What is...?

           Another angsty piece, from that hurting time in the fall.

What is seventeen? What is different between a one and a six, compared to a one and seven? The much-touted feature of birthdays is that in one day, you suddenly change because - oh my! – it’s official, a whole year has gone by. That we still allow young children to believe that overnight we become wiser, more mature and capable of better navigating the world, breaks my heart. It’s a lie.
          I could lie and say that growing up was not a shock. First, let me define growing up: to me that meant my sixteenth birthday.How could I not arrive at that conclusion? The sweet 16 is a cultural and personal milestone; you can now do the second most adult thing (next to drinking): drive, albeit with a licensed adult over 25 (That right there should be your first clue that we never really grow up – we just grow older, and whoever is eldest is “more adult” than you by default.). Suddenly it was expected that I would want to drink alcohol and go to parties every other weekend. At sixteen, a teenager is in grade 10, the year that attendance and grades “actually start to count” because post-secondary schools and possible future employers. They will see this time period full of changes and exploration as a reflection of YOU.
            Does this seem unrealistic to you as well? Sure you are given fifteen years and three hundred and sixty four days to prepare, but as I quickly learned, preparation is only half the battle; not to mention at sixteen, you really can't understand yet how to play the game of Life. Overnight your responsibilities increase dramatically with little reward. Again at seventeen, you must now behave even more so like an adult; sixteen was the practice year, and god knows it was a hell of a learning curve, but now you have stepped into Reality, where mistakes are tolerated on a 3 strike system. The reward had increased, for me at least, being seventeen: I had a later curfew, could be left home alone for a night, and depending on my mothers mood, can have open and very “adult” conversations. Since moving out, the rewards have made it to about par with the responsibilities: I can come and go as I please, but only I will feel exhausted if I stay out all night. I can have whatever kind of food I’d like, whenever I’d like, budget depending. The down shot is if I don’t feel like cooking, then only I go hungry. If I run out of clean underwear, then perhaps I should’ve been doing laundry instead of watching TV last night. Sometimes however, it seems to be a lose-lose : I ignored my schoolwork to clean the home, and must now ignore the home to catch up on school, so the pendulum effect zaps every free moment. I understand why my mom was so frustrated coming home to a dirty house.
               These teenage years, the best years of my life I’ve been promised, are shocking like an ice bath. While they have been invaluable for teaching me- or rather unteaching-, I must admit I look forward to my 40's, which it seems are the new 20's. I can speak only for myself: I was taught the world was one way, this incredible place my mother was undoubtedly preparing me for, only to arrive there, arms flung wide to receive all of that which was promised to me, owed to me, only to be violently knocked to the ground and have everything of value on my person taken and smashed to dust, material and otherwise. I have been lied to, put in a fantasy world by the one who gave me life and so should have had enough respect for the life she co-created to instill in me skills, values and a deep connection to reality to avoid this pain. I never expected to have my life simply handed to me; thank god I at least was taught that something worth having is worth the hard work it’s apt to require.
By creating this false reality, which would be absolutely lovely if it was true, or even possible, my community, my society, truly my entire family (through marriage, blood and evolution) has lied to me and set me up for failure in the real world. I can't blame them; they raised me in the same fashion as worked for generations before, and they could not know that I would so easily be able to see through the strict system of make-believe.