You Are Where You Are Supposed to Be
The older I get, the more I am convinced that, at any given moment, we are right where we are supposed to be.
Sitting on my front porch, listening to Jah Cure on YouTube, watching the cars and neighbors strolling by is one of my happy places.
I haven’t sat out front in a while, so after dinner, I took my Sony speaker, cell phone, and a watermelon martini outside.
My home sits directly across the street from the clubhouse, which has a nice size pool and tennis courts.
Today there were over a dozen cars parked in the lot and this is unusual.
After about 30 minutes or so, I noticed a young girl slowly but intentionally, leaving the clubhouse and walk across the street toward my home. She casually walked up my driveway, and onto the walkway, straight to the front door. I never took my eyes off of her. I know she saw me looking at her. She stopped walking within a foot of me. I will call her Michelle. Michelle’s dark brown hair is wet. Her colorful two-piece swimsuit is wet. She’s barefoot and loosely wrapped in a flowered beach towel. She is holding something under the beach towel. She walks right up to my chair and stands next to me. A bit too close. The northerner in me keeps me momentarily on guard. I wonder if she has “something” wrapped in the towel. Am I gonna have to strong-arm her to defend myself. The moment felt peculiar and unusual.
I live in Georgia but still, my northern instincts keep me guarded.
With a huge grin on her face, “You look so cool, so I came over to meet you,” she said.
I smiled, greeted Michelle with a hello, a light chuckle, and asked if she was okay. Very quickly I realized she had been drinking. She looked under the drinking age so I asked her if she was old enough to drink. That’s when I learned she was 23.
I questioned her about who was with her. I was concerned about her drinking, wandering off, and driving. Michelle said she was with a friend. A few awkward quiet seconds passed because I was trying to figure out what she wanted from me.
Again I asked her if she wanted something; the response was the same. “No. You look cool!” I laugh. She was pretty tipsy, so I offered her a bottle of water, but she declined. Then I suggested she head back to the clubhouse and drink some water to flush her system.
Although we live in a subdivision, I decided to walk her across the street to the clubhouse. Cars drive through pretty fast and I did not want her to get hit by a car.
Before we approached my driveway, her boyfriend, who I will call Steven, crossed the street and was on the sidewalk. About six-foot, blonde hair, pretty brown eyes.
“I apologize ma’am. I am so sorry my friend came over” he said. He was incredibly sincere and apologetic.
I told Steven it was no big deal and I’d rather she came to my house and be safe than be harmed elsewhere.
The three of us talked. Both worked a job they enjoyed and neither were in college. They talked about the pressure they felt to attend college. Steven said he tried school, but it did not work out. Michelle was not interested in college either.
She told me her mother had kicked her out of the house. She began crying and walked over to me and placed her face in my chest. I put my arms around her.
The three of us chatted for about a half-hour with several intermittent hugs that occurred between me and Michelle. Her boyfriend was smart and wise for his age.
Michelle needed a motherly figure to hug her tight and that is exactly what I did. I would want someone to do the same for my child. While hugging Michelle, I thought about Covid. Everyone in my house is vaccinated and I felt like our meeting was no accident. I could not bring myself to push her away.
From what I knew of her situation, it reminded me of my younger years of getting the boot too. I recall the pain, tension, confusion, and anger I felt at 18 when my mother and I fought. I empathized with Michelle and reassured her that like me and my mother, she and her mother would eventually get through the tumultuous time.
Eventually, their friend pulled up in a car and they left. Before leaving they said they were glad we met. I agreed and invited Michelle to visit me again, but she must be sober. We all laughed.
I didn’t have answers for them but could only tell them what I knew for sure—Michelle’s situation wasn’t new and many family’s, especially mother-daughters, go through their fair share of struggles.
My standard line is that children don’t come with a book. And even if they did, no two children are alike, so it probably won’t work anyway.
This ritual of conflict between many parents and their teens and young adult children is draining..
When my oldest returned home her freshman year of college, like many parents, I was not ready for the transition. Oh my Lord!
Our sweet, innocent, and obedient daughter had metamorphosed into a rebellious spirit we did not recognize.
The realization is that, according to the NCBI, our little angel was going through a “dramatic spurt in brain development” that began during adolescence and continued until the mid-’20s.
Neither I or my husband saw this coming and I wish somebody out there told us. Whew!!! Life was WICKED!! She faced consequences, but we did not kick her out.
Let me tell you, from where I came from, you just flat out got your ass beat for improper tone, a side-eye, neck movement, and don’t you dare suck your teeth!
All the ass-whipping and slaps in my teen years didn’t fix the problems between me and mom; it exacerbated them, which is my point.
I didn’t know how to talk to her and she didn't know how to talk to me. I know some people will have a problem with me saying that my mom didn’t know how to talk to me, but it’s true.
I broke the cycle and I learned how to better communicate with my children.
Now don’t get me wrong, my children were disciplined. However, I also learned that, quite often, the root of their behavior stemmed from something else. When I understood the “something else” that was stirring them up, we were able to deal with the issue at hand.
So what is my point? If you are a parent exhausted by constant drama with your teen, ask for help.
If you have health insurance, talk to your teen’s doctor. Ask about referrals for professional help. Depending on your circumstance, a therapist, psychiatrist or psychologist may be necessary.
Schools, local community groups, the state, and counties have a plethora of resources. Especially for signal moms. It is okay to reach out for help.
These kids are keeping major secrets and are afraid to tell their parents what’s really troubling them. Their high school experiences are very different from ours. The pressure is unimaginable. Sexual and identity crises are a huge load that many carry.
To come out or not is a major source of emotional drain.
For additional resources review the list below:
https://www.hrc.org/resources/transgender-children-and-youth-understanding-the-basics
https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/how_parents_can_support_their_transgender_teens
I don’t believe in coincidences. The moment between Michelle and I was supposed to occur. I am glad we met. At the least, I pray that she left feeling more hopeful about the situation between her and her mother.
Stay present and be well.