I grew up in the shadow of addiction. Due to drug use by my birth parents, I was torn from them and put into foster care, and my father was ripped from this life. I was adopted when I was four years old. Whenever I questioned why, I was often told that my parents loved drugs more than me. I did not understand what that meant at the time, yet now I understand that addiction is an extremely powerful disease that disrupts everything in it's place, like a tornado tearing through the midwest, ripping up homes and lives as if it was the only thing that ever existed.

I was a lucky one, lucky to be adopted, especially with my younger brother and my older half-sister, despite many children never finding a forever home. Yet, we struggled. We struggled to grow as a normal family and us kids really struggled to feel as if we fit into this white, affluent, nuclear family town. My brother and my sister were always the kids that misbehaved at school and at home, and I was the quiet, obedient child that never wanted to bother anyone. I laid low, careful not to step on anyones toes, as I still do today. While I put all my effort in school, my siblings were destructive; to themselves and everything and everyone around them.

My sister has always lived a secretive life. Even when we shared a room, I never realized when she would sneak out at night and didn't even know she had a phone. Throughout high school she would do anything to fit in, yet at home she suffered in despair and anguish, just wanting the approval of others. When she was a senior in high school, she decided to join the US Air Force, and I had hoped that she was going to make something good of herself. And, for awhile, she did really well. After about two years, she was discharged and thus began her descent into a darkness that has not lifted.

I'm pretty naive, always assuming the best in people, and for a long time I did not know that my sister was using. Even when I was suspicious, I convinced myself that it was not true. Yet, after she had a child, I saw that I was looking at a stranger. When i went to visit her, I could see my sister but I did not know who she had become. She showed me needle marks on her arms from using heroin and told me that she couldn't think straight. I had no idea what to do.

I always thought that adoption was meant to end the cycle of drug abuse. This is why the state removes children from these types of homes. Yet, here we were, in the same place that her life started, the same as our mom and her dad and many others. My adoptive parents have rightfully been angry with my sister, accepting that this is how she will be the rest of her life. Yet, I don't. I have hope.

Last month, my sister failed a drug test in accordance with her probation. I had been paying some of her court fees, yet I did not realize that she had been failing to show up in court or meet with her probation officer and that it would get revoked. She told me that she needed to go to rehab and that she was on something. I have never used drugs and have always tried to stay far away, so I did not even understand what she was using. So, this week, I brought my sister and my nephew to Chicago and helped her check into rehab just for her to check out a few days later. It's hard to want something more than her. Addiction is so powerful.

When your sister is a drug addict, you jump when your phone rings. You try to convince others that she will change. You despair in each moment that you see her fail. You are tempted to cut the relationship off when she acts irrational. You read stories about other people you knew dying from overdoses and you hope that her life will be different. Yet, at the end of the day you decide to love, no matter how difficult it may be.

I love you, sis, always.