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  Going to the park, the zoo, or going to get dinner with my family has always been a happy event for me. However, my family consists of my mom, my grandma, and my grandpa. My father, stepmother, and half-sister are not involved in my life. Once I was old enough to have social media, I would see my father and stepmother posting on Facebook, sharing the exciting events that they were doing with their family. Yet I was not there. Throughout my life, I always have known that my father is not what he should be. I know that he does not know me or have a desire to know me, even though he lives five minutes away. At a young age, I learned to accept this. I taught myself that my family was different, and I was okay with that. Yet once I got to high school, I learned I was not different. The majority of my friends have “broken” families, which in my opinion are not broken. They are just not the stereotypical family written about in books and shown in television shows. Although I always thought my family was unique by being “broken,” I quickly learned that I was not alone in my struggles once I reached high school.

     I do not know much about my parents’ relationship. I don’t know how they met, how long they were together, or anything that most children know. What I do know is this: my parents were engaged when they found out about me and by the time I was born, my father was with another woman. Almost exactly one year after I was born, I had a stepmother. I was only a year old, yet my father had started a new family. A family without me in it.

     Throughout my life, even when I was very young, I participated in many extracurricular activities. Ranging from soccer games, to academic showcases, to parent-teacher conferences, my father was never there. With my younger sister, he is always present. Later in life, I asked him why he never attended events that were special to me, that were about his oldest daughter. His response was always the same: “No one invited me.” At first I believed this and blamed my mom, then I caught him in his life full of lies. I was in Confirmation Classes at my church for two years and I had to make a project in order to be confirmed. I knew the showcase date well in advance. I decided that I wanted my father there, even though I was in eighth grade and he had barely attended any of my events, so I emailed him from my mom’s account and additionally texted him periodically. I always gave him too many chances to be a better person, a better father. I did everything I could to get my father to show up to my special event. When the night arrived, my father was nowhere to be seen. Most people would admit to their mistakes, but my father is not like most people. Instead he got mad at me, claiming that I had never invited him. Claiming that I had lied. He blamed his child for his own mistakes. The look on his face when I revealed I had emailed and texted him is unforgettable: he had been caught. This lead to our relationship changing.

     My father and I have very different beliefs on how a parent’s and child’s relationship should be structured. I believe that if you are the child, you should not have to be the one to act like an adult. I do not think that I should have to contact my father to arrange holidays or to invite myself to a dinner at his house, yet this is what he expects me to do. Because I do not, I do not see that side of my family. This has never been troublesome, but it made me always think I was different.

     Once I got to high school, I discovered that the majority of my class does not have their original set of parents. Be it that they are divorced, never married, or unknown, many of my friends do not have the stereotypical family seen in the media. This discovery left me scared: I was not special. My so-called unique childhood had been very similar to their childhoods. Their families, and my family, are “broken.”

     But is broken the right term? No. Simply because a child does not have their biological parents in the same house, does that mean that they are damaged? No. Does an adult have to be the biological parent to raise a child? No. We are not broken, we are not damaged, and we are cared for.

     To be completely honest, once I discovered I was not alone, I was upset. I thought that I had fought past something special, that I was stronger than others. But I was being told that I was not, that I was just the same. Could I really be the same?

     After talking to my friends from split families, I quickly learned two things. First: many families are separated. Second: both parents are usually still involved in their child’s life. Wait. That cannot be accurate. Both parents are involved? How could this be? After discovering this I realized that maybe I had a different life than most. Which lead me to be upset again. I had just finally come to terms that I was normal, and then I discovered that I was not.

     Now this sounds like I am trying to be special or better than others, but let me explain what has happened in my life and is currently happening. I was born on April 1, 2000. Since I was young, my father has always tried to buy my love, which in my opinion is wrong. I do not think that the root of love should be monetary. For my 13th birthday, my father got me a smartphone, but demanded that my mother never could touch it. There were so many strings attached to my phone that I now pay for one on my own. For my 16th birthday, my father got me a car, which I was not expecting as I do not fully agree with a 16 year old having their own car. This is yet another point where my father and I conflict.  He believes that because he got me a car, he does not have to initiate interaction with me. Instead, I should come groveling at his feet in gratitude. Thanking him for everything that he has done for me, including creating me. On my 17th birthday, this month, I was driving my family around to different parks and playing with my cousins. I was not on my phone. Because I did not respond to his “Happy Birthday Honey!” text right away, my mom got contacted by him. On my birthday, he attacked me and my mother. After many angry texts from him, he claimed that he was a horrible father in hopes of us telling him otherwise. Neither of us did. Since then, he has taken to Facebook and is painting me to be a bad person to his friends. At first this hurt.

     Then I realized something important: I know myself, my friends know me, my true family knows me. My father does not. He can say whatever he wants about me as I am stronger than him. I do not need to attack others to feel good about myself, which he has to do. I do not need to worry that I am different. I have a strong group of people surrounding me. A strong group that has gone through many of the same struggles as me. And they will protect and fight for me.

     After hearing about everything that has happened in my life, my friends agree that my situation is different from theirs. I agree.

     But that doesn’t mean that I can’t look at their experiences for help and comfort. In many ways they are stronger than me, they have had harder experiences. My parents have always been separated. My father has never been mature. My father has never been active in my life. I know how to live with how he is.

     Everyone has struggles in their lives. For many of the people in my life, a key struggle is not having a “complete” family. But our families are complete in their own way. From discovering I was not the only one to have a “broken” family I learned a very important idea: none of us are alone as long as we have each other.