Update on 2017 Scholarship Contest

Just a quick update to let folks know that I've been doing a lot of thinking about the feasibility of a 2017 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. As you may or may not know, my wife and I started our essay contest back in 2015 as a way to help college students who have been affected by a sibling's addiction. We were thrilled to be able to award two scholarships in both 2015 ($1,700 total) and 2016 ($2,050 total).

In both of those years, my wife and I seeded the scholarship monies with $500 of our own, with the rest of the funds provided by generous donors. Unfortunately, I haven't worked full-time in more than three years now, and money is about as tight as it can be. Funding last year's contest was a challenge, but funding this year's contest is pretty much an impossibility.

As much as we'd love to do it, I think the scholarship contest is going to have to take a break this year. Sometimes you just have to be realistic, even if it hurts a little.

If anything changes--like if by some chance I win the lottery in the next few weeks (note: that probably won't happen since I don't buy lottery tickets)--I will update you. But for now it looks like we'll set our sights on getting the contest back on track in 2018.

Thanks for understanding.

Peace. And remember...

#SiblingsMatter

Runner-Up Essay: "Two Years" by Katie Walker

This is the second-place essay in the 2016 My Life As 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. Our runner-up this year is Katie Walker of Clay, Michigan. She is a student at Arcadia University in Glenside, Pennsylvania, where she is studying political science. Katie will receive $550 to help pay her tuition costs this coming year.

Two Years

By Katie Walker

I don't want you to die thinking that I hate you, but I'm afraid it will happen. I don't want you in my life anymore, but I still love you. I’ll admit, there was a time when I didn't care if you lived or died--at least I told myself so--but I was really angry with you. It felt like you'd ruined everything and I really thought we were going to lose our nephew. Sometimes it's still really difficult not to blame you for Joel's mom leaving--you did have a meth-crazed affair together, after all. You did bring an armed drug dealer into our house who threatened to shoot all of us, including the baby. But, most of the time, I miss you. I miss you, not the addiction. I wonder where you end and where the addiction starts. Are you still the little boy who won the lead in the community play, singing "Reach for the Stars"?

Writing this, I realize it has been two years since I last spoke to you. You've tried to contact me. You still tell Mom to say hello to me. You still tell me you are proud of me through comments on Mom's Facebook page, even though you've gotten nothing in return. I'm sorry I'm still mad. I'm sorry I can't be there for you.

Katie with her brother.

For the last four years, I've watched your addiction consume Mom. That's not your fault, she is free to make her own decisions, but it still hurts to see. In my angrier stages, I couldn't understand why she kept "wasting" Dad's money on you, in and out of rehab every few months, and every few months you'd relapse, bringing some other druggie to my grandmother's house to overdose in her bed, or a band of troublemakers to the party of a friend of mine where they could destroy his house, spray painting the walls and starting fights. Sometimes, I think maybe she is a better person than I am, for never giving up on you, no matter how many reasons you give. I'm not always so sure, though. It took a lot of effort to let go and live my own life, to accept the brother I once had wasn’t there anymore and didn’t seem to want to be. Or is that even true?

Addiction is such a mess. Who are you? What actions were you and what actions were addiction? Who lives in your body now?

It's hard to believe the boy who tried teaching me to skateboard, who inspired me to try out for the theater, who shared such wonderful music with me is still inside of that body. It's hard to see that person when you steal from me and our parents, when you punch holes in walls in drunken rages, when you take advantage of our grandma's hospitality and unconditional love, taking her money and turning her home into your own personal drug house. I'll never forget it, and I don't know if I can forgive it.

I know you will read this and think I'm a monster, a selfish person who abandoned a loved one who needed me. Sometimes, that's how I feel, but I would not give up the life I lead now. I love that, without you poisoning my life, without fearing to come home, I can be there for people who want help, and help myself. Did you know I felt like I had to hide my depression and suicidal thoughts because Mom and Dad were preoccupied with trying to keep you and your girlfriend clean? That was a fun birthday. My 21st. Mom and I were on our way to Red Lobster to chow down on crab legs, as was our ritual. I told her then. I couldn't stop wanting to die. I couldn't stop wanting to escape. No, don't worry. It wasn't just you, but your violent outbursts certainly didn't help. Seeing my hero fall certainly didn't give me hope.

Two months later, I had an escape plan. I wouldn't be trapped in that house with you anymore. I'd get out, by just any means necessary. Even living in a house with no appliances and no heat in the middle of winter. Living with you was terrible. Having no heat was better, for the time being.

Yet, still I tried to be your friend. I remember visiting you a few months later in your three-quarter house. We went to see a concert, and I was excited to have a night of clean fun with you and your friends. I was happy to bring people who you used to love to come see you. Maybe that was a mistake. Old habits die hard, I guess.

I know it's been hard for you. I've watched you go through withdrawal, and lied for you to family friends, hiding what was happening because everything was still so fresh. I've gone to meetings with you. I lived with you for a time during your recovery and I've seen you cycle through stages of determination and depression. I did everything I thought I could to distract you from your symptoms. You taught me guitar; we planned art projects; we did whatever we could do that didn't involve substances. It hurt to find out that you'd been sneaking liquor, beer, and heroin the entire time. I thought we were doing well, but then you kept nodding off. I guess you weren't ready. I needed you to be ready.

Katie and her brother as young siblings.

You know, I took a break from writing this to check on your Facebook page and see what you were doing. You have a new girlfriend. I hope she's good to you, and I hope you're good to her. That would be pretty new for you. You have a big heart, you love hard, but you get nasty when you don't get your way, and that isn't something that is easy to look past. In some ways, even though you're four years older than I am, you're still a child. It's like the addiction took hold and you stopped aging. You're still a 16-year-old boy. I see the mother of your child, also an addict, turning her life around, starting college and doing well, raising your beautiful daughter, and boy, is she doing a great job. That little girl is so smart. Your little girl. She looks so much like you, it hurts.

I know we don't talk, and I know it's my fault, but I hope you know it pleases me that you are proud of me. I'll admit, I try not to hear about you, but when I catch wind of you holding down a job for over a month, I feel pride too. I know what you're going through isn't easy, and it's hard for both of us not to want to be selfish. I'm sorry for being selfish. I think I'll come back to you, one day, when I feel less fragile.

For now, I'm glad I get to live my life for me. I'm glad I can succeed in college without distraction and without worrying about having a safe place to study when I get home. You had me captivated when we were young, and I did everything I could to be just like you, no matter how damaging it was. I miss you, but it's a good thing you have no hold on me anymore. I am my own person.

Still, it'd be a lie to say none of my actions are influenced by you. You taught me to be my own advocate with your unfailingly strong-willed demeanor. I use that now to help myself and others get what they need. Although our political views have gone in drastically different directions, I still owe my courage to you. I still use your strength, bravado, and generosity to help those who need a shoulder, a hand, or a voice. Now, I know I can do these things, and it's a good thing too, because I can't imagine doing any other kind of work. I will always strive to be a servant to the little guy, or a hand for the downtrodden.

I know it will help me find my way back to you.

Katie working at an LGBTQ event.

Winning Essay: "Healing with Love" by Carolyn Robbins

This is the winning essay in the 2016 My Life As 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. Our first-place winner this year is Carolyn Robbins of Chelsea, Michigan. She is a junior at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, where she is studying political science and history. Carolyn will receive $1500 to help pay her tuition costs this year.


