Shiny, Black Boots

I don’t like when people tell me what to do. 

And no one really does, I know. No one wants to be ordered around. But unlike most, I really show it. Ask my mother: when she tried to ask me to color when I was young, I would throw the crayons and walk away. Ask my fiancée: if he even suggests that I do something, like don’t eat chips before dinner, I don’t listen and I actually do the opposite (eat the whole bag). 

I have a little problem with authority. 

Why? Where does it come from? That’s the tricky part because it baffles me too. I’m not really a rebel without a cause. I didn’t make trouble in school. I hardly stepped a toe out of line.

 I have just always wanted to do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it (and still do.) And the devil may take anyone who says otherwise (says me). 
But imagine my surprise when now that I’m an adult, I’m the authority for others. And how uncomfortable that makes me. Partly because I know how much I hate authority but also because it scares me. (Want to know your true power? Be placed as an authority figure for kids. Most of them are so unquestioning of you that they’ll walk across hot coals before they notice their feet are burning.)

And I have to wonder if that’s necessarily a good thing. That I resisted authority only to become authority myself. If we shouldn’t all try to resist someone telling us what to do with our lives…well, for the rest of our lives. 

I guess in the end we all become a part of the authority life cycle. As we grow, we have to listen to ourselves as authorities of ourselves. (Talk about a catch 22!) And ultimately, decide if we can resist resisting. 

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