Replies to 'The Meaning of "Family"'

Recently I became an American Citizen with my father and his wifes help. Granted they have done lots for me, and I feel that I probably owe them more than I would like to admit. Being at the age of twenty-three I somewhat feel like a moucher, but really deep in my heart I know that I need this help.  I guess Ill tell you how it began... 

Living in Canada most of my life I would of told you that my family was normal. We made up a household of two daughters, one dog, and one cat and occasionaly the older daughters boyfriend. Abou the time that my sister turned 16 (I was 10) she got pregnant. I think it disapointed many people in my family, but the child that was brought into the world was adored. (Robert now at the age of 11 who still lives with my mother.)  

After my sisters pregnancy my parents marriage started to fall apart. (Not because of my sister.) My mother soon packed up all her belongings and moved, leaving me to live with my father. This was probably around the age of 13 for me. 4 years later at the ripe age of 17, and although I may never know why, my father packed up and left me. At 17 I had to get my own place and learn how to live on my own. Up until about two years ago I was doing okay. Right about the time that I met a man named Ali Mohamad. Being of a muslim descent our religious beliefs started to contrast largely, and the more that I stuck behind my faith the more it became dangerous for me to be there. My daily life, with him became one of torture, abuse, rape and lonlieness that I can't even begin to describe. Finally hitting rock bottom, laying on the floor bleeding and sobbing, I called my friend and had her pick me up. I took what my hands could carry with me, I was 21..and I had nothing all over again.  

Life after that became seperated in to two halves, the life before Ali, and the life after. I was hurt, I was lost and I was scared. He began to persue me in a stalking manner, coming to my work and leaving white roses for me. Calling me at all hours of the night and finally finishing with breaking into my apartment and raping me one last time. All I could do was turn to a friend "Harley" at the time. If it were not for him I don't know what I would of done. He saved my life in more ways than one, but I grew to love him. Unfortunately Harley suffered from a great addiction to crack cocaine. Let the record show I don't pick the right men to be in my life.  Slowly as I became tempted and lured into the glamour of the drug filled haze I came to a point. It was a point where in my heart I knew "He will love me just a little more if I do crack with him...." I have to tell you as a little girl growing up that wasn't what I said I inspired to be.   

At the end of my rope I called my father. Sobbing I was lost, perhaps I still am. I said I needed help, and to my surprise he came and got me. I don't know why, but I thought that I could count on him. I thought that if no one else I could trust my father. I was  wrong...again. Moving in with him and his wife to gain my American Citizenship was a bad idea. My life suddenly did not become my own, I was beholdent to another, trapped by their decisions. Suddenly they decided that I couldn't do anything without them. Even now I feel like an animal caged with no way out. It doesn't seem to be like I have someone in which I can discuss this with, someone that would understand this feeling of complete devistation and entrapment. I guess my mind started to fall apart, because as of May 17th 2006, an arguement arose. One that grew from the idea of me taking on a second job. No way no how was I going to do this in their eyes. Ironic but I hadn't asked for their oppinion or their help with this second job. I felt that I could do it, and I was growing restless, I needed another outlet in which to gain some freedom. Up until this point, I had done exactly what they had asked me to, I cleaned the house from top to bottom weekly, and picked up after everyone daily. I became what my father's wife described me as Cinderella. So when they opposed my new job, I stated rather bluntly it was my life. It was the first time I felt I had the right to say so. This threw my father into a rage that scares me to think of. He grabbed me violently pressing his fingers deep into  my arms and threw me against the couch never letting me go, picking me up and throwing me against the couch. I was scared, it was being with Ali all over again. Now I'm somewhere safe, and by safe I mean around the corner from him. I have pressed charges and although I am devestated I don't hate my father. I love him, probably more than anyone else. But now I'm an orphan...and the people that I had grown to love I am no longer aloud to assosciate with because I pressed charges. I was told that they would press charges anyways due to the marks on my arms. Everyone is making me out to be the bad guy and all I wanted was people I could count on. Someone to call family, and a new start on life. I don't think that I will ever have that...I don't know what to do and I feel so lost. Do I drop the charges and forgive him completely? Or do I hold him accountable for his actions and let be what is ...?