Real World Case – Personal Essay
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There I sat: a young girl in braided pigtails and overalls, oblivious to the “real world,” fishing alongside a canal. The world was such a beautiful place. I had a loving family and friends who were always near me when I needed them the most. I also possessed plenty of clothes, toys, and pets. What more could I ask for, life was grand!
As years passed, my perspective began to change. My parents constantly fighting had crushed my dream world. I realized my mother was in an abusive home. How could I have been unaware of the agony my step-father caused my mother all this time? Why did not she simply take her and me away? Was this my fault?
Waking up in the middle of the night to the roars of my mother and step-father fighting over circumstances I could not understand. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I squeezed my cat (Jody) tighter each night. He was my comfort making me feel secure when he was there to listen. When Jody was not near me, I would turn to my CD player, maxing out the volume to tune out my parents screams.
Quarreling for my mother and step-father became routine. I do not believe they realized how much it affected me. I never brought my friends home for fear they would arrive only to find my parents arguing. I would solely socialize with my friends at their houses or at the nearby parks. I never wanted to be home, nor did I want any else in my house. Once home, I would greet whoever was visible and head to my room to quickly complete my homework. Once finished, I would go outside or go to the park to play softball or basketball.
I always focused in school, hoping after my high school graduation to earn enough money to get my mother and me away from this mayhem. My mother cleaned houses for minimum wage pay. Always with a kind heart, my mother is still a beautiful person whom I deeply admire. I can never find a flaw in her; she is perfect in my eyes.
I constantly contemplated why my step-father was always irate with my mother. My step-father was a carpenter. He worked Monday through Friday to keep the bills paid. When he came home, he always went directly to the refrigerator. After grabbing a beer, he would sit on the couch to watch Judge Judy or Cops. Ironically enough, my step-father enjoyed those kinds of shows because the offenders of violent crimes were always brought to justice.
By the time my mother arrived, about 6 PM, my step-father was already overly intoxicated and demanding dinner. My mother would always kiss him hello and ask about his day while making dinner over the stove. My step-father always had a hasty and rude answer like, “Why do you care cunt?” or “Does it matter bitch?” that quickly ended their conversation, until he found something more to yell about. The nights went on perturbed for several months until my step-father finally lashed out.
On an ordinary night around 7 PM, my drunken step-father was sitting on the couch watching television as my mother came into the house. He did not utter a word as she walked in, even after my mother said hello. As usual, mother went about her business in the kitchen. I walked in, said hello to her and was told we would have spaghetti for dinner. My mother told me she would shout when dinner was ready, and to wait in my room in the meantime.