When I was younger everyone seemed to think that they could walk all over me just because I was nice. A few people treated me kindly, but few that treated me as an equal. Most of the time I got ran all over at home. Friends of my mom would come in and treat me like a little servant, and she would not say anything. She was just as guilty of treating me that way as they were. Mom would always make me clean her room, make her bed and vacuum her ceiling and floor once a week. I was expected to do all the cleaning and let her take all the credit for it when people saw how nice the house looked. I just lived with the feeling of being taken for granted. I took care of Dakota every day. I had to get him up and cook him breakfast and get him dressed for school all while Mom slept. Then at the end of the day it never failed that she would insult me. Even after all the work I had done she called me fat and lazy. By the time I was 13 years old all of the years of being pushed had filled me up so much I was about to over flow. As I entered our house one day after school at about 4 in the afternoon, Mom began yelling at me. She was right up in my face saying, “Chelsea, put your books down. You need to do the dishes. Oh, and why did you not wash all the clothes last night? I just cannot believe how lazy you are. You do not think of anyone but yourself. You are so selfish!”
At that point I snapped like a twig under an elephant’s foot. I could have snapped at anyone, but mom was the one that pushed me when I was full to the brim. At that very moment, I looked her square in the eye and said, “No! It is your room and your mess, so you do it! You have been home all day while I have been at school. You should have done what needed to be done. You are not going to push me around anymore. No one will push me around anymore!”
Finished with my spurt of rage, I was filled with a refreshing relief. I was still standing toe to toe with my mom at the front door, but I felt like I was 10-foot tall.
Seconds later I was stunned, I had heard the crack of skin against skin before I registered the pain across my face. My head was tilted sideways, she had smacked me hard. She had no idea of what else to do. I stood there in the door way with the door still open and thought for a minute about all the events that just happened. My face hurt but I had won our little fight. Looking in her eyes, I could see she was flabbergasted by the fact that her little girl had stood up to her for once. After pondering about our entire scene a little longer, I smiled and went to my room. When entering my room I noticed that every part of my room seemed brighter and extravagant. I was a new person, and from then on I refused to let anyone walk on me like a doormat.