“Rebellion (noun) refusal to accept some authority or code or convention”
Being an adult I don’t expect to be told what to do, however being an adult you have to work and at work we are told what to do. We all answer to someone even if you are self-employed; you answer to the tax man. If you are unemployed you answer to the benefit agencies. It’s human nature not to like being told what to do so we occasionally bend the rules; we rebel. We lie to our boss on a Monday morning explaining we are ill and for effect add a ‘poorly cough’ when really we just cannot be bothered to go work. Classic rule break, we are refusing to accept the code of an honest absence. Throughout our lives we break rules and usually we get away with it, because who are we hurting if we fain an illness once in a blue moon?
It’s when we break the big rules in life that make a difference. If we commit a serious crime we are sent to prison thus changing the course of our lives and not for the better. My rebellion changed my life. I rebelled against matrimony and defied the vows I made. I know that leaving a marriage and getting divorced is not a rebellion, people get married and divorced every day. However my rebellion broke a very important rule.
I had many rules in my marriage that were set by my abusive husband, I later learnt that all violent partners have these rules. They can range from the very trivial like having their tea made at a certain time to the more serious; breaking the silence or leaving the emotional prison they have taken an age to build. I often broke the trivial rules because it was natural to do so. I would roll odd socks together after being washed so he had to root through his drawer to find the matching one or if I was lucky, he wouldn’t notice and go out wearing odd socks. I would have the pleasure of knowing this and I’m not going to lie, that pretty pathetic trick gave me satisfaction. However, when I broke his rules there would be consequences. They say every action has an equal or greater reaction. Because I had refused to comply with his beliefs, I would be punished. I had to be put back in my place, rules had to be reinstated. What amuses me the most now is that I didn’t actually know what his rules were? Ultimately, I couldn’t do right for doing wrong.
I had to leave. I was so emotionally and physically tired I didn’t even pack. I stood ready to unlock my front door clutching my keys unable to move because I realised, if I leave he will kill me. The ultimate punishment to fit the crime I was going to commit. I realised there and then that I didn’t care, I had to be away from him and if he did kill me then he wouldn’t have me any more. It was a win-win situation. I walked and started my new life, I was free. Rebellion gave me happiness and freedom. Being rebellious doesn’t sound so bad now does it?