I have been awake for hours at a time in the night this last week. My family and I haven't heard from my brother for a whole week. I'm worried sick. Everyone tells me not to worry, but I still worry that he is in a bad place. When I hear sirens in the distance at 4:00 in the morning, I feel this knot in my stomach that wont go away. I constantly wonder 'Is he okay? Is he warm? Is he out on the street in this cold weather?' Every time I hear a news report of a car accident or a robbery I wonder if he was somehow involved. I have had a rough couple of years and my brother is a big part of the cause. I remember the first time I realized he had a problem. It was a little over 5 years ago, right after my divorce and there was a party at my ex-husbands house. I brought my brother along, and within an hour he had locked himself in a basement room with a girl he just met and a bottle of wine. For years I have blamed myself for his plumet into addiction. If I hadn't exposed him to that environment, this wouldn't have happened. In reality, I know it's not the case, but still, I feel like if maybe I was a better sister I could have helped him before he was too far gone. Little did I know, about the time I noticed there was a problem, he was already too far gone. Items around the house were starting to dissapear, and before long he had put himself in the ER a few times from mixing drugs. He agreed to go to rehab to our relief, but walked out a few weeks later. I noticed a trend, The only time he felt bad for his actions was when he was high. When he was sober all he cared about was getting high again. He was in and out of rehab for years, then finally he started to clean up his life. Eventually my parents let him move home. My Dad hired him to work at his business and was putting him through school to be an electrician. He was so excited at first. He told me all he wanted was to have a career so one day he could have a house and a family of his own. It almost felt like I had gotten my brother back from life that had taken him hostage. That was short lived. He started taking off to go visit his friends the second he walked in the door from work, and his behavior patterns became extreemly weird. All of my sisters pointed out his suspicious behavior and suggested that my parents drug test him. The drug tests came back negative. One day out of the blue he quit school and quit his job. He said he got a corrier job. As soon as he started his "job" he would leave early in the morning and get home late at night. He claimed he never got paid for his work. After a few weeks at that job, he admitted that it wasn't really a job. He was delivering drugs, and getting paid in drugs(heroin to be exact). He had only passed the drug tests because he peed in a jar a while back and was saving it for the day the family got suspicious and decided to drug test. My parents told him they were willing to let him stay if he really wanted to change. He agreed but the next day he took their truck and went of to go get high. My parents told him that if he wanted to stay living with them, he could never hang out with that group of friends again. He was so up-set by hearing that, he moved out five minutes later. I told him if he leaves he is going to die. Every night I pray that wherever he is, that he will be okay. That whatever happens he doesn't have to suffer. I pray that he will go to prison instead of the grave. I pray that he will come home or call just so we will know he is still okay.
I do my best not to think about it. I'm sick and tired of sleepless nights and days filled with anxiety. I know I worry WAY more than is healthy for me but I love my brother. Part of me gave up hope years ago, but every once in a while when I see him, I will see a little part of my brother hiding in there with whatever posesses his body now, and I don't want to quit trying, or quit hoping for something good to come. If I don't have hope, what else is there to have of him? I don't want to lose my brother forever. I never got to say goodbye, to the brother he was to me before his addiction killed his sense of self.
