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User:Jessica/"The Day That Changed Everything"

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"The Day That Changed Everything"

Identity is a word that can have many meanings. Dictionary.com states, “Identity is a condition or character as to who a person or what a thing is.” In my own words, identity is all of the experiences one goes through that makes them who they are today. Identity is not something permanent, instead it can change drastically as a person gets older. Some experiences may make you stronger as a person, while others will make you feel weak. Either way, every experience will have an effect of your identity.

Within the past eighteen years, I have experienced a variety of different events and people whom have changed my life for both the better and the worse. I am a very caring girl, and I would much rather learn about someone else rather than discuss my own life. But I am not afraid to share my experiences. So here it goes. The story of my life. A story that will give you a sense of my identity. A sense of who I am today and why. If you don’t like it, well I’m sorry, but this is me; this is who I am, and this is what I have been through.

I could start out by telling you the basics in chronological order; but I don’t want to put you to sleep with the boring little things. Instead I think I will jump to an experience that I will always remember. This was the day that changed everything.

My parents had been divorced since I was about four years old. My mom had dated different guys, but none of these relationships seemed to last long. Until my mom met a new guy. Every weekend Mom would say she was going to “The Canoe Club.” I was very confused, I didn’t understand why she was going canoeing so late on a Friday or Saturday night. Soon I laughed at myself when I discovered that “The Canoe Club” was a local restaurant, owned by a man named Ed. They started seeing each other on a regular basis and everything was going well. He treated us like gold. When things started to get serious, my mom quit her job to help Ed with the restaurant. The three of us then bought a house together. The house was amazing, it was really the house that we always dreamed of, in ground swimming pool, hot tub, spiral staircase. Life seemed perfect!

Things soon changed. The joy that we felt soon came crashing down. Ed and my mother got married. About five years later, things started to change. First of all, the restaurant wasn’t doing so well. But I would never guess what was about to happen. I started to notice something different about my mother. She didn’t seem as happy and her relationship with my stepfather had completely changed. One day I noticed a large bruise on her arm. I asked Mom about it. She said she had tripped and fallen. I didn’t think much of it, things like that happen everyday. But soon I realized that this “story” was a lie. She began lying to me everyday about these mysterious bruises all over her body.

I finally worked up the courage to ask her, once again, about the bruises. I told her that I had a good idea of what was going on. I had the feeling that my stepfather was beating her. My mom eventually broke down crying and told me the truth. The harsh truth that he, in fact, was hitting my poor mother. I didn’t understand. How could a man hit her? What was he thinking? Why? Was there a reason? I begged my mom to tell me. Why was she dealing with this? Why hadn’t she told anyone? Thousands of questions came storming through my head. She made me promise not to tell anyone. She said soon she would go to the police but she had to wait for the right time. I kept my promise, hoping she would keep hers and get us some help. I wanted so badly to tell my dad. I knew he could help, but at the same time I didn’t want to break the promise that I made to my mom.

Everyday I would ask her if it was the right time. She promised it would be within the next week. These thoughts tore me apart. Everyday I had to look at my mother, knowing what that “man” was doing to her. I hated him. My mother wouldn’t leave me alone with him, she wasn’t sure what he was capable of doing.

It was a Thursday, and I had just gotten home from school. Normally I would be home alone for about three hours until my mom got home, and then Ed would return a few hours later. I was never alone with him. Mom said that tomorrow was the day, tomorrow she would go to the police and tell them everything. I was so happy, so happy that this nightmare would finally be over! Well, who would have known that tomorrow was going to be one day too late.

I was just sitting in my bedroom, doing homework. Then I heard the garage door open. I thought this was strange because my mom wasn’t due home for another hour or so. But I didn’t think much of it, instead I continued to do my homework. All of a sudden, my bedroom door flew open. It was him. That disgusting “man” was standing over me with a bright red face. Before I could say a word, he started yelling. His yelling had something to do with me not doing the dishes, or something stupid like that. I was so scared that I barely understood a word he was saying. I tried to get up and walk away, but that didn’t work. Instead he stopped me. He lifted his hand and swung at my face. I was lucky enough to duck and run past him. Down the stairs and out the front door I went. While running, I could hear the stomping of his boots behind me. I started running down our street, I looked back, only to see Ed getting into his Jeep. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. I saw a car coming towards me, I started to jump up and down, hoping they would stop. God must have been watching over me, because that car stopped and inside was one of my good friends. I was hysterically crying and couldn’t explain what was going on. I just told him to drive straight to the police station and to call my mom and have her meet us there.

Ed finally stopped following us and took off when he realized where we were headed. We arrived to the police station, and I told them everything! My mom was a mess, she couldn’t stop saying that this was her fault. I knew in my heart that this was in no way her fault, instead it was his, the jerk whom we thought was changing our lives for the better. My mother and I both got restraining orders against him and he was facing a long life of trouble. Neither of us have seen Ed since that awful day.

After this, mom and I sat down and she answered some of my questions. I discovered that she had found out about my stepfather having an affair with another woman. This woman didn’t know that he was married. The beating began when my mom threatened to tell his mistress what was really going on. Why did my mom want to wait to tell the cops? Well, because Ed threatened to hurt the rest of our family if she told anyone.

This experience had a big impact on my life. Ever since Ed, I’ve had trouble with trusting people. I trusted Ed with my life. He treated Mom and I well, and for five years he was a great stepfather. It just amazes me how a person could change so much. I’m not saying that I will never trust another person in my life. My point here is that Ed affected my identity. He changed the person that I used to be. Now I take extreme caution when meeting new people. I never trust someone right away, it takes a long time and a lot of work. I will never fully get that day out of my mind. I constantly picture him coming at me all over again. This story also goes to show you that you should never judge a book by its cover. When talking to me, I don’t seem like I’ve had a rough life. I’m a very happy person and I usually don’t share my story with many people. I felt this experience was a good example of my identity. I can only hope that maybe my story will help others in the future. When something isn’t right, tell someone! Don’t wait, because it may just be too late by the time you do. Jessica 15:07, 29 March 2007 (EDT)

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