Healing with Love
By Carolyn Robbins

If I had a dollar for every time I heard, "Wow, you two are polar opposites," then I wouldn't be writing this scholarship essay. My brother Eric and I grew up with both of our parents in recovery. Because of that, we were constantly reminded that we had a ninety percent chance of developing an addiction at some point in our lives, most likely to alcohol. Growing up, I took this warning very seriously. Eric, however, was a little more adventurous.

When Eric was in preschool, my mother started to see that he didn't learn the same way that other kids did. His teacher said he was "On the high end of active," which my mother tells me is "Politically correct for 'Your kid is a real spazz.'" By the time he was five years old and starting kindergarten, he was taking medication for ADHD. Being seven years old myself, I thought this meant that Eric just wasn't as smart as I was. As time went on, my understanding of Eric's disorder began to develop and I realized that the traditional sit-down-and-learn schooling environment just wasn't suited for him. However, there was already a divide between us in that I was the overachiever and he was the troublemaker. By the time we were both in high school, this was a full-blown dichotomy.

From years of observing my brother's behavior and knowing that he didn't always fit in with kids at school, I wasn't shocked the first time I caught him smoking marijuana. But I was heartbroken and scared. In a typical "hero child" fashion, I blamed myself for not being a good enough influence for him. At this time, I thought I could keep him away from drugs. I thought I could convince him to turn around. I knew he was starting to fall in with a rougher crowd of friends, and I encouraged him to cut ties. Of course, Eric was having none of that.

Carolyn with her brother Eric.

I was also worried because I knew that marijuana is a gateway to other drugs, and I didn't see Eric turning anything down. I felt scared that Eric would encounter law enforcement. I was also selfishly worried that his habits and attitude would begin to reflect poorly on me. Deep down, I still hoped this was only a phase.

It wasn't a phase. One year later, I heard some noise outside of my bedroom at 2:00 AM. I knew it was Eric, of course, but something about it seemed strange, so I went to see what was going on. I found my brother stumbling around between the bathroom and his bedroom. His movements were very fluid and it seemed like he didn't have control. I asked him what was going on and he slurred the words "drunk" and "Jack Daniels" to me between giggles. It wasn't hard to put two and two together, so when I finally got him to lie down, I was determined to stay up next to him all night and scold him in the morning. Somewhere along the way, he stood up, fell, and hit his head on his dresser. My initial plan to cover for him and scold him myself in order to save my parents some heartbreak was foiled. We ended up in the emergency room. Eric was half passed out, half kicking and screaming. The nurses told me my brother had a Blood Alcohol Level of .244. I knew this was only the beginning. Eric had shown no signs of slowing down when it came to experimenting with substances, and at this time he still had three years of high school left ahead of him.

At this point, I had been facing my brother's growing addiction for about three years. Around this time, I began to experience panic attacks regularly. During these panic attacks, I couldn't catch my breath. Only one thought would go through my head, "Something really bad is going to happen." When these attacks were almost daily, I began seeing a therapist. I was pretty resistant to therapy when I first started. I didn't want to be helped. In my opinion, Eric was the one who needed help. My therapist helped me to recognize the different roles and co-dependencies in my family. She helped by giving me strategies to break these molds, and to detach when necessary.

Our whole house could smell like marijuana, but no one would admit that they noticed. My clothes smelled like smoke, the car we shared smelled like smoke, and I worried people would begin to wonder about me and whether or not I was using like my brother was. One of my biggest fears was getting pulled over and having my car searched. I knew there was marijuana hidden somewhere, but I could never find it. I was worried a police officer would find it and I would have to face charges myself. I was constantly told that I was imagining things, that I was crazy, and that I didn’t know what I was talking about because I myself have never smoked marijuana.

There were many times I felt betrayed by my parents. It always felt like they weren't acknowledging the problem, which was extra painful because they are recovering addicts. There was excuse after excuse. "You two are different." "He has ADHD, it's harder for him." "At least he isn't drinking." And my personal favorite, "He’s a boy." I would be the only person to acknowledge that Eric had a problem with marijuana, alcohol, and eventually with prescription drugs. As a sibling, I was helpless. Over time, I learned that my influence was not enough. I didn't have the authority to punish Eric, or anything like that. I felt like Eric hated me for getting in the way of using and my parents resented me for criticizing their parenting. For me, all of this culminated in feelings of isolation, hurt, and most of all, anxiety.

My therapist encouraged me to "detach with love" from my painful family situation. Starting college was a great time to do this. I was finally attending my dream college, the University of Michigan, and even though it is only a half hour away from home, it was distance enough to begin to detach and try to grow independently as a young adult. My main focus was to succeed academically and build a financially stable life for myself so that I ultimately would not have to rely on my parents. I wanted to escape the toxic family dynamic back at home as soon as I could. The summer after my freshman year of college, I moved home again. My plan was not to involve myself or start any arguments when I knew Eric was using. That plan didn't last long, as I was still clinging to a hope of getting him into recovery, or at least admitting there was a problem. I went to my first day of my summer job at a bridal shop smelling strongly of marijuana smoke, despite my attempts to cover it up. I was incredibly upset and embarrassed about it. When I brought it up to my parents, it was the same argument over and over again, "You're imagining things."

One night, Eric and I were staying at our family's cottage. Eric had previously been staying there alone for a couple of days, with my grandparents next door on one side, and my aunt next door on the other side. It was his favorite place. Because my parents are in recovery, there is never alcohol in our cottage. However, other family members do drink, so there is alcohol accessible to a determined and sneaky teenager. When I went to put a soda can in the recycling bin, I opened it to see that it was filled with beer cans, top to bottom and side to side. It was not an "I had a couple," or a "Well I’ve been out here for a week" amount of cans. It was an "I cannot stop" amount. That's when I began to see my brother's drinking habits as something I would not be able to stop, something my parents would not be able to stop, and something that required a twelve-step program. I had stopped seeing this as an experimentation phase for my brother and started seeing it as the disease that was already so prominent in my family. He wasn't going to stop until he wanted to. And at this point, he didn’t want to.

When I went back to U of M in the fall, I became a part of the Students for Recovery group on campus. I became friends with numerous young people in recovery. I knew that it was best for me to remain healthily detached from my painful family situation, but I was beginning to understand the need to lead with love rather than trying to force Eric into recovery. I even went to my first Al-Anon meeting. I really liked the people I met and I planned to keep going. But six days later, Eric died in a drunk driving accident.

There's something about a sibling that's different from any other relationship. You can laugh and joke, you can scream and fight. And at the end of the day they're still in your life because they have to be. Siblings just are. Siblings have a connection whether they want to or not. They're one of the few people who really know you, because they've known you since the beginning. I don't have a single memory of my life before Eric. We were only two years apart. When I was in tears after my high school boyfriend cheated on me, 15-year-old Eric was first on scene to offer to beat him up (as brothers do). We drove to school together every day in our red Jeep, either bickering or shamelessly singing along to the radio. Eric was the first person I told when I was accepted to my dream school. He extended a silent but genuine "fist bump." I have millions of funny jokes and memories from growing up together. When we fought, we were constantly reminded, "It’s just the two of you, so you'd better find a way to get along." I had complete faith that Eric was eventually going to recover, and I was excited to embrace a healthier relationship when he finally did. Unfortunately, we never had that chance.

