Over the past week, I've shared
the winning essay and
the runner-up essay from the first My Life as 3D Scholarship Essay Contest. Today I start sharing essays from the other eight finalists, beginning with the entry from Amanda Keaty of Enumclaw, Washington, who writes about her experiences with her older brother, Devan.
As you read Amanda's emotion-filled essay, I want you to keep in mind two things: 1.) These heartfelt words are coming from a 17-year-old, which is truly amazing; and 2.) Imagine how difficult it was for the judges to read 30 similar essays and choose just 2 as the winner and runner-up. All of the essays we received were so good, and all of the essayists deserve to be recognized.
Here is Amanda's essay.
Aspirations Born of a Broken Heart
By Amanda Keaty
I live on a
roller coaster--and not the fun kind. With each unexpected twist, turn, climb, and descent comes a flood of inescapable emotions. It is a terrifying and
frustrating place to reside. However, I was born on this ride; I cannot change
its tortuous path and I must put up with it. As the younger sister of a heroin
addict, this meandering excursion represents the battle I face every day which
has dragged me through my lowest valleys, deepest heartbreak, and greatest
challenges.
The worst part
about having a sibling who is hooked on drugs is that our bond has been broken.
Devan and I used to be best friends. We did everything together, from watching
and acting out morning cartoons to playing hide-and-seek in the back yard and
sneaking into each other's room past bedtime just to talk. Once he started
chasing the dragon, he began to break away from our friendship. He became less
friendly and more irritable and he no longer wanted to spend time with me. I
could not figure out what had happened between us and I came to the conclusion
that he had simply stopped liking me. I thought that it was my fault and I
blamed myself for being too clingy and annoying. I tried so hard to maintain
our friendship, but to no avail; and eventually gave up. I told him not to talk
to me anymore after a simple conversation escalated to a brutal argument. After
having a few months to breathe and cool off from this stirred-up aggression, I
tried texting him again, but if he replies at all, it is with one-word answers.
I often become jealous of my friends when they talk about their siblings with
whom they spend time and who pick on them, even who they dislike or find
annoying. Hearing this always makes me envious and resentful because I would do
anything in this world for my brother to pester me like most brothers do and
for him to be involved in my life. Devan used to play jokes on and tease me,
but the more he grew dependent on narcotics and stimulants, the less he cared
about family and the more it feels like I do not even have a brother at all.
Since Devan was
sucked into this black hole of drug dependence, the essence of our family has
declined. We used to be the "perfect" family consisting of a mom, dad, brother,
and a sister who were all happy as can be. Every Sunday night was family night.
We cooked dinner together, played board games, and watched a movie that we
alternated turns choosing. When things with my brother went awry, so did the
entire Keaty household. We stopped having family nights, stopped eating meals
together regularly, and the unity that once completed us rapidly faded away.
Evenings were frequently interrupted by the police showing up at our doorstep,
getting calls from the hospital to pick up Devan, or with the regular fight
that had me sent upstairs every other night. Little did they know, I only went
halfway up the stairs where I sat and eavesdropped, but in the old, thin-walled
house that we live in, I would have been able to hear the yelling from my
bedroom anyway. As I grew older, my parents realized that there was not much
more they could hide from me and I began sitting in on the arguments. I’m not
sure which was worse--having my parents try to hide things that I already knew
or being in the room to watch.
While my parents
are often are caught up dealing with Devan’s jail sentences, court fines,
treatment centers, etc., I stand behind, faded, and merely exist. Although I
know it is not their intention, I feel customarily ignored, expected to figure
things out on my own. I am pushed aside as less of a priority to my parents. I
am "self-sufficient," they say. They brag that I am "the good child":
responsible, smart, and independent. Mom and Dad say that unlike my brother,
these qualities are natural for me. No,
Mom and Dad! The reason I am each of these things is because I had no choice!
I was forced to embody these qualities. When my parents were called to the
police station, I learned how to cook my own dinner. While they were out
searching for the runaway, I managed to tuck myself into bed at night. When they
were too busy to help me with my homework, I discovered Google as my tutor. I
stopped asking for help. Being "the good child," is not a compliment. Being "the good child" sets a superior standard to which I must reach in order to
feel and be treated like I am adequate. As "the good child," I feel an
obligation to be perfect. I am careful not to show weakness or pain that might
cause even more distress upon my parents. I seldom shed a tear in their
presence, even when there is ample reason to cry. I have become accustomed to
not receiving attention from my parents, so now when I do, I feel guilty. Too
much heedfulness from them makes me feel uncomfortable, and I have yet to
discover the reason. "The good child" is the strong one. "The good child" keeps
everything together. I was the one who would tell my mom that everything was
okay when she broke down crying. I was the one who had the power to sway my
brother's decisions. He was protective and had a soft spot for me, which
settled on me more responsibility. Each time he walked out the door after a
screaming session with our parents, I would follow him and tell him I loved him
and I could almost always convince him to stay rather than going and getting
even more high than he already was. After so many times, trying to control the
situation became another liability for me. Even though he is not living with us
currently, I still feel like I have to call or text him to prevent him from
relapse. And when his stability
caves in, I blame myself. By trying so hard to be the pure and unbreakable one,
I have instead, become more vulnerable.
