Sometimes being strong-willed is a curse. When I was younger I could work through it. I would just get a punishment for whatever happened, and that was the end of it. But as my teenage years rolled around, things started getting sticky. I wanted my freedom to do what I wanted with my life.

I couldn’t drive, nor did I have a job. So basically I didn’t do much. I did run cross country my freshman year, even made varsity. But sophomore year, I stopped running because of knee problems. With my school and friends about 15 miles away from home, things weren’t much fun. I would want to see my friends, but my parents didn’t like to drive me to see them because of how much gas it would use up. Plus my parents wanted me to be doing structured things rather than just “hanging out” like I wanted.

As my sophomore year went on, things got worse. I was less interested in my family and more interested in my friends. I had no love for my family. The nicest thing I could say to them was a curse.

A life spiraling out of control

I decided to start smoking. During second semester I began sneaking out on a regular basis to hang out with people my parents didn’t like. One time I even got a tattoo. We were gone all night—stayed up, got our tattoos, got a little drunk, and then went to school. I made it on time and even managed to stay awake in all my classes, but still that was really stupid.

After getting that tattoo, my parents decided that they wanted to get me tested to see if I had picked up some disease. On the way back from the doctor’s office, my mom and I got into a screaming match. She ended up pulling over to the side of the road and told me to get out and walk home. The last thing I heard her say was, “And if you hitchhike, I’ll see you in heaven!” I was seven or eight miles away from home. After walking about two miles I stopped at a house and called a friend to come and pick me up. Not sure what to do, he ended up dropping me off at the house of a guy that I was involved with.

The guy and I hung out for the day and then went to a party that night. Around 3 A.M. I knew my family was probably sufficiently freaking out and I should get home, but I still didn’t want to. We ended up parking the car somewhere, and I lost my virginity. The sad thing about it is that I did it not so much because I wanted to do it with him, but because I knew it was the one thing that I could do to hurt my mom the most. Then I went home and went to bed.