I could have said, "I told you so." I could have said, "I tried and you didn’t." Because I did tell them so, and I did try. I felt like I made my whole family hate me because I was trying so hard to change Eric, and it was all for nothing. But I didn't say those things, even when I really wanted to. I realized that even though they may not have handled things the same way I did, neither of my parents wanted to see Eric fall into the same world they worked so hard to escape. We all wanted to see him recover and we all handled it differently. It’s never fair, but the timing of this felt particularly unfair. Eric was seventeen years old when he died. He was a senior in high school. The fact that it was Halloween gave it an even eerier feeling. I woke up that morning and he was just gone. He had died instantly upon impact with a tree, drunkenly driving our Jeep. We were all thankful that he didn’t suffer or take anyone with him, but the fact that it happened so quickly gave the situation a sense of urgency and shock that I couldn't shake for close to three months. It took a long time for me to feel safe again.

Carolyn with her dog Teddy.

I backtracked on any progress I had made with my own depression, anxiety, and overall mental health. I wanted to drop out of school, I wanted to drink for the first time in my life, and I even contemplated suicide. But none of those things happened. Nine days after Eric's accident, I was back in class. I lived my days in a fog. At night I either couldn't fall asleep, or I was woken up by graphic nightmares about my brother's accident. I was acting out all the time. I was very irritable, depressed, unreliable, and often physically ill. I could barely complete my work. I felt embarrassed and ashamed for not being able to bounce back and compete with my peers at the level that I had before Eric died. But something in me told me to keep going anyway. Even if my work was low-quality, it was important that I keep doing it. It was important to maintain contact with the friends I had made in recovery, and it was important to keep talking about my grief, even if I didn't want to. I always found an open ear in the recovery community.

It has been eight months since my brother died and I'm still not sure how to live my life without him in it, but I am trying to grow and develop despite my ongoing grief process. I've found that the most comforting way to do so has been to embody the traits that hid under Eric's disease. Eric was persistent, loyal, funny, optimistic, and most importantly, he was kind. He would jump at the chance to help anyone who needed it. I wish he could know that he was able to give the ultimate gift of kindness to many people after he passed. Although his organs were not able to be donated, his corneas have helped two people gain sight, his tissue has helped people regain mobility, and his skin has helped countless burn victims.

One of my dreams is to live a full life for myself, but also for Eric and all of the years he missed out on. My family is lucky enough to have some of Eric's last writings, which came from journal entries for his "Senior Seminar" class at school. One of these journals included a bucket list. While I don't intend to own a bar, and I'm pretty iffy on the whole skydiving thing, there are a few things from Eric's bucket list that match dreams of my own. I hope to experience them for the both of us. The first is to fight poverty. I thought this was a cool and somewhat unexpected thing for my brother to have on his bucket list. Little did he know that for the last two years, I have been a part of a group on campus (the ONE campaign) that works to fight extreme poverty. The next thing on Eric's list was to spend a year in Ireland. I never knew that was something that both of us wanted to do. While I may not be able to spend a year in Ireland, I do plan to travel there someday to see where our family came from. The last thing on Eric's list that I would like to do is give back to my parents. I'd ultimately like to pay them back the money they've contributed to my schooling, because I know they've always done everything they can to make sure Eric and I had everything we needed.

Eric probably never even thought to put "graduate from high school" on his bucket list, but that was where I took my first steps to truly moving forward and living for the both of us. When they called his name at Chelsea High School's graduation ceremony last month, I walked across the stage and received Eric's honorary high school diploma from his favorite teacher on his behalf. It felt a lot like when I stood up to read at his funeral. Everyone was watching me. And to be honest, I hated every second. But I know that Eric waited his whole life for that moment, and it was important that someone experienced it for him. And even though it was going to be difficult for him to battle his ADHD, I had complete faith that he was going to graduate just like I had faith that he would eventually make it into a recovery program.

I also intend to pursue dreams of my own. Some have changed since Eric passed, but many have stayed the same. I intend to graduate from the University of Michigan with two majors, history and political science. I have always wanted to pursue work in counterterrorism. I would like to see the world, raise a family, rescue animals, and tell my story by writing a screenplay. A dream of mine that has developed since Eric died has been to increase my presence in the recovery community. My experiences so far have helped me to cope with my loss in a healthy way. I would love to be an open ear to people who have similar experiences to my own, especially siblings of addicts. The recovery community is gratifying for both those who seek help and those who receive it, and I would love to become more involved in Al-Anon.

My biggest dream is to live a life free from anxiety. I hope that one day, I can be free from my feelings of regret surrounding my brother's addiction and death. I was fighting an impossible battle, and that battle wasn't even mine. It can be very difficult not to look back and think of what else I could have done, or blame myself for not doing more. However, I hope to one day heal through a process of self-acceptance and love. I know that increasing my involvement with the recovery community is an excellent place to start.

Carolyn accepting her brother's honorary high school diploma.
(Photo by Junfu Han of the Ann Arbor News.)

Announcing Our 2016 Scholarship Contest Winners

First off, I want to apologize for taking so long to write this post and announce the winners of the 2016 My Life As 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. Sometimes life just gets in the way and that thing on the top of your to-do list keeps getting pushed further and further down the list by other pesky little tasks that come up out of nowhere. But anyway...

As I posted a few weeks ago, this year's contest had 29 entries from 15 different states, stretching from California to New Jersey. The topic for this contest was How has your sibling's addiction impacted you and what are your dreams for your future? All of the essays were amazing and it was incredibly difficult to pick the two best. But since I don't have money to give to everyone--believe me, I wish I did--there can only be one winner and one runner-up.

(Drumroll, please.)

This year's first-prize winner is Carolyn Robbins from Chelsea, Michigan. She will receive $1,500.00 to help pay her tuition at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, where she is studying political science and history. Carolyn's essay, entitled "Healing with Love," is about her little brother Eric.

This year's runner-up is Katie Walker from Clay, Michigan. She will receive $550.00 to help offset the cost of her tuition at Arcadia University in suburban Philadelphia, where she is studying political science. Katie's essay, entitled "Two Years," is about her brother.

Both of these young women submitted essays that are beautifully written and full of honesty and emotion. When you read them--and I'll be publishing the essays on my blog very soon--I advise you to have some Kleenex handy. You're going to need it.

My wife and I would like to thank everyone who took the time to write an essay and enter the contest.  Writing about a sibling's addiction takes a lot of courage and we think you're all pretty special people. We wish you nothing but the best going forward. And by all means, keep on writing. Thanks to the judges, too. We so appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules to read and judge the essays.

Peace. And remember: #SiblingsMatter

"Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul." --Anne Lamott

Scholarship Contest Update

It's been a crazy few weeks in my world, and this is really the first chance I've had to post any sort of update on this year's My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest.

This year we ended up with 29 entries from students in 15 different states. I spent my Fourth of July weekend reading all of the essays and I confess that I shed more than a few tears while doing so. Even though every sibling's story is different, the things that they have experienced and felt while living through their brother's or sister's addiction are so similar. When you read their essays, you can't help but be overcome with emotion.