As the younger
sister of an addict, I carry a feeling of emptiness. I am trapped by a
never-ending cycle of emotions that hides every piece of my being--my happiness,
my optimism, my innate zest for life. On this roller coaster, there is, of
course, sadness, heartbreak, anger, and frustration. There are also phases of
excitement when my brother shows progressive steps and I am filled with
abounding hope that it will finally be the attempt that does not fail. When he
relapses, however, I am devastated. I either sink back into a state of
depression or I become angry, sometimes at Devan but also at myself for being
naively hopeful and not being mentally prepared for the event. Sometimes, I tell myself that I am done
caring, but really, I just try to repress how I feel so that I do not have to
think about the situation or deal with the emotions. I cannot control these
sporadic feelings no matter how hard I try. I wish I could just make up my mind
on how I mentally respond to my brother's addiction, but unfortunately, it is
not that simple--the roller coaster does not pause. With so many surprises and
unexpected turns, it is impossible for my mental state to remain steady. There
is one thing felt, however, which underlies each stage of the circuit: fear. My
biggest fear is that by the time my brother rises back up to fight against his
disease, it will be too late. He has overdosed way too many times and has
survived only by miracles. I am scared to death that the next time he injects
the merciless liquefied substance will be the dose that finally wins the battle
and steals his last breath.
Most
seventeen-year-old girls go about their day with simplicity; they contemplate
their plans for the day and what friends they are going to hang out with. They
worry about relationships and completing their homework on time. I, however,
have grown up differently. The contents of my mind are far more complicated
than that of the average teenager. I have always remained the quiet one, only
talking when necessary or invited to and I am never a conversation starter to
those I am not close to or comfortable with. I am not one to attend crazy high
school parties for fear of being involved in what had once destroyed my
brother. Because of my tendency to observe rather than to speak and my
unwillingness to attend parties, some people have said that I am stuck up and
that I think I am better than others, which is the opposite of who I really am.
Afraid of being disappointed, I oftentimes push people away unintentionally and
avoid getting too close to someone who might leave me like my brother did. It
has always been difficult for me to let go and just have fun like a teenager
should because I have so much going on at home and in my head, which my friends
could not understand. No one knows what is going on or how I really feel.
Because I have been so preoccupied with my brother’s addiction, I feel like I
have missed out on my childhood and formative years.
What I lack in having
a normal social life, I make up for with knowledge of the drug world. I know
what it means when there is a tiny plastic bag on the ground. I know that it
was not a doctor who dropped a needle and syringe in the local grocery store
parking lot. Although I have never used, considered, or even been offered
drugs, I have witnessed firsthand the malicious greed that is addiction. Most
would not guess that I have learned by direct observation the truths of
substance abuse, for I have seen what no child should and have been exposed to
things I wish I had not.
Siblings
of drug addicts face a rare kind of pain and are hardly given the consideration
that they deserve. Because I know and can relate to that suffering, I want to
help brothers and sisters of addicts so that they no longer have to feel alone.
I have a unique opportunity already set in motion that will help me to achieve
this goal: "Battlefield Addiction," a
non-profit organization co-founded by my mother that helps addicts, families,
and communities plagued by the epidemic. One branch of the company is "The Family’s Battle," which directs and
provides cathartic exercises to affected parents. "The Family’s Battle" has taught parents not only how to guide their
children on the road to recovery, but also how to equip themselves to do so
while coping with the pain, restoring many broken families across the country.
This is my vision once the siblings become a point of focus. Having spoken at a
past event and my mom being a stakeholder of the company, I can help assemble a
branch specifically for siblings to be incorporated into the organization. My
aspiration is to bring hope to those who fight the same war as siblings of
addicts and to guide them through the demanding and burdensome roller coaster on
which we are all stuck.
Having
lived in the shadow of an addict, there is nothing I want more than to make an
impact on others' lives. Not only do I have a passion for helping people, but
also for science, psychology, and addiction medicine. After high school, I
aspire to become a Substance Abuse Nurse Practitioner in an inpatient treatment
center. I am working toward my goal by taking nursing prerequisites at Green
River College through the Running Start program, which allows me to earn
college and high school credit simultaneously. I have big dreams for my future,
which, despite the financial stress that the disease has placed on my family,
require funds to obtain. Earning this scholarship will ensure my enrollment for
three quarters as well as partial tuition of summer courses on my way to those
aforementioned future goals.
As
a Substance Abuse Nurse, my objective is to help ease the recovery process for
addicts and to make a difference in their lives. My brother once came home from
treatment eager to tell me all about a specific nurse who not only aided him in
detox but also continuously encouraged him to keep fighting, which motivated
him to take on his recovery with confidence. I, too, wish to be the nurse who
makes a life-changing impact on her patients. I want to be the nurse who can
mend the broken heart of a little girl when she is reunited with her real,
sober brother. While helping to heal bodily damage and ease the process of pain
and withdrawals, I hope to also gain a relationship with each patient.
Sometimes, an unexpected person can make the largest impact on others, and I
hope to be that for someone in the future. Every patient has someone back at
home who cares and worries about them. By helping those with the debilitating
disease of addiction, I will be indirectly helping entire families as well.
Being
the younger sister of someone who is enslaved to a substance is a complicated
and heartbreaking journey to travel. The emotions I have felt are visceral and
I have often wished this roller coaster would break down so that I could escape.
Although the road is painful and exhausting, all negative encounters have
helped me learn, grow, and establish my purpose. I have learned a lot about
addiction and its mechanics and I have gained insight to better understand its
root cause. Because of my experience, I have compassion and empathy for others
who are dealing with the same affliction and harnessed steadfast bravery and conviction in knowing that I can help others.
My older brother's addiction has scarred me in ways that may never fully heal,
however, I will turn these cuts and bruises into helping hands by creating a
light of hope in the lives of both drug addicts and their families.
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| Amanda with her brother, Devan. |
