A few years ago, if you would have asked me if I would ever speak to my father again, I would have told you no. I would have desperately clung to that answer, and if you tried to question me, I would feel like you were attacking my credibility. Now, I call my father at least once a week to check in. Despite what happened, and the bad habits that he still has, I know that he loves me. I cannot say the same for other members of my family, but because I can trust his intentions I was able to let him back into my life. The problem that I have with my siblings (except my sister) and my mother is that I know that everything they apologize for will happen again next week. It is as if life is in a constant state of rewinding and fast forwarding the same events with minor details or varying levels of severity and impact. Due to the nature of that, I had to cut off contact. Yes, it was one of the hardest things that I have had to do in my life, but I knew that those relationships were destructive for everyone involved. I wanted to evolve and they were in a constant state of turmoil. I still love them and think about them, even in my times of greatest joy, but I know that I couldn't share this because I wouldn't be here if they were still in my life. Everyone made me feel guilty for deciding to attend Stanford. They said I thought I was better than them. I didn't think that. I just didn't want to get caught up in their bad habits and keep living as a reaction to what was being done to me. That is why when I see my father let my brothers back into his home, after they have caused him so much physical harm, I become so sad. It is always the same. The same story in repeat. Fast forward to the same resulting altercations. Yet each time, the results become exponentially more serious. I wish I could just press pause and rearrange some details. But hey, that's life and I'll never get a remote control, no matter how convenient it would be.