At this point, the 29 essays have been distilled down to the Top 10. Now the judges have until July 31st to select their personal Top 3. When that process is finished, points will be awarded accordingly, the points will be tallied, and a winner and runner-up will be determined. Those lucky students will be notified the week of August 1st and the official announcement will be made in this blog around that same time. The first- and second-place essays will also be published here so you all can read them.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of the young people who took the time to enter this contest. I'm sure writing about your sibling's addiction wasn't easy, but hopefully it helped you in some way. I know from experience that writing can be incredibly cathartic, so maybe putting your feelings into words has given you at least a little bit of relief.

Remember: #SiblingsMatter

Deadline for Scholarship Essay Contest Is 1 Week Away!

When I was in school, I was a procrastinator. No matter what the assignment was, I managed to put it off until the last possible minute. Example: For a film class in college, we had to choose a current movie and watch it three times, each time observing and taking notes on a different aspect of filmmaking. Then we had to write about our findings in an essay.

Of course, the scope of that project didn't faze me. I went to the movie theatre the day before the assignment was due, sat through three consecutive showings of On Golden Pond, then came home and wrote my paper. I got an A+.

I've since learned that just because you can doesn't mean you should. In other words, you can put things off until you can't put them off any longer and still get them done. But why put that kind of pressure on yourself? Why not take Nike's advice and just do it?

So here's another friendly reminder that the deadline for entering the 2nd annual My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest for college students who have been impacted by a sibling's addiction is now just ONE WEEK AWAY. All entries are due no later than 8:00pm EDT on Friday, July 1st.

If you're planning on submitting an entry and haven't started writing yet, you might want to think about doing so. Or, if you're a procrastinator like I was, maybe you don't need to think about it until next Thursday. Whatever works for you. Just know that the clock is ticking. The essays that have been submitted so far are great and I look forward to reading many more.

All the information needed to enter the contest--requirements, rules, key dates, etc.--should be contained in the documents below. (For more background on the contest and to find out who the judges are, read this blog post.) This year we will be awarding a $1,500.00 scholarship to the contest winner and a $550.00 scholarship to the runner-up.

NOTE: These links are to Google Docs.

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest: Rules

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest: Application/Entry Form

If you have any questions about the scholarship, or if you have any problems with the documents, please contact me at:

siblingscholarship@gmail.com

Good luck! And remember: #SiblingsMatter

P.S. I love SpongeBob SquarePants. :)

Deadline for Scholarship Essay Contest Is 2 Weeks Away!

This is just a friendly reminder that the deadline for entering the 2nd annual My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest for college students who have been impacted by a sibling's addiction is only two weeks away. All entries are due no later than 8:00pm EDT on Friday, July 1st. So if you're planning on entering, you'd best get writing!

This year we will be awarding a $1,500.00 scholarship to the contest winner and a $550.00 scholarship to the runner-up.

All the information needed to enter the contest--requirements, rules, key dates, etc.--should be contained in the documents below. (For more background on the contest and to find out who the judges are, read this blog post.)

NOTE: These links are to Google Docs.

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest: Rules

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest: Application/Entry Form

If you have any questions about the scholarship, or if you have any problems with the documents, please contact me at:

siblingscholarship@gmail.com

The judges and I are looking forward to reading a lot of heartfelt essays. And, of course, to giving away some money.

Good luck! And remember: #SiblingsMatter

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest

(Note: A version of this blog post also appears on The Huffington Post's blog site as "A Scholarship Essay Contest for College Students Affected by a Sibling's Addiction.")



Welcome to the official announcement of the 2nd annual(?) My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest.

I wasn't sure this contest would happen again this year, and yet here we are. Sure, last year's version was a big success, with 30 kids submitting essays and 2 kids walking away with scholarships totaling $1,750.00. But finances have been tight in my family for a while now--not having a full-time job for more than two years will do that--so putting up money to seed another scholarship fund this year was kind of iffy. In the end, though, as I wrote back in October, my wife Kathy and I decided to go ahead and do it. Because siblings matter.

Our goal this year was to meet or exceed the monetary value of the scholarships we awarded the first time around, and I'm super happy to say that we did that. My wife and I put up $500.00 of our own money and some very generous people kicked in another another $1,550.00 via our YouCaring campaign. The end result?

This year we'll be awarding a $1,500.00 scholarship to the contest winner and a $550.00 scholarship to the runner-up.

Here are the key dates you need to know about this year's contest:

• Deadline for essays/entries: 7/1/16
• Judging deadline for essays: 7/31/16
• Winner notified/announced: Week of 8/1/16

The topic for the essay contest is:

“How has your sibling’s addiction impacted you and what are your dreams for your future?”

Last year's contest produced some amazing essays, a few of which marked the first time the author had ever written about the effect their sibling's addiction has had on them. I have to say, that was one of the most satisfying things about the whole experience: Giving young people a chance to tell their stories and shifting the focus off of their addicted sibling for just a little bit. Writing can be so cathartic, so maybe we helped some young people find some relief even if they didn't win any money.

This year's contest will be judged by a group of people who know a thing or two about addiction and writing. In addition to myself and my wife, these fine folks will be judging the essay submissions:

Jeff Jay
Jeff is a clinical interventionist, educator, and author who has been in recovery from addiction since October of 1981. He and his wife Debra run Love First, a private practice that provides interventions, recovery mentoring, and professional training. A former clinician with the Hazelden Foundation and Sacred Heart Rehabilitation Center, Jeff co-authored the best-selling book Love First: A Family’s Guide to Intervention with his wife. His latest book is Navigating Grace: A Solo Voyage of Survival and Redemption.

Jeanne Keister
Jeanne and her husband Don lost their son Tyler to addiction on December 23, 2012. Since then, they have worked wonders to help break the stigma associated with addiction and evoke legislative changes through their organization atTAcK addiction. Their goal? To help young people realize the dangers of alcohol and drugs so that they and their families never have to experience the pain, tragedy, and loneliness that accompany addiction.

Hannah Miller
Hannah is an incredible young person in recovery who has committed her life to helping others struggling with addiction. She shared her story, "Nine Lives," with Heroes in Recovery back in December of 2014. A recent graduate of the University of Michigan's Master of Social Work program, Hannah is a therapist at Dawn Farm, an addiction treatment center in Ypsilanti, Michigan.

Munchie Morgan
Munchie is a fabulous writer who lost her younger sister to an addiction-related suicide just over two years ago. She has shared her story on the Heroes in Recovery site, too. You can read it here: "My Sister Sarah." Munchie started the Facebook group "Someone Else's Sarah" to help bring awareness to addiction and suicide. She also writes a blog for a treatment facility.

Anne Slease
Anne has been a teacher for more than 20 years and became a mental health advocate and author after witnessing firsthand the rippling effects of mental illness and addiction in her home. Her older son was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at age 18, but he denied it, self-medicating with alcohol and drugs instead. Ultimately, he was incarcerated and spent almost 3 years behind bars. Anne has written a novel, A Brother's Oath, a fictionalized account of the devastation her younger son faced while watching his older brother's mental health and behavior deteriorate. She also writes a blog called "Still Hopeful Mom."

