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In previous years most children lived with a mom and a dad. My family, however, follows the most recent trend that says a family can be made up of whoever you choose.

My story starts the only place it can start; I was born. My mother was still in high school and my father had disappeared. My grandparents, insistent that my mother continue her education, kept us all under one roof and took care of me most of the time. After school was over for my mother, my father had re-entered the picture. My grandparents gave them one of their rental properties, adjacent to their own home, and continued to care for me as my parents worked to make ends meet.

Eventually my parents experienced deep financial issues. Years of alcoholism and domestic violence would follow. My mother was home with us, but my grandparents still provided me with a safe haven from the stresses of my broken home. They have often told me that I would come to them and sleep for hours because my body needed to recharge. After 10 years of putting up with my abusive father, my mother packed us up and decided to leave him. My grandparents took us in with open arms.

Later my mother moved us back into our old house and my father sobered up. Our relationships were still strained. My parents were being very selfish, fighting with each other all the time, and making choices with their lives that were hurting my sister and I. There were many nights that both of them would disappear leaving me scared and alone to look after my sister. They soon divorced. After unsuccessful attempts at living with both of them, I turned to my grandparents.

I finished high school with high honors while living at my grandparents home. My parents still tried to keep me down by pulling me into all of their problems. I decided that my post graduate goal was to move as far away from them as possible. I settled in NYC. Though I enjoyed the bustle of the city and being away helped me to heal, it was lonely and I actually began to miss my family...especially my grandparents.

When I returned home, my mother begged for me to try living with her. I agreed feeling that maybe we had all grown up enough and trying to rebuild our relationship could be nice. A month later, she and I had a bad argument. My step dad left in protest and refused to come back until I was gone. In all of this I really believed that there was something wrong with me. I got good grades, I had never been in trouble, I supported myself. Why did she feel the need to always belittle

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