Over the past year I became a Green Bay Packers fan. Now why would a girl from Scarsdale, N.Y., care about this team from a little town in Wisconsin, and much less be on the brink of tears in the last two minutes of the Super Bowl with the Pack only up by three and Pittsburgh in possession of the ball? Whenever I was asked this question I would just give the short answer “I got it from my Daddy,” but now, finally, I am ready to give the real answer.

In high school when I started dating my boyfriend, who happened to be a good football player, my dad and I could bond over watching his games, but beyond the camaraderie and a common subject to talk about, football never really meant anything to us.

Even though football was not our initial bond, I have always been a daddy’s girl. We loved spending time together and we always had a special place in each other’s hearts. After I went off to college and matured as a person, so did our relationship. We started to create an even stronger friendship as two mature adults. I idolized him, and in my eyes he could do no wrong.

That was until November 2009. In the fall, during my sophomore year I broke up with my longtime boyfriend and was constantly falling ill, and one time I sounded bad enough for my father to come up and take care of me. Before he left to go home, he told me that he had moved out of my house back in September, and that he and my mother were separating. This came as a complete shock to me, and all but shattered me completely.

While my brother started to check out of our family and envelope himself in his world of friends, I dove into the divorce. I was so hurt by them, and for some reason, I immediately blamed my father. On the surface, it was about how he had failed to tell me he moved out when he actually did; deep down, my intuition told me he was the one I should be taking my anger out on, even if I had no real idea why.

Thanksgiving 2009 was a brutal blowout, as I went round after round screaming and cursing at my father. My mother, after months of dealing with it and losing 30 pounds due to stress, was so weak that at the end of the night all we could do was hold each other as we cried.

I got through finals as best I could and went back home to deal with the disaster that was my family. Just as I was starting to heal and tolerate my father again, my mother broke the news that my father had been cheating on her with a woman who he had known from his childhood in Miami. Finally, I completely broke.

There were a lot of feelings and emotions that went through me that I am still working through. I kept a facade up of handling myself, but on the inside I hated everything and everyone; nothing mattered anymore.

That summer I could not go home. The prospect of facing reality and dealing with what I was experiencing was just too great to bear. I decided to stay at school and take a class about the history of sports in the United States. I used it as a way to distract myself and focus my attention on something else, but I also fell in love with the subject.

I read everything about NFL history that I could, and spent my afternoons in the Uris library stacks reading old Sports Illustrateds. When I did stop, reality came back to me, and with the help of technology my parents could get to me whenever they wanted. They would cc me in their nasty e-mail exchanges, and we would get into epic screaming matches over the phone.

That summer was rough, but by the end my father and I started to talk again. The conversations were mostly facilitated by what I was learning in class, and sports in general. When he asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told him that I wanted to go to a pro football game.

During that time I had started learning about the 1960's Green Bay Packers and their larger than life head coach, Vince Lombardi. I loved how a small town found their identity, purpose and strength through rallying around their football team. Green Bay had supported and loved the Packers ever since Curly Lambeau started a team made up of men from the meat packing factory. The town had bailed out the team when financial times were hard, and came to give a chance to a man from Brooklyn who helped raise them out of obscurity, to glory. I fell in love with the tradition and the team's message; I came to love the Green Bay Packers.

The Packers came to me just when I needed them the most. At a time when I felt like I lost my family, the Packers taught me what the meaning of family was. A family meant always supporting the people you love, even if you do not agree with what they are doing. A family meant forgiving the people you love when they let you down.

Ultimately my father and I decided on watching the Dolphins play the Packers at Lambeau Field. From that point on, each week — from training camp through our pilgrimage to Green Bay — it gave us something to talk about. The Green Bay Packers came to be our saving grace.

The Packers and football helped me to heal. It gave me a distraction when I needed one, taught me what I needed to learn to begin my healing process, and gave my father and I a medium through which to salvage our relationship.

This past Winter Break my father and I met up to watch the games and hold our breath to see if our Pack would stay alive. We cheered them on against the Eagles in a packed restaurant, unashamed to let our pride shine. We relived our time at Lambeau, with fellow Cheeseheads as we watched the G force take down the Falcons at a Packer's bar in the city. When we could not watch the fight together for the NFC Championship against the Bears, and the Super Bowl against the Steelers, we texted each other our reactions. Once their victory was sealed, we got on the phone with each other and expressed how much we loved each other while we both exhaled in relief. What a season, what a year.

Football did not save me and my family on its own, it was just a catalyst that allowed us to start healing. There is no quick fix to depression and heart break; it is something that has to come from within, through support from your loved ones and professionals, and with time. You never know what it might be that helps you start on your journey. For me, it was the Green Bay Packers.

Family is the most precious thing in the world, and they can come in all shapes and sizes. No matter what your family may look like, cherish them, because you never know how much you love them and need them until they are gone. I am so happy that I have my family, and through this journey it has grown to include some amazing people, and of course the Packer Nation.

Finally, after all this time and through everything, I can smile because I want to.

Go Pack Go.