Cathy Taughinbaugh
A Certified Parent Coach, Cathy has been working with parents since 2010. After discovering drug and alcohol use was an issue with her children, she found that connecting with others was a way to share tools and strategies that could help parents lessen the pain of their child’s substance use. Through personal coaching, articles, a support group, resources, and various ebooks, Cathy's goal is to offer inspiration to others facing the same or similar challenges in their lives. You can visit her website at: http://cathytaughinbaugh.com 

(Actress Kristen Johnston, author of the brutally honest and funny addiction memoir Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster, was a judge last year, but isn't sure if her schedule will allow her to participate this time. She's asked me to contact her closer to the judging period to see what her availability is. I'm really hoping she'll be able to do it.)

So there you have it.

If you know a college student who has been impacted by their sibling's addiction, and they are attending college in the fall, please share this blog with them. Maybe they'll be interested in taking a shot at this scholarship contest. All the information they need to apply/enter--requirements, rules, deadlines, etc.--should be contained in the documents below.

NOTE: These links are to Google Docs.

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest: Rules

2016 My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest: Application/Entry Form

If you have any questions about the scholarship, or if you have any problems with the documents, please contact me at:

siblingscholarship@gmail.com

I can't wait to give away some money in August. And who knows? Maybe we'll do it again next year, too.

Peace. And good luck. And remember...

#SiblingsMatter

--Dean

"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories." --Anne Lamott

THIS Is Why You Should Help the Sibling of An Addict Pay for College

As most of you already know, my wife and I started a small college scholarship last year to help siblings of addicts pay for college. We did it because we experienced firsthand how addiction can upset the balance in a family--and the balance in a family's checkbook.

Siblings of people struggling with addiction can get pushed aside while their family deals with a brother's or sister's disease. Believe me: It's not something that's done intentionally. It just happens.

The scholarship essay contest Kathy and I created was something we came up with to show that siblings matter. We wanted to give those siblings a voice, have them write about how they've been affected by addiction, and reward a couple of them with some money to help pay their college tuition.

We gave away a total of $1,700.00 last year--$1,200.00 to the winner and $500.00 to the runner-up. Our goal this year is to at least match that amount, and, hopefully, exceed it. As I write this blog post, our YouCaring.com campaign for the scholarship fund stands at $1,585.00, so we're getting close. But we're only actively seeking contributions for five more days, so time is running out.

If anyone needs a reason to make a small donation, I offer up this testimony from a 17-year-old girl in Montana. She sent me a message via Facebook last night after she read my Heroes In Recovery blog entitled "Siblings and the Ripple Effect of Addiction." Here's what she wrote:

"Hi, I don't know if messaging you will help. Or if it's even worth it to send this. I read your blog on the ripple effect and how it affects siblings of addicts. I haven't found something that has ever actually explained how I feel with my sister being an addict until I read that. So much of what happened to your younger son is happening to me. I don't know why I'm messaging. I don't know if I want to talk or if I want to write about my experience. I guess it just feels nice knowing that people understand how I feel. I guess I'm more trying to say thank you for writing that because it helped me realize that it's okay to feel forgotten and pushed outta the family. It's normal but thank you for writing that. I hope you know it does help. It doesn't exactly make me feel like everything is okay now but it does help."

That message is exactly why Kathy and I are doing the scholarship contest again this year. And it's why you should take a couple of minutes and make a contribution--any contribution--to the scholarship fund before the end of the month.

Kathy and I believe that it shouldn't be okay for siblings to "feel forgotten and pushed outta the family." They deserve so much more than that.

#SiblingsMatter

You can make a contribution to the My Life as 3D Scholarship Fund at this link:

https://www.youcaring.com/college-students-affected-by-a-sibling-s-addiction-453759

Thanks for listening.

Peace.

Update: 2016-17 College Scholarship Essay Contest

Back in October, I wrote that my wife and I had decided to go ahead with our My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest again this year. (For those who don't already know, this is a contest that awards scholarships to college students who have been affected by a sibling's addiction. We awarded two scholarships last year.)

I'll be completely honest: We almost didn't do it, because money's pretty tight on our end right now. More than two years after leaving my publishing job to pursue other interests, I still haven't found a full-time job. So putting up $500.00 as seed money for this year's scholarship wasn't easy. But we received so many emails from students asking if there was going to be another contest that we just had to do it.

Sometimes you have to make decisions based on what's in your heart instead of what's in your wallet.  

I started a crowdfunding campaign on YouCaring in mid-October to raise additional money for the scholarship(s) and so far generous donors have contributed an extra $635.00 to the cause. Our total scholarship funds as I write this post are $1,135.00, which is great. I hope people will keep donating so we can reach the $3,000.00 goal. (Honestly, even $2,000.00 would be fabulous.) By all means, feel free to share the YouCaring link--https://www.youcaring.com/college-students-affected-by-a-sibling-s-addiction-453759--with anyone you think might be interested in contributing, even if it's just a few dollars. Every little bit helps.

Here are the key dates we've established for this year's contest:

• Deadline for essays/entries: 7/1/16
• Judging deadline for essays: 7/31/16
• Winner notified/announced: Week of 8/1/16

I'm also in the process of assembling the panel of judges. I'm very pleased to announce that Jeff Jay, a nationally known clinical interventionist, educator, and author, has agreed to judge essays this year. Jeff and his wife, Debra, wrote the best-selling book Love First: A Family's Guide to Intervention. Jeff also has a new memoir out called Navigating Grace: A Solo Voyage of Survival and Redemption. 

So that's my update. More details for this year's contest will be shared in the next couple of months. In the meantime, spread the word. We had 30 students enter last year's contest. Maybe this year we'll get even more.

Peace.

We're Doing It Again (and You Can Help)

The first My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest was such a success, my wife and I have decided to do it again.

In August, we awarded two college scholarships to students who have been affected by a sibling's addiction. The author of the winning essay, Ryan Gruchala, received $1,200.00 to help pay his tuition at the University of Dayton; and the runner-up, Luke Moran, got $500.00 to help pay for his studies at the University of Delaware.

Those scholarships were funded in part through the generous donations of ordinary people. People who realize that addiction is a family disease, and that it eats away at families in every way possible: emotionally, physically, and financially. Addiction affects everyone in the family--mothers, fathers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc.--but I don't think anyone is affected as much as siblings. Oftentimes they don't understand what's going on with the brother or sister who means so much to them, or why it's happening.

A sibling's addiction can also have a negative financial impact on a family. While trying to help an addicted child, parents burn through money at a tremendous rate. They spend thousands of dollars on rehab treatment, hospitals, therapy, intensive outpatient programs, sober living houses, special medications, etc. By the time another child is ready to go to college, parents are frequently struggling financially. So every little bit helps.

My wife and I have decided to do another My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest for 2016. We will once again put up $500.00 of our own money, and we would love to have others contribute to the cause. Our goal? To meet or exceed the amount of the scholarships awarded the first time around.

I've set up a fundraising page on the YouCaring website. (I chose YouCaring this time because their fees are lower than other crowdfunding sites.) Please consider making a donation to this cause, even if it's only a couple of dollars. It all adds up, and you will be helping someone who is very deserving.

This fundraiser will be open through March of 2016. The essay contest will be announced in my blog in April of 2016. The winners will be announced in August of 2016.

