Theme: NEW TUNE
By: Freya Von Bulow
Tags: Freedom of Expression, Parenthood, Young Adulthood, Teenage Rebellion

04.05.2021

OMG.

He’s gone.

My demon tenant simply left.

Just like that.

Before the deadline.

It’s done.

Finished.

The feeling of relief is overwhelming.

A year of worry dissolved.

Into thin air.

Everything worked out to the t.

In perfect timing.

And time it is.

To move on I think.

This morning I got caught sneaking a guy out of the downstairs flat where I’m staying at my parent’s house and to a taxi.

My step mom saw me.

And grassed.

To my dad.

He went mental.

And she is pissed off with me.

Already has been this morning, apparently.

That’s why she was cold with me, she said.

I didn’t notice.

She is grumpy quite often, so I started to ignore it.

As it was obviously not because of something I had done.

This time it was my doing.

I had a man staying over night.

And my parents are pissed off because they didn’t know.

Ha, I’m an adult.

So I feel I should have the freedom to do what I want to do.

But I’m also at my parent’s house.

So, I guess they have the right to know if I have a visitor.

But how to explain?

‘Hey, mom and dad, I’m going to have a man over tonight and there will be sexual acts performed. Is that ok?’

Ha, no way.

So I figured it’s best they don’t know.

However, now they know.

And we had a huge argument.

Their argumentation is all bullshit.

Dad: “I wanna know who he is … does he have a job?”

Mate, what has that to do with anything?

Dad: “As my daughter you have to introduce him to me and I need to see if I like him or otherwise I’ll kick him out!”

Dad, you are not the one supposed to have sex with him.

I am.

And then he rambled on that he’s an engineer bla bla bla and has a reputation.

Yeah, right, I know of your reputation, dad!

Oh, and then the argument went towards bullshit safety issues … that if they don’t know who that person is, I could be kidnapped … yeah right … in our house? With the Doberman roaming the grounds after 11pm?

Oh, and then they went off on a tangent about the flat I’m staying belonging to my brothers and there are marital beds bla bla bla … well one brother is not married yet, fyi.

All bullshit.

Aaanyway.

I knew I was pushing it.

So they come up with bullshit.

It’s funny.

They don’t know how to handle the situation.

They feel like they have to go into parent mode while I’m into teenage mode.

Fair enough.

Ha, and I’m pushing boundaries.

Teenage boundaries.

My dad pointed out that I don’t behave like an adult.

Lol, whose fault is that?

I’m a strange adult_kid hybrid in my parents’ house.

A house which by the way was also partly sponsored by my German mother so it’s also my house.

But none of it really matters.

I’ve been here a month and I feel it’s time to move on.

I feel I need to see more of Ghana.

And staying with two senior citizens is cute and I have no worries and get fed very well but obviously there are infinitely more experiences to explore.

It’s cosy (most of the time) but I’m getting itchy.

Bored.

Hence the boundary pushing.

Rebellion.

All good.

It’s actually a funny experience.

I have been offered the opportunity to go and do a 4h trek up Mt. Afadjato which is in the Volta region and the highest mountain in Ghana.

That region is also where my ‘tribe’, the Ewe, are from.

I’m totally up for that.

Going back back to my roots.

And I might even be able to attend a funeral.

Which are epic events here in Ghana.

It’s funny how my dad is all high and mighty here.

Back in Germany he impregnated a married woman.

My mom.

And then married her while already being married to my Ghanaian step mom.

Basically making my mum a cash cow.

Don’t preach to me about decency, asshole.

Whatever, none of this matters.

It simply shows me the urgency for onwards movement.

Great!

The path is set.

I’m jumping again.

Another tune to which to dance to.

My dad was already uneasy when I declared the other night I was going to stay with the Major, a guy I met on the plane to Takoradi.

But because that guy is in the military, dad didn’t say anything.

Fucking hypocrite.

But it bothered him, I know that.

So what?

It was fine for my dad to fuck around, but it’s obviously not fine for his daughter.

Small town talk.

They are so wrapped up in their perceived status.

They created their own little prison, sitting up on the balcony looking down on everyone, however, constantly worrying what other people might say about them.

What do you care what the neighbors think about you?

Most of them don’t like you anyway.

Because all you do is to complain about others and tell them off.

I’m done with that.

And it’s not about any of that.

I am basically ejecting myself.

Telling myself that it’s time to make a move.

Time to dance.

Moving on.

Yet … one thing which still boggles me is that my stepmom told on me.

Because at breakfast my dad was all chirpy.

He had no clue about my indisgression.

She betrayed me.

She could’ve told me directly.

Instead she caused more drama than necessary, knowing perfectly well that dad would go mental.

Meaning she forced it.

She needed to share her anger.

With him.

Sleeping with the enemy.

To cahoot.

So does she feel better now?

Maybe.

Interesting.

But it’s good.

I used to feel bad for her.

For all the shit dad had put her through.

For him taking his crazed violent outbursts out on her.

Now I don’t have to feel bad for her anymore.

Cool.

I thought we females in the house should have each other’s back.

Doesn’t seem the case.

At the end of the day, everyone makes their nest where they feel most comfortable.

Including me.

And I am free to walk away.

It will feel good.

To create space.

New adventures.