Southern Legitimacy Statement: I come from such a small town in Tennessee that I have to tell people I’m from Knoxville — even though that’s a two-hour drive from my hometown. But hey, everyone knows the Vols! Back home in Claiborne County, we measure distance by the number of Dollar Generals you pass, and the only real debate is which Mexican restaurant has the best cheese dip. The mountains keep us tucked out of sight, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.
I Understand You Now
When I was twelve, an older guy had sent me a dm. He was sixteen and could drive and he told me I was cute. We messaged for a while and he flirted with me but then my parents read those messages and made me block him. I was so mad at them and never understood why they made me do that until I turned sixteen and the thought of being with a twelve year old made me sick and never even crossed my mind. When I look back now, it’s not just about how uncomfortable the age gap was, it’s about the things I didn’t understand at twelve. I didn’t see how someone older, someone who could drive, who had more freedom, and who knew how to use words to make me feel special, might not have had the purest intentions. At twelve, I thought it was harmless. I thought it was flattering. But now, I see how vulnerable I was and how easy it would have been for someone like him to manipulate me.
Even now, the older I get the more I realize how my parents have been right about a lot of things. I then think of the kids who do not have that guidance. Having to find out the mistakes on their own. I regret not listening to my parents a lot. Fighting with them that just because I am young, I know more than them. I am an adult now and I have realized I don’t know much at all. The truth is, the older I get, the more I see just how much growing up I still have left to do. And how much I owe to the people who helped protect me, even when I didn’t want their help. My parents have always been steering me toward the right path even when I didn’t want to hear their advice.
My dad’s the one who stays calm when I’m panicking about deadlines or money or just life. He’s always handling the things I don’t understand, like taxes, insurance, or how to fix my car when those lights come on and I have no idea what they mean. My mom’s the one who listens, really listens, when I’m spiraling about a decision, helping me think things through without ever telling me what to do outright.
The thought of losing them terrifies me. I don’t just love them; I need them. They’re the safety net that keeps me from falling too far, and I can’t imagine navigating life without them. I’m not ready. What if I have to do something huge, like buy a house or those lights pop up on my car, and I can’t ask my dad for help? What if I’m trying to decide if I should take a job or end a friendship, and I can’t hear my mom’s voice reassuring me that I’m strong enough to choose? It scares me because sometimes I feel like I’m just playing at being an adult. I can do things on my own. I go to school, work, pay for gas, but when it comes to the deeper stuff, the stuff that really matters, I still run to them.
How am I supposed to know if I’m making the right choice and how am I supposed to trust myself to handle the practical things? I know they won’t be here forever, and that thought keeps me up at night. I know I’ll have to learn how to stand on my own, but the idea of a life where I can’t call them feels so empty. I don’t just want their guidance, I want to be able to say thank you every day for the way they’ve shaped me, for being the reason I’ve never felt truly lost. I want more time to need them, to lean on them, to be their child, even as I grow. But growing up isn’t about suddenly knowing everything or standing on my own without fear. It’s about carrying their voices with me, even when they’re not right there to answer the phone. It’s about realizing that everything they’ve taught me, has already shaped the way I move through the world.
One day, I’ll have to face life without them, but I won’t be facing it alone. Because they’re a part of me, in every lesson they’ve given, in every moment they’ve guided me toward the right path. And maybe, just maybe, that means I’m not as lost as I sometimes feel.