If anyone wants more information about how the first essay contest was set up and run, you can visit my blog post about it.

And just an FYI: The checks for the scholarship prizes are made out directly to the winners' schools, after their registration is verified.

So, who wants to help make a difference in a young person's life?

"We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give." --Winston Churchill

Finalist Essay: Charlie Lockyer

Charlie Lockyer's entry for the My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest was unique among the 10 finalists. Why is that? Because not only has she has been affected by her older brother's addiction and her mother's addiction, she has faced addiction herself.

Charlie is a brave young woman who is studying psychology at Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio. I am thrilled to share her incredibly brave and honest essay with you.


Breaking the Circle

By Charlie Lockyer

Andrew has always been THAT guy. The one you want to be with. Good looking, funny and surrounded by friends. Pushing everything to the limit and rarely getting caught. He is six years older than me, and when I was growing up he was my hero. I wanted to be just like him. He was also my protector from life with an alcoholic mother. She was verbally, physically and mentally abusive and he was the buffer between real harm and the quiet of my family's own dysfunctional kind of normal.

In the final years of our Mom's drinking, Andrew began to steal her booze. I learned that he would sell the booze, and use that money to buy weed. In my eyes this impressed me even more. It was a cunning business venture and the adults had absolutely no idea. When our Mom finally entered recovery, our world began to change. My parents' eyes were opened to the three of us wild children, and a budding business died. Even though he was put out of business, Andrew continued to be wildly popular and continued to use a variety of drugs. I grew up to be almost exactly the opposite, even though I desperately wanted to be like him. My idolization of him eventually led me to my own downfall.

In every branch of my family tree, and perhaps even down into the roots, there is addiction. It is simply how our brains seem to be wired, so to speak. When the concept that my siblings and I might have a greater likelihood of having addiction issues, we all reacted in different ways to that knowledge. My younger brother completely accepted it, and has the foresight, even at 16, to want a life free from mind-altering substances. I was neutral, and while I had an intellectual understanding of what I was being told about my chances of developing a problem with substance misuse, it wasn't resonating emotionally. I was working on my anger and PTSD in therapy, but was still too confused to really listen or care, and the need to feel connected to my peers was so strong. Andrew, however, denied the possibility that addiction could be genetic flat out. In order to repair our familial connections, we all went to therapy as a family, but Andrew refused to participate, driving himself away from us rather than forgive and learn to move on from our broken pasts. He seemed to let it fester.

Andrew's thirst for adventure and need for excitement led to him join the military by the time I was in high school, and I was desperate to follow. There, too, he was still Mr. Popularity. I struggled in high school and was not so well liked. I was awkward because I was trying to be someone I wasn't. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I had few friends, and I couldn't figure out why I just didn't fit anywhere. I looked at the differences between my older brother and I, and found a key. I didn't touch drugs. I didn't go out of my way to avoid them; I just never took up people's offers. Andrew would come home and tell us all about his adventures on and off base. More and more often, these adventures became centered on his bar crawls, his drunken antics and sneaking drugs that would be undetectable on drug screens. I feared for his job and his life. He flew planes, shot guns and was in uniform. I was also enchanted by it all. It became glamorous, death defying and he was always the center of it everything. The drugs and alcohol were main characters--a central theme. None of it would be possible without that fuel. It was the adventure and glamour I wanted--but also the way he fit in anywhere, with anyone. After Andrew left the service, he continued, this time on the rave and festival circuit, with X--sometimes real and sometimes synthetic. The raves look incredibly fun, and the different music festivals he posts about on Facebook and Instagram look like such a great time. He presents as happy, like he is living life however he wants it--as if he is in control of it all. I wanted that more than anything! But it’s an illusion, like all of those pictures. I only saw what I wanted to see.

My Mom received a phone call one day. My siblings and I had a very complicated relationship with my Mom--she was an active alcoholic during most of our childhood, and has now been in recovery and has been sober for more than eight years. It was Andrew, admitting that he had a drinking problem and that it was out of control. He was going to start going to meetings and getting help. I didn't really think too much about it, until a month later, when he was back to raving and bar hopping. I asked him about it, and he told me that he isn't an addict--it isn't possible for him to be an alcoholic. He told me that addiction is in no way genetic, he had overreacted, it was under control and he had taken a break and it was all good. No problem. Looking back on my own experiences, he is wrong.

My life was great--I had gotten into a college I believe to be prestigious, and that was a perfect fit for me. The school was heaven, and I loved it. I was away from my family for the first time, and I wanted the kind of friends my brother had. Andrew's voice got louder than what I learned from my Mom's recovery. After years of being on the sidelines and winning dodge ball games in gym simply because nobody noticed me, I found somewhere I could start over and be just like him--be popular and cool. So when my friends partied, I partied too. I began drinking socially and smoking pot. For a month or so, my life was well balanced. My studies and my partying didn't impact each other. As the semester ground on, my drinking became uncontrollable. In a very short time, I was beginning to lose control over my life. Alcohol became my higher power--when I felt any negative emotion, my automatic thought was that I needed a drink. When I was happy, I wanted to celebrate by drinking. My older brother made it all seem normal, that I was just being a college student, that it wasn’t a problem at all. But the path that I was on led me into a dark place--I nearly lost my place in the freshman class, as well as the few friends I made. My grades slipped, and I was losing everything I loved. Within four months of me first raising a bottle to my mouth, I was drinking every day, smoking weed any time I could get my hands on it, and it was escalating fast and destroying my life. The smallest tension became a huge argument and lead to explosive confrontation. Who was I? Many members of our family struggle with addiction, but nothing impacted me like my brother's use. He continues to make that life look glamorous, but now I know better. Alcohol and drugs are not going to win me friends or fill up any empty spaces in my life. It took nearly ruining my own life to realize that Andrew isn't right about a family connection and substance abuse disorder, and I had to nearly destroy my life to see just how the four generations before me prove us both wrong.

I still love and adore my older brother. He is brilliant, funny and THAT guy--even clean. Especially when clean. He was my hero, my protector, and he was exactly who I wanted to be. I no longer idolize him, or want to follow in his footsteps. I am so afraid that he will use some combination of booze and synthetic drug and he will react badly to it and die. That is one of my worst fears. He still has not let go of his anger from our pasts, and refuses to seek treatment for his PTSD. He uses to mask his feelings with others but with his family he rages. He drinks to the point of blackout every time. He has driven wedges between himself and all of us, even though we love and accept him for who he is. He has separated himself from us, much like our Mom often tried to separate from the family in our younger years. This brings back awful memories for me, my own PTSD. He and I no longer have a relationship, because I cannot build a bridge without a foundation. I miss him, and love him dearly, but his addiction and his refusal to get help has created a chasm between us. He seems to walk down the path our Mom took, and that is the circle of addiction that I want to help people break free from.

Today, I have found myself again. I am in early recovery, and am working on bettering myself as well as my life. I am coming to terms with the consequences of my downward spiral, and accepting them with as much grace as I possibly can. I am still attending my dream college, however my major has changed, and my life plan has as well. I began to form a new plan with a new dream. I am now majoring in Psychology, with plans to work with addicts, and the families of addicts. I want to help families like mine, ravaged by addiction issues, because I understand them personally. I know what it is like to be the child of an addict, and to be the sibling of an addict. I want to work with people with substance use disorders because I know what it is like live with one. While in college I will be advocating for sober living environments. My dream is to help people who are affected by the disease of addiction, fight stigma and get on with the business of living. I want to be THAT woman but for all the right reasons. The first president of the school that I attend said in his final commencement speech, "Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity." I am not going to be ashamed. Not of who I am, of my addiction, of my family--as long as I am present in my life and do my best I will have won.

