Freckled Fighter

I've always looked up to my sister Katie. With her pretty pale skin and coppery hair I considered her to be the prettiest of my sisters. While she was never very lady-like that only ever brought us closer. She was the sort of girl that always stepped up for the little guy. Heaven help you if she caught you bullying or teasing someone else.

It seemed like she always had a skinned knee or some sort of bandage from the sports she played, and she always had a smile. Not to mention she could crack a joke with the best of them.

I was still very young when Katie met her inner demons. It seemed like she was always tussling with something inside of herself that made her scared and angry all at once. I couldn't say for sure when I first noticed the change. But as we slowly got older, she pulled away within herself.

She must have been so lonely, and as a child I didn't have the knowledge or skills to help her.

The drugs and alcohol quickly took over her life. She was still so young, and yet somehow she got mixed up in a whirlwind of dissociation and extreme highs. I didn't know back that the unhappy childhood we shared had broken something inside of her.

It was like she grew spikes to protect herself, and anyone who came near would get hurt. She wanted intimacy, and yet was terrified of it. Every day was a cycle of severe depression or soaring mania. Our mother threw her out of the house after she was arrested with marijuana in her possession at party.

She had her first child when she was only sixteen years old, and she was high on cocaine when he was born. The father was her dealer, and he was caught trying to make deals in the bathroom of the hospital while she was in labor.

That information may repulse you. I understand why. You must ask yourself, what trauma or misfortune could push you towards such a moment? Can you put yourself in her hand-me down-shoes and imagine what that must have been like?

Only months after her child was born she was in prison. Her drug dealer boyfriend had been caught with intent to distribute while she was in the car. She had taken a plea deal in exchange for information on her boyfriend's business, but he commited suicide, and DA dropped the deal in favor of putting her in prison.

She could not raise her baby, the man she loved killed himself and left a note blaming her for it.

I remember visiting her there, in the prison. She was thin, and too pale. The purple bags under her eyes spoke volumes about the experiences she faced there. The stories of her incarceration were something I would only hear when I was much older. The images her recollections evoked still haunt me.

I could