I was abused by my parents and family for 20 years in a variety of ways. The last straw for me, however, was when I had my appendix removed.

I had moved out of my parents' house so often, but I was always pulled (or pushed) back in. I felt like I could never fully escape, that I could never sever the chains that bound me.

When I got back home from my surgery, I had to be in bed for about a week. My parents chose this time to wrest control over me back into their favor.

One evening, perhaps a day or two after my surgery, I angrily got out of bed, tearing my stitches. I crawled to the living room where my parents were happily enjoying a meal. Mom gaped, "OH! I am SOOO sorry!!!" and got me a bowl. Dad just stared at the TV. They had conveniently "forgotten" to feed me, which slowed my recovery.

I made plans to leave shortly after. I applied to a school across the country and, while I originally wanted to ride my bike to get there, a friend convinced me to wait a week as she wanted to buy me a bus ticket.

In unplanned cliche fashion, I embarked on this journey on my birthday. Two and a half days straight on a series of Greyhound buses.

The risk was that I started on my journey without knowing I was accepted into the school I chose. I started on this journey without knowing I was accepted for financial support. I was fully prepared to be homeless as long as I got away from those awful, awful people.

As the Greyhound entered the city my university was located, I got two emails. The emails congratulated me for my acceptance into the university and my acceptance into the loan program. As I was already beaten down and exhausted, these emails really gave me hope for a brighter future.

I went on to complete my BS and MS and I am relatively successful now. I still struggle, of course, with the aftermath of my abuse, but I made a decisive effort to remove myself from the toxic atmosphere at great risk.

My brothers, however, were not so lucky. We actually irreparably drifted further apart because one of the first things I did was go to therapy so I could process my abuse and get some understanding in. When I shared my understanding with my brothers, they wouldn't have it (as they were still under my parents' influence). This damaged our relationship because I wanted to grow and learn and grow separate of them. To this day, I do not regret the loss of my relationship with my brother. My freedom came at a cost. I still kept in touch with them but, post graduation. I found that they were telling my parents vital information about me - where I lived, where I worked. My father had threatened me when I was an undergrad, and this visceral breach of trust completely ended my relationship with my brothers.

I don't regret my decisions because I am free. I am happy.