Finalist Essay: Kaitlyn Taylor

Kaitlyn Taylor of Orangeburg, New York, was one of the 10 finalists in the My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. Her essay talks about her big brother Colin's addiction, and how it impacted her. Katilyn attends Dominican College in Orangeburg. I'm happy to share her writing with you.

Overshadowed

By Kaitlyn Taylor

My big brother, Colin, has always been my hero and my protector. We had a lot to deal with growing up with a verbally abusive alcoholic father, but Colin was always there for me. When an issue would arise at home, he always wanted to shelter me from the fighting and yelling because I was his little sister. Even when I was at school, being a quiet, shy, and insecure girl, I felt a little safer knowing Colin was in the same building. As we got older, the issues at home escalated and Colin found himself needing his own escape from the chaos.

When we were in high school he began using marijuana. The abuse at home became more than Colin could handle and more often than not would escalate to physical altercations with my father in order protect my mom and myself. Colin began slipping further into his addiction. Marijuana was simply not enough anymore and he began searching for an even greater high, which he found in cocaine. In my eyes he was still my amazing big brother, but I hated when he was under the influence. When a fight would occur, I would beg him to stop fighting with my father and it was like a clearing of clouds after a terrible storm in his eyes. He had a weak spot for me in his heart like I had one for him.

In a few short years his abusive relationship with drugs escalated very quickly. He began to steal from our family to support his habit. He could no longer maintain a job and would often go missing for days at a time. We would not hear from him during those missing days and always expected the worst. My mom vented to me, her only escape, and I felt the pressure of not only wanting and needing to fix my brother, but also to be there for my mother. It soon became apparent that I was better at handling these situations than my mother was, so I felt I had to be strong for both of us. I did not understand why when I begged Colin to stop I no longer saw clarity in his eyes but rather a frightening emptiness. I remember going to a wake for a friend’s brother who had passed away from an overdose and seeing my brother in the casket. My friend said to me, "We knew this was how he was going to die, we just didn’t know when it would be." Those words still haunt me to this day. Nobody should have to feel that way, yet I understood what she meant all too well.

Colin began getting more physical with my father as his habits continued to get worse. He started adding pills to the mix and it was not long before he was snorting and injecting heroin. He had moments when I thought he hit rock bottom and was willing to go to detox and rehab, but this became a cycle when he felt he had no other options. He always used again and I began to feel helpless. There were many nights with minimal sleep because I had to drive him to hospitals to detox, and I began missing work because I had to drive him to rehab each time he decided to go back after leaving.  If I wasn’t driving him, my mom wanted me to come because she needed the support.

I realized his rock bottom was a lot lower than most other people's when he began to steal from my grandmother. Around this time I was away getting my undergraduate degree. When I came home for breaks he would ask me if I wanted to go visit our grandma, who had severe Alzheimer's at the time. I was thrilled with this idea and hoped seeing her would give him some reason to stop using. Once we arrived at her house he would always need to use the bathroom, and it was not long before I caught him with our grandmother's jewelry to sell to support his ongoing habit. When I returned home for the summer, my mother told me my grandma was dying and plans were being made to bring her home on hospice. My mother also told me that Colin had continued stealing checks from our dying grandmother’s checkbook and that he had also stolen $7,000 from me. I wanted nothing more than to break down, but I had to stay strong for mom who was losing her mother and had to deal with her drug addicted son and alcoholic husband. The day my grandmother died, I watched Colin sneak into the refrigerator to steal the morphine provided to my grandmother. I could not tell my mother and add more to her plate, so I took it upon myself to watch him.

For years I was conflicted with feelings of anger and resentment toward my brother but ultimately I loved him.  I went through periods of not talking to him and then forgiving him as he went through his cycle of using and getting clean. I knew it upset my mother when I would ignore him, so I would suck it up and forgive him.  I told him as long as he was clean he was forgiven for stealing all of my savings. When Colin started using heavily, I felt added pressure to be the stable child. I matured much sooner than most people my age. I could not understand when I would beg my mom to take action against my brother for stealing from all of us and she would simply reply with, "I can't he's my son." I could not comprehend this; was I not also her daughter? Could she not see what this was doing to me? My feelings and needs were pushed to the side and that hurt the most.

I don't know if it's part of his addiction or that he’s just a terrible person, but he picks on my mother's insecurities. He tells her if she kicks him out he will end up dead in a ditch. He calls her fat, and miserable, then tells her that she is a horrible mother. I have stopped asking her to force responsibility on him because of how he yells at her and treats her. I only asked her to because I know how much she does for him and that she does not deserve to be treated this way.  My mother says she is a prisoner in her own home and I feel the same way. I am stuck at home because I can barely afford school so I definitely cannot afford my own place. My entire family, including my father who has been sober for 2 years, has to walk on eggshells around my brother. I do my best to cheer my mother up when Colin treats her so poorly, but she feels such immense guilt and responsibility for the person he has become that anything I do or say hardly makes a difference. Through my attempt to understand addiction, I have read that a person stops maturing at the age they start using, therefore, my 26-year-old brother is still mentally 19. All he has to do is yell, throw a fit, and break some things in the house and nobody wants to deal with him. He knows that we will always love him no matter what, and he takes advantage of that.

I recently was accepted into a graduate program for Occupational Therapy and will begin in the fall. For the first time in my life I feel like I belong and I am doing the right thing. My mother has no money to help me pay for school and so that burden is on me. I am still trying so hard to be the responsible one and at this point I work three jobs, go to school, and pay for my own financial expenses. I am taking everything on as loans. I would be incredibly appreciative of the scholarship money. I thank you tremendously for the opportunity to participate but also for the chance to get some of my frustrations out about my current situation. Siblings of addicts are often overshadowed and for the first time in a long time I felt that my feelings mattered. I am very excited to take my first step toward a career where I can help people, people who truly want and need the help. I have pushed myself harder than ever to be accepted into this program. I know it will be difficult, but more importantly I know it will be worth it. 

Kaitlyn Taylor

Finalist Essay: Cailin Adair

Here's another one of the essays that made the final Top 10 in the My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. This one is from Cailin Adair of Rising Sun, Maryland. She studies bioengineering at the University of Maryland, and her brother's addiction has had a profound effect on her.

Death Wish

By Cailin Adair

A folded, blue piece of paper within a tiny plastic bag floated in the toilet. It was nothing I had ever seen before, so I fished the bag out of the toilet, unfolded the blue piece of paper, and read the words "Death Wish." At the time, I was in middle school and had no idea what it was, but it seemed strange to me that it was floating in the toilet. I brought it to my mom, and she pretended it was nothing, trying not to involve me.

Weeks later, I found my brother, Connor, in a position that I should have never seen him in. He was extremely pale and held a belt in his hand that was buckled into a very small circle. His long sleeve was rolled all the way up to his shoulder, and he just stared at me, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights. I stared back in disbelief. I never imagined that I would find my brother injecting drugs in our house.

