Sleep and Saturday Nights

I had never thought the day would come where I would be scared to tears of sleeping in the comfort of my own home. I was clueless on what to do for the next month and continued to worry every night, fearing that it was not yet over or that it would occur again. Sleepless nights had become a routine; something that started off naturally to fearing for my life. Saturday nights have always been a day where the whole family would go out to dinner and enjoy each other’s pleasant company; talking about school, work, or anything from the ordinary “I bought these shoes from this store”. I had been happy that day because the week had been going so well for me and everything that was just the way I wanted it. I thought that nothing could ruin the happiness in me, no matter what conflict. I felt invincible to the outer world; nothing could bring me down. Dinner ended with a comforting goodbye with hugs and kisses from Grandpa to Grandma. This was how every weekend ended, and it felt good.
We drove home and I was ecstatic for the next weekend. I looked out wondering where we would go next. Once we arrived at the garage of our house, I felt a strange sensation rush through my body. Something was not the way it was before; I just did not know what. For one thing, the lamp on the front of the house was lit even when we were about two-hundred feet away. Usually the light flashes on when a presence is confronted near the garage. Something was wrong.
We reached the front porch as my father struggled to find the right key. As we entered the door, I was ready to kick off my shoes and head to my room to change into comfy clothing until my seven year old sister gasped in shock. This was when I was certain that I was right. “Our backyard window is broken!” I stopped in the middle of the hallway. “What happened?” was all I could manage to sputter out, but I already knew the answer. The couch was flipped over and the TV was gone. Being only thirteen at the time, I thought their main intention was to hurt me and my family, not to steal. My first thoughts were, “How could they do this? Why do they want to hurt us? What did we do to them?” Tears flew down my face before I could even realize that I was crying. Lying in bed was the hardest to do. I feared that the evil man was hiding somewhere in our home, waiting for an opportunity to hurt us. The thought made me nauseous. Even with the cops filing a report for the robbery did not alleviate my mind. I swear I could not even close my eyes for a mere ten seconds without fluttering my lids back up in fear. This went on for the next few days. After about a week had passed, I managed to sleep for at the least two hours before waking up again. I realized that I was not the only one affected by this and that my whole family was struggling, too. The family dinner nights had stopped and we would go out once every two months or so. The comfort of my friends and family helped me go through the sleepless nights of trembling and worrying. They would call me on the phone and talk about funny things to get my mind off of the incident and soon I would be tired enough to fall asleep. Through little process, I was becoming better again. This traumatizing conflict, though horrifying, has changed me into the person I am today. I realize that something always benefits from the bad, even if it is something small. I struggled to be the person I used to be, but I have changed for the better. I feel like I can overcome the harder obstacles that life may throw at me. Even though life can be hard, with any kind of conflict, it aides to strive you to become stronger. Who knows what kind of person you can develop into for the better.