As a little girl, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. I watched her closely so I would be able to mimic her moves and gestures. The way she swept her long golden brown hair back away from her face was beauty, at the very heart of beauty.

She was gorgeous, smart, always had the funniest thing to say. She was the very definition of everything I thought to be rebellious and cool. I thought she was so cool that when I watched her stick a needle in her arm, I wanted to try it too.

Soon, she needed saving. I tried to save her in every way I could. I felt useless when I couldn’t save her from herself or cocaine. Towards the end of that run, I waited for that late night phone call telling me she was found dead. She escaped the clutches of death over and over some how.

She found recovery, I gave it some thought. I took her to meetings after I’d just smoked up myself. The people were all so friendly and cool. I followed her into recovery. We shared that together and for a while, it was grand.

She’s the woman that lights up the room when she walks in. She has minions. She had minions. We were all so eager to do her bidding.

She started using again. She lost her home. She was hiding from me. She would say mean things to me in order to push me away. I wouldn’t budge. After all, I knew that trick myself.

I stayed sober, although life kept rolling and even sober life is painful (sometimes, I thought worse without the crutch of drugs and alcohol). I got into therapy. I was still trying to save her. Save her from herself.

She got sober again but it didn’t last. She quit her job, relinquished the job of parenting her child to her former husband. She had no idea where she would find the money to pay her bills, for a roof over her head.

She cannot get out of bed. She doesn’t have a job. She wants to die everyday. She isn’t a mother in the sense of the word that breaks her heart every day. She doesn’t know why. She’s locked in a vicious cycle of hatred and anger all directed at herself.

I cannot save her. For the first time in my life, I understand this. I have to back away, create space as my therapist says. Saving people has always been a hobby of mine. I am finding out that I am really trying to save myself.

As for her, I told her that she is sick and needs some medical help. I told her I will look into getting her some help where she lives. Then, I will drive there and take her to the place to get some help. That is all I can do. I cannot give her any money or rush in and save the day as I like to do.

I hope it works. I don’t want to lose her. I love her. She’s my sister.