

My husband wasn't able to continue with the matter since I was scheduled for surgery. He informed me about her obsession with Black Veil Brides and her inability to recognize tact. She had apparently wanted to bring her sketchbook, which had a drawing of skulls and bones along to the Emergency Room.

I comforted my husband and noted that I realize that she still reminds me of my childhood. With that being said, I have admitted to him that I may have been oblivious to my surroundings at her age. However, I also noted to him that was never disrespectful towards others in that manner. Long before my daughter ever heard of Black Veil Brides, my efforts of trying to get her to respect other people was an overwhelming challenge.

Needless to say, my husband told her to confess her misdeed or face the consequences of her actions. So, she decided to lie about it; claiming that she found the sketch book lying on the ground at school. My husband showed me what she had done to the notebook. I opened it and found the owner's name and phone number all scratched on as well as a few pages missing. I had pointed it out to my husband and the moment of disappointment had gone from his face. The thought of being lied to was not only irritating for him, it's also a serious offense.

When we were getting ready for Friday Night Magic, she not only had stolen that strange notebook, but she has overstepped her boundaries by getting into people's personal spaces.

She has been forewarned several, and numerous occasions that if she is going to continue with this behavior, she'll end up in jail. There wasn't anything that we could do if that situation ever happens.

We made her aware of her efforts and it would be a darn shame to see all that effort she made gone to waste by doing something foolish.

Waiting for the inevitable

My daughter came home with an "F" on Science and a "D" in Math. As it turns out, she has unsuccessfully turned in her homework and classwork. In addition to all this, she was also marked down for not taking good notes.

She just gave us a blank stare when we asked her to explain herself.  She started blaming the janitor for throwing away her binder. Interestingly enough, it appeared today in her backpack.

We've warned her many times the consequences she's going to face if she continued the path she's taking.
Before she got to middle school,  she told us she wanted to be a Veterinarian or a famous writer. She would like to join the Air Force since she heard that they pay good money to send you to college. Of course,  like any good and sensible parents, we provided her the correct information she needed to achieve her goals and her assumptions about the Air Force.  It's not that we were discouraging her from enlisting. She just needed to know that she has to score at least an 85 on the ASVAB to be considered for the Air Force.  At least, that was what I had scored when I was evaluated. If I had been an American citizen then, I would have had a Masters degree in Electrical Engineering by the time I had earned my Staff Sergeant rank.

But of course, that was not what had happened. I was distraught from being dragged all they way from College to start a new life in American soil and live the "American Dream". With that attitude alone, I paid for the consequences of my actions. My one and only regret, I had allowed myself to be vulnerable. 

I have not told my daughter a lot of the things I had done as a child mainly because I do not need her to pick up my bad habits in addition to my temperament. I realized she's still able to pick those up by watching me, but at least it would not be reinforced if I had declared my character as truth.  My world was different then.

My daughter believes that the world she lives in is cut and dry. We remind her every day that the world is full of opportunities. She just needs to pay attention and grab the opportunity when it's available.

It's bad enough when the professionals of Modern Psychology and Human Behavior are unable to crack the nutshell of our case. How much worse could it get when the social workers get involved?

We haven't given up. We're still trying to make her understand what to expect if she continues to lie, gallivant, ignore the rules and test our boundaries. We told her time and time again,  that if she displayed this behavior in public, she would either end up in the streets jobless and/or homeless, locked up in juvenile detention facilities, injured, kidnapped, in prison or dead.

I have no intentions in leaving any details out or adding dramatic contents to this journal.  It's a matter of how much effort I have to deal with in picking my battles, as one would put it bluntly.

I have received all kinds of suggestions and tried most of them with respect to my situation. I've even gotten to a point where I had to use WebMD™. Yet again, we are back to square one.

It's not like we've changed the house rules or anything. Those rules have been well-grounded and established since we've gotten primary custody of her in 2009. She may not remember much as a toddler, but I had instilled those rules right after she turned one.

I believe that role model parents would not be able to convince this child otherwise. She listens more to her peers than the assigned authoritative adults or her parents for that matter.

It is still my utmost duty, to perform my necessary function as a parent. Regardless of how often she continues to test our boundaries, we will still stand firm as a united front with positive reinforcement including lots of love, patience and understanding.