Guilty.

Who was this person? Did I miss something? Little did we know Christian was staring addiction in the face. It gripped his life with all its might… days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. 

………

For the last two weeks I’ve found myself at a loss for words right here. I don’t know how to fill in the gap between then and now? When exactly did we suspect Christian had a problem? When did I really lose my baby brother? How the hell did I get from there to here?

The last 4 years of my life resemble a distorted TV screen but filled with moments of picture clarity. The ups and downs we experienced as a family have become my way of life— my normal. We eat, drink and sleep addiction.Multiple interventions, rehabs and sober streaks all followed by crippling relapses.

“I think he’s using again.” These words quit packing a punch and became an expectation. It wasn’t a question of if he uses again, but when he uses again. I could predict how any conversation would go at any given moment with my parents. And you know what? I hated Christian and Michael for that… especially Christian. How could he do this to us? He knows what it feels like being on the other end of addiction. “How selfish,” I thought.

“She thinks she’s better.” I wanted to come through the phone when my mom told me what Christian said about me. “I think I’m better??? Are you kidding me?” All I ever tried to do was be better— to give my parents one less kid to worry about. As far as I was concerned, Christian Young was dead to me…

How could he think this of me? Does he not know what he robbed me of? Does he not see what he’s ripped this entire family of? Get ready for a plot twist. 

I did think I was better than him.

You couldn’t convince me of this at the time, but oh man, I certainly did believe I was better than him. We were given the same opportunities and you chose drugs… I chose life. You fall short and I work harder. I’m breaking the cycle, and you? You’re keeping it moving at an unsustainable rate of speed.

He knew how I saw him… just another junkie sucking the life out of everything in reach. I hated him. I couldn’t see that he was dying inside, that who he was wasn’t truly him. When I heard the name “Christian,” I heard, “screw up.” Judgement filled my heart and I welcomed it into my home.

I failed to open my eyes… actually, I REFUSED to open my eyes. I felt that as long as I stayed angry, then there wasn’t any room for letdown. You can’t hurt me if I stay hurt. You can’t disappoint me if I stay disappointed. And you can’t rob me if I stay empty hearted.

What I failed to see was this: Addiction consumed my brother as much as hatred consumed my spirit. I was just as guilty as he was— not better.