My heart first broke when I was only eight years old. I can remember this night as nothing was ever the same after this. In my house, there was a constant loud yelling and furniture flying across the room. It was almost normal to me, a day without hearing that would be rare. But one night, things were different. It ended with the flashing red and blue lights of a police cars parked outside my house. I can remember sitting on my window sill with hot tears running down my cheeks and the feeling of heaviness in my chest.
It all started when I was abruptly woken up from the sound of glass smashing into a million pieces on the hardwood floors. I could hear my parents fighting and they were yelling louder than usual. As routine calls, I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs as fast as I could to stop the fight. At the bottom of the staircase was the vase that my dad had given my mom on her birthday and it was completely annihilated. I tip-toed around the glass making sure I wouldn't cut myself. I followed the screaming voices of my parents into the kitchen. As I entered, I saw that my parents were being very belligerent towards each other, almost physically fighting. This always put me through so much agony. I tried to get into the middle, begging and pleading in hopes that they would stop. My parents persisted the fighting. I looked into their eyes and I couldn't see my parents. Their eyes were vacant, only filled with malevolence and hatred. My dad tried to move me out of the way but ended up pushing me so I fell off. My mom increasingly angry at him and everything became more heated. I remember feeling traumatized and hot tears were now streaking my face. I ran upstairs and called 911.
The next thing I can remember was being told by the police that everything was going to be okay. I was also informed that my parents no longer wished to be together, they were getting a divorce. I know your heart doesn't actually break but it felt like my heart did. I felt as broken as my heart did. I felt very lonely as I thought no one can relate to me. Both my parents were too busy being belligerent towards each other and weren't there for me. I felt envious of my friends as they were happy with a loving family that was still together. I started to despise myself, blaming that the whole divorce was all my fault. I would run scenarios in my head of how I could have done things differently. Maybe if I hadn't called the police, my parents would still be together. I became very depressed where people surrounding me noticed a drastic change. I was no longer talkative and my grades began to fall. Soon enough, I was forced into counselling. I was very reticent at first. I believed that if I didn't recognize the situation, then hopefully it would just go away and disappear. I also did not want to talk about what is happening as I did not want to re-live some horrible events I had witnessed. I was engulfed by darkness for many months.
Things eventually began to change for me when my parents started to heal themselves. My mom stopped crying everyday. I woke up one day to the smell of fresh pancakes and the sound of my mom singing. She was happier than I've ever seen before. It was to a point where I thought we no longer needed the lights in our house as my mom's smile was so bright. My dad no longer was in bed for most of the days, and we were able to stay at his new house for longer periods of time. My dad started telling those lame jokes that only dads would tell, for example:
"Dad, I am hungry!!"
"Hi hungry, I am dad!"
No one laughed at the jokes louder than my dad did, and my brother and I would give him a few pity laughs. Seeing my parents heal and how much happier they were apart, I finally accepted the divorce. I took advantage of the wonderful support system I had. I started to talk to my counsellors on how I was feeling and what problems I were having. Together, we were able to find solutions and teach me how to deal with certain situations. I grew into a stronger person as I knew how to face adversity. I never feared any challenges and I learned how to become content with life.
The language and grammar that you use in this essay is casual yet respectful. It is reflectively written and takes the reader into your world as a child. I am just wondering what the point of the story is because you did not provide a prompt for it. There is a sense that too much time was spent on creating the back story of the essay rather than talking about how the violent events that normally occurred in your life affected you mentally, emotionally, physically, and socially. This essay should be a reflection of your growth as a person and how you changed in order to deal with what was happening. Show the reader how these events all added up to help you become the responsible person that you are today. Dwell on the past just a bit, but use it as an inspiration to tell us about how you became the person you are now because of it. The portion about how you dealt with the change in your life is simply too short and does not reflect any real direction for change or guidance on the part of the people you came to for help and advice.
