I have talked to my dad only twice in the last seven years, and those two conversations ended badly. Our relationship has not been the same since I moved out when I was 17 and went to live with my mom. While I regret that my dad and I don’t have a better relationship, I don’t regret leaving.

Before I was a year old, my parents got divorced. My older brother Parker and I lived with my dad, who had received primary custody because mom’s job moved her around a lot. Both my mom and dad remarried within the next couple years. Eventually, Parker chose to live with mom because he and my stepmom fought all the time. Then a new baby was welcomed into our home, giving me a younger half-sibling. It was in the next couple years that things changed for me. I found myself wondering why I always seemed to be on the outside of our supposedly happy family. My dad showed some affection toward me, but not as frequently or with as much enthusiasm as my younger brother received. Admittedly, I was a little jealous of my brother because he always seemed to get whatever he wanted. This secluded feeling continued throughout the 17 years I stayed with my dad.

I met Mark my sophomore year of high school. He was a senior and the first guy who had shown a real interest in me. We began dating in January and by summer, Mark and I became really close and I was pretty sure that one day I would marry him. Before he left for college, we had sex for the first time. My stepmother, who throughout my life was notorious for looking through my drawers to find out information about me, somehow learned that Mark and I had had sex.

Turmoil ensued. Mark and I were forbidden to see each other or even speak to each other. My dad and stepmom set up a meeting with Mark’s parents to talk about the situation. Later, Mark’s dad brought him to our house to discuss what was going to happen. It was humiliating. My parents said they were holding each other back from actually attacking Mark. They told us we had betrayed their trust. They also mentioned they could press charges for statutory rape because Mark was 18 and I was 16, or they could get a restraining order.

The outcome was a set of new guidelines. Mark and I were not to see each other. We could have monitored e-mails, and in December we would revisit the issue and maybe we would get to see each other again. In hindsight, I think my parents were trying to show me that I was better off without a serious relationship, but I don’t think they handled it very well. I gave my parents all my passwords and user names to any e-mails or social-networking sites I had. At night I was allowed to read Mark’s e-mails. This went on for a couple weeks, then suddenly my parents told me I had to break up with Mark because they didn’t think the arrangement was working out. Mark and I had done everything they had asked us to do, and we weren’t sneaking around, so I didn’t understand how it wasn’t working.

During the next couple months, I rebelled in secret. My dad and stepmom told my teachers I was not allowed to use the Internet. I had my best friend create an account for me, and she typed e-mails to Mark for me. I was forbidden to go or do anything besides school, work and basketball. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom, and ended up working at the grocery store that night, but my boss and co-workers managed to get me a dress, makeup, and even a date so I could go for an hour. I was afraid of what my parents would do if they found out about my rebellions. My room, work and school became my sanctuaries. I loved being around friends, who offered their shoulders almost daily for me to cry on. And every day when I got home, I would go straight to my room, avoiding my parents as much as possible. I felt like I lived in a jail.

During this time I also had weekly phone calls with my mom. She was living in Tennessee, and after my dad and stepmom went back on their original guidelines, I called to tell her what was going on. She reacted in a completely different way. She wasn’t happy that I’d had sex, but she told me that I was the one who had to live with my actions and she didn’t know Mark so she wouldn’t judge him. She worried about me. I spent hours crying on the phone with her. One time she even asked if I was thinking of committing suicide.

In the middle of my junior year, I decided I wanted to live with my mom. I wrote my dad a letter and told him I was leaving, and I left it in his truck. The next day I had a note in my car from him. He told me he didn’t agree with my decision, and that I had to stay until the end of school because I was not going to ruin my education, too.

The last day of my junior year, my 17th birthday, I packed up my stuff and left my dad’s house. My parents and I had discussed me leaving when my mom came to pick me up, but I did not want to wait two more days. When my dad got home on my birthday I told him I was leaving and staying with my grandparents until my mom came, but he told me I couldn’t leave yet. Later, everyone left the house, and I immediately called my mom. She told me I had to follow my heart and do what I thought was right. Something clicked. I realized that even though I had made decisions that my dad didn’t agree with, I had followed my heart. That thought ran through my head as I loaded up my entire life in my car. I remember running down the stairs with boxes and stumbling back up the stairs for more. I desperately wanted to be gone before anyone returned home. I thought if someone came home they would stop me, or worse, I would chicken out and not go.

In the days and months that followed, I settled into life in Tennessee. Mark and his family had helped drive my stuff to Tennessee, and my mom got to know Mark. It was hard to allow myself to get to know my stepdad because I was so afraid he would think I had messed up my life, too. Eventually, I did open up and he has shown me you don’t have to be the perfect child for a parent to be proud of you. Mark and I continued our relationship throughout the three years I spent in Tennessee. I finished high school and graduated from Pellissippi, a community college in Knoxville, Tenn.

In 2004 Mark and I were married in our hometown of Burlington, Kan. My dad did not attend, even though he was invited. I went to see him before beginning school at KU that fall. He was upset because Mark and I had put a marriage announcement in the paper. I don’t think he ever understood the huge mix of emotions I felt right before walking down the aisle. Part of me was sad and disappointed, but another part was relieved. We’ve both hurt each other, and I’ve sent a letter apologizing for not trying harder to communicate and for hurting him. I think he is waiting for the day when I will come back and tell him he was right all along and I am leaving Mark. But that won’t happen. I love Mark, and we’ve been happily married for four years. I cannot apologize for that, and I hope someday my dad will accept that I made the decisions that were right for me.