This is when Connor confessed to using heroin. All the signs were there, but I was completely shocked. Yes, he was extremely skinny, was stealing money, wasn't acting himself, but he was still my big brother. I suspected he was in some kind of trouble, but I never thought my big brother, who protected me, and who I looked up to, could be addicted to such a hard, dangerous drug.

Connor went to rehab for the first time, and then came home after a couple of weeks. He looked great and acted himself again, and I felt such relief. I had my brother back. He opened up about everything, from when he started using to how he was going to Kensington in Philadelphia to get heroin every day. One day, we even drove through Kensington so my brother could show us where he went every day to get high. He was being so open and honest, and it really seemed like he was going to stay clean.

Then, he relapsed. Connor was constantly nodding out, money from my mom's bank account started disappearing, and some of my jewelry went missing. My mom would try to drug test him, but he would always say he didn't have to pee. Finally, he would give in and "pee" in a cup, but, instead, he would come out of the bathroom with room temperature yellow liquid (which turned out to be a mix of apple juice and water) that was obviously not urine. My mom would still test it and conclude that the test said he was clean, but she would ask me what I thought. I would tell her that I didn't think it was Connor's urine she was testing, so she couldn't conclude anything. She didn't always want to believe me, so she wouldn't do anything about my brother being high, which left me extremely frustrated and hopeless.

There were countless nights where I would listen to my mom and Connor argue about the fact that he was high, but my brother would come up with any excuse to say he wasn't. His addiction made him become incredibly good at lying. I would get so frustrated and end up yelling at my mom that my brother was obviously high and that she shouldn't listen to his excuses, and I would yell at my brother for constantly lying. Connor would finally admit that he has a problem, and he would either go away to rehab or get himself clean at home. I felt like my life was a never ending cycle of my brother getting high; my mom, my brother, and I all arguing; my brother getting clean for a short time; and my brother getting high again.

Finally, Connor hit his "rock bottom." Police showed up at my house one day, and Connor told me to answer the door and tell them he wasn't there if they asked. I refused, but he begged me and told me he just didn't want to answer the door or talk to them right now. He told me it wasn't a big deal. So I answered and told them he wasn't at my house right now, and I asked why they were there. They wouldn't tell me much, but they made it seem like it wasn't a big deal. They asked for my brother's and mom's cell phone numbers. My mom received a call telling her that my brother was part of an investigation. He was going to big parties, like wedding receptions and bar and bat mitzvahs, dressed in a suit and pretending to be a guest. He would steal the cards from the gift table, take out all the cash he could find, and throw all the cards and envelopes away at a nearby gas station. This crime sounded like it was pulled straight from a movie; it was too far-fetched to happen in real life, so I couldn’t believe it was happening in my life. Connor needed the money to get high, and he didn't care how he got the money anymore.

After all of this information came out, Connor immediately agreed to go back to rehab. But I had to face everyone I knew pretending like they knew nothing about my brother's addiction, even though the story, along with his name and picture, was on the news. No one really knew anything was wrong in my life prior to that news story. I was a straight A student, always smiling and laughing, pretending like I wasn't terrified that I was going to go home to find my brother overdosed on drugs and dead. This horrible thing that my brother did actually helped me open up more to my friends and tell them what was happening in my life, and it also helped my brother go back to rehab.

So, Connor went to rehab for about a month, and my mom and I visited him every weekend. He came home, and the cycle of his addiction seemed to stop. He got a good job, met a really nice, smart girl who became his girlfriend, and he seemed like he was back to his old self. He was clean for two years, and it seemed like he was going to actually stay clean this time. Unfortunately, these two years clean and sober ended last fall. It was an extremely exciting time for me because I was going away for my first year of college at the University of Maryland. I saw my brother two days before I left, and he didn't look right. He was eating cereal in our kitchen and nodding out, which was the number one sign to me that he was high. I just stared at him in disbelief. I was supposed to be excited to leave for college in a couple days, but this made me so upset and worried. I was so angry. I told him I knew he was high, and he denied it. So, I made myself believe that he wasn't high because I didn't want to believe it. I just continually told myself he was tired, he wasn't high. I didn't get to see my brother again before I left for school because he came home late and left really early. I left for school not knowing if he was okay, or if he was using heroin again.

I worried about him every day, and every time I talked to my mom on the phone, I asked how he was doing. She would just say Connor was fine. I believed her for a while, but, one day, I just had a feeling something was really wrong. I begged my mom on the phone to tell me what was going on.

Connor relapsed and was no longer living with her. She had to throw him out of the house because he refused to admit he had a problem, and he refused to get clean. He was fired from his job, and he totaled three cars, including mine, because he was driving while he was high. He lived on the streets for a couple days and my mom didn't know where he was. Finally, she got in contact with him and got him to go into a detox program, where he checked himself out of after one day. He stayed with friends for a couple nights, but then he didn't have anywhere else to go, so he agreed to go into detox again.

I started hysterically crying. Part of me wished I could be home so I could support my mom, but the other part of me was so thankful that I was away at school and didn't have to witness all of the drama.

It's summer now, and I am home from school. My brother has a new job and his own apartment, but he is still using heroin. I see him every Sunday for church and every Monday for a meeting at my church for addicts and families of addicts. Sometimes he looks good and clean, and it gives me hope. Other times, he looks high, and I wonder if he will ever get clean for good.

My brother's addiction has affected me in countless ways. For one, I have learned that I cannot control everything. I tried to do everything I could to help Connor stop using drugs. Much of my time was spent researching heroin to find how it affected the body and why people become addicted. The drug fascinated me. I also read a lot about different medications he could take to stop his cravings, and addiction groups he could go to for support. Since then, I have realized there is nothing I can do to stop his addiction; it is up to him to get clean.

I have also become a stronger and more realistic person as a result of Connor's addiction. There were so many times when my brother would go to rehab, and I would think, "Finally. This is it. He is going to stay clean this time." And when he relapsed, I would get so upset and disappointed because I expected him to stay clean. Now, I am hopeful that he gets and stays clean, but I understand that he may relapse and I am prepared for the worst. Even with other struggles in life, I seldom get upset about small things anymore. If something goes wrong, I try to find a solution. If it is something I cannot fix, I hope for the best, but I think realistically about the outcomes so I know what to expect.

In addition, my brother's addiction led me to become more independent. My brother and his addiction were almost always the center of attention, so there were many times when I was by myself and had to figure things out on my own. I learned to work harder to understand new concepts that I learned in school because I didn’t always have someone to answer my questions. This independence helped me excel in school and continues to help me every day.

My realistic attitude, strength, and independence have been essential to my success so far, and I believe they will continue to be crucial to my success in the future. I am currently in the Honors College at the University of Maryland and studying to become a bioengineer, and I plan to go to graduate school to further my education in bioengineering. With a graduate degree in bioengineering, I can conduct research to help create solutions to medical problems. As a result of my interest in bio engineering, in addition to my fascination with addiction, my dream is to conduct research to create better preventions and cures for this horrible disease of addiction. Because of the hardships I have gone through caused by my brother's addiction, I hope to lessen the number of people whose siblings have a "Death Wish" due to drugs.

Cailin Adair