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GROWING UP an ONLY CHILD
How I learned being an only child could give me a different perspective on growing up. //VALERIE SKUBAL
Sass, but no siblings: Writer Valerie Skubal hated being an only child in an over-protective family when she was very young but eventually came to find her independence.
My friends said it as if it was something negative.
"You don't act like an only child."
People often assume only children have been spoiled and given the world during the whole of their young lives. Sure, I could've had less in my life, but I wouldn't say I've been spoiled. My parents wanted to make sure I appreciated what I had. Though, to them, my huge, messy room was a sign of ungratefulness, I never felt entitled.
When I was little I never gave any thought to how it could be negative to be an only child. I only knew that I was lonely because I didn't have anyone to keep me company. I had my dogs but they were never enough. And my parents were always busy when I needed someone to be Ken to my Barbie. I managed to keep myself company doing things that I liked with my imagination, such as re-enacting Disney scenes or singing along with classic rock songs on the radio.
My parents were overly protective throughout my young life — I just didn't know it. I, for all I knew, just wasn't allowed to ride with my friends in the back of their parents' pick-ups. But as I grew older and I was invited out more, I realized being an only child wasn't going to be easy.
Having an older sibling seemed to make my friends' lives easier. There were already mistakes made by the older brother or sister to prepare parents for the next one. I thought my life was harder than it would be if I had some punk for an older sibling. If only I had a bad older sibling, my parents could see how much of a good kid I was compared with all of my other friends.
During my sophomore year of high school after all of my friends were getting their licenses and they wanted to take me somewhere, there was always an interrogation process. They had to meet my dad and get a talk while they walked to the dog pen in the backyard. I'd always apologize for him but I'd never ask what he said. I can only imagine that it was an empty threat about not harming his "baby girl."
By the time I was driving I had had enough. I was the only one of my friends who had an 11 p.m. curfew. Suddenly, I had to battle with my parents to branch out as my teenage self. Why couldn't I go to that party? Why couldn't I see a late movie? It seemed like everyone I knew had developed a level of trust with their parents that I hadn't yet. But I hadn't done anything to betray their trust — I never got a bad grade. I never got speeding tickets and I never stayed out past curfew.
Before college I sucked it up and asked my parents if I could go to Colorado on a road trip I would be staying with my best friend's family and with close friends. My dad said no; he knew that either I would get in trouble or someone else would do it for me. So when my friends came back in one piece I got to hear of the fun they had.
At the end of my freshman year at the University, I decided I wanted to study abroad. I decided Kent University in Canterbury, England, would be the perfect castle town for me to make new friends and escape.
"Val-ree, if you get your arm blown off, it's gone forever," my dad said after I told him of my plans, as if I were traveling to an active war zone. It was difficult for me to argue any more and my dad didn't listen to me when I cried, so I gave up. I was too scared to ask anymore and passed up other study abroad opportunities and road trips
the next year.
My sophomore year was the last straw. I was living in my own apartment and felt independent I decided — instead of asking — I would just tell my dad I was going to go to Colorado this time. Miraculously he said that was OK. Though I had to call at every stop I made, I finally felt free. It just got easier from then on. My dad appeared to have had a change of heart and I wasn't about to question it. I must've gained his trust when I didn't screw up the first time I was let loose. He stopped asking questions and assuming that I was going to do something stupid. From that point on, he trusted my judgment. I don't miss the opportunities I've passed up anymore. I just look ahead at what I'm going to do with the moral support of my parents.
As much as I hated being an only child during my teenage years, I've realized that it's helped shape me. I was forced to grow up quickly and
obtain all of the wisdom of someone who had seen everything without actually seeing it for myself. I'm always looking out for my friends and being responsible for others. I instinctively stay away from harmful situations and I have my parents' influence to thank for that.
Though I still may not always share well with others, I've learned to appreciate my freedom and my parents at the same time.
I always thought that they didn't have any more kids because they were afraid of having "another me," but when I asked, my mom would always respond the same: "We didn't think we could get as lucky as we did with you." JP
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