Monday, November 10, 2008
Living with your parents is tough when you're 25 and still being treated like a child. It's 11am, Sunday morning. Bang... bang... bang... goes my door, followed by the piercing pitch of my mother's voice yelling "Wake up! Come on, wake up! Look at the time!" How many times have I been startled from slumber in that manner after a late night out? How many times have mother and daughter descended into the same old Sunday morning wrangles? To be honest, I've lost count. I'm already 25, single and earning my keep as an account co-ordinator with an advertising agency. But finding my own place is still a pipe-dream, as I struggle rather miserably with my personal finances. I know there's that old saying "beggars can't be choosers", but beggars have a right to privacy and are allowed certain liberties at home aren't they? I keep trying to impress the fact on my parents, but they just don't seem to listen. Take my mother, for instance. She still hasn't recognised that I am no longer 12 years old. I'm guessing she finds it hard to let go. I could never broach the subject of moving out, having my own space or even making my own decisions. The very suggestion of me leaving home would be absolute sacrilege to her. to impose such a though would have catastrophic consequences. God forbid such unpleasantries, I want none of that. So I hold my tongue and grumble to friends instead. And then there are my father's etched-in-stone house rules: » No boys allowed home (which has caused many nerve-wrecking episodes when I've to attempt to sneak boyfriends out in broad daylight). » No friends allowed in the family home without prior permissions. » Home by 7:30pm for dinner every night. » No smoking or drinking in the house. » No vacation plans to be made without consulting my parents first. And, definitely no vacations with boyfrends. »No loud music. » Home by 3am after clubbing. » No phone calls after 11:30pm because I should be asleep by then. I know I sound like a complete ingrate, but I'll remind you again that I'm a working woman in her mid-20s, and all I want after a hard day at the office is to head back to my very own little sanctuary for some peace and quiet. I don't hate living with my parents, but I wush they'd ease up just a little. Of course, I realise it's not always the parents who are at fault. There are always two sides to every story - I'll admit that I'm a total pain to live with sometimes. After all, none of us are perfect, we're all only human. Eventually, I will pack my bags and fly from my parents' nest. And that's both a desirable and scary prospect. I'll finally consider myself brave enough to face the social responsibilities and unknown realities of living in the adult world, all the stuff my parents have been shielding and gingerly guiding me through for the past 25 years. When that day comes, I'm sure they'll be nothing but incredilby supportive and proud of me.