Amber Smith’s The Way I Used to Be charts the aftershocks of rape with unblinking clarity, following Eden McCrorey from freshman to senior year as secrecy corrodes her life and voice slowly returns. The novel’s thematic web—trauma, identity, power, and voice—unfolds across ordinary spaces (a bedroom, a hallway, a classroom) to show how one violent night reshapes every relationship and choice. What emerges is a study in survival: messy, nonlinear, and ultimately hopeful.
Major Themes
Trauma, Silence, and Secrecy
The most dominant current is the suffocating grip of Trauma, Silence, and Secrecy. After Kevin Armstrong assaults Eden, denial becomes her first shield, then her cage, reinforced by his threat and by the world’s misreadings—like Vanessa McCrorey mistaking blood for a first period and calling it “this mess.” The bed that should soothe becomes a crime scene; the secret festers, isolating Eden and altering the map of her life.
Identity and the Loss of Self
Because silence demands a mask, Identity and the Loss of Self emerges as Eden dismantles “the way I used to be.” She abandons old anchors—band, Mara, familiar routines—and constructs a new exterior of contacts, clothes, and confidence that finally draws notice from Josh Miller. Yet the makeover is armor, not healing; beneath the surface, Eden feels hollow, performing a self that can’t quiet what the secret erodes.
Control and Powerlessness
Rape is an absolute seizure of agency, and Control and Powerlessness traces Eden’s efforts to reclaim her body and choices. She sets the rules with Josh—no labels, no public, no vulnerability—as a way to manage risk and contain intimacy. Later, she seeks a different power through casual sex, initiating encounters to flip the script even as they deepen her emptiness, revealing how survivors can chase control in both protective and self-destructive ways.
Healing and Finding One’s Voice
The novel’s arc bends toward Healing and Finding One’s Voice, where speaking becomes both rupture and repair. Years of silence imprison Eden and shield her attacker; her first confession—a written note to Josh—cracks the secret’s surface. When she finally tells Caelin McCrorey and reports to the police, validation reframes her story: the past stands, but the narrative—hers—changes.
Supporting Themes
Family Dynamics and Dysfunction
A suburban veneer masks a household unable to name hard truths, making silence easier to keep. Vanessa avoids discomfort, Eden’s father stays distant, and Caelin serves as fragile glue; together they form an environment where secrets can thrive. This dysfunction amplifies trauma and secrecy while delaying the conditions necessary for voice and healing.
Friendship and Betrayal
Eden’s withdrawal frays her bond with Mara, illustrating how secrecy drains intimacy and breeds resentment. Caelin’s early loyalty to Kevin over his sister registers as a wound that compounds the initial violation, while Eden’s complicated ties with Josh and Steve Reinheiser show how mistrust and fear of vulnerability warp attachment. Only when Josh returns as a steady friend does Eden find a bridge toward voice and repair.
Appearance vs. Reality
Public narratives often privilege comfort over truth: Kevin appears heroic; Eden’s makeover reads as confidence; both are misdirections. The history project with Steve on Columbus makes the point explicit—myth can mask harm—mirroring how a “good guy” reputation cloaks predation. This theme undergirds secrecy and challenges identity work, insisting that recovery requires piercing the surfaces others prefer.
Theme Interactions
Silence grows from trauma, then sustains it; voice interrupts that loop. Identity fractures under secrecy, then tentatively integrates as power is reclaimed and truth is spoken. Appearances smooth over discomfort, but the act of telling breaks that polish and reorients relationships around reality.
- Trauma & Silence → Voice & Healing: The assault births secrecy; disclosure punctures isolation and initiates recovery.
- Powerlessness → Control: Boundaries with Josh model protective agency, while casual hookups stage a risky, hollow performance of power.
- Loss of Self → Reinvention → Integration: The tough exterior defends but divides; healing demands folding the “before” and “after” into a more honest whole.
- Appearance ↔ Reality: Reputation obscures harm; once Eden speaks, the façade around Kevin and around her own “act” can no longer hold.
Character Embodiment
Eeden McCrorey embodies the book’s full arc: trauma mutates into secrecy, identity splinters, and control is pursued through both careful rules and self-sabotage until voice begins to knit a new, integrated self. Across four years, her choices map the cost of silence and the courage of telling.
Kevin Armstrong personifies predatory power and the camouflage of reputation. His threat—“no one will ever believe you”—weaponizes appearance vs. reality, enforcing the silence that keeps him protected and others at risk.
Josh Miller represents tentative safety and consent-driven intimacy. Eden’s rules with him illustrate protective control; his return and quiet steadiness help convert secrecy into voice, modeling how supportive relationships can midwife healing.
Caelin McCrorey stands at the fault line of family and betrayal. His initial trust in Kevin deepens Eden’s isolation, but his eventual belief and advocacy mark a turning point where familial dysfunction loosens and voice is amplified.
Vanessa McCrorey embodies well-meaning but harmful avoidance. Her misreading of evidence and quick move to a convenient narrative show how parental discomfort can seal a child’s silence.
Mara traces friendship’s vulnerability to secrets: without language for pain, loyalty frays. Their rupture underscores how isolation is both a symptom of trauma and a barrier to recovery.
Steve Reinheiser highlights appearance vs. reality and Eden’s search for power. Their project’s truth-telling theme contrasts with Eden’s use of sex as control, revealing how intellectual clarity can coexist with emotional confusion.
Amanda Armstrong signals the wider harm of Eden’s silence and Kevin’s impunity. Learning of other victims transforms Eden’s private pain into moral urgency, propelling her toward disclosure and the first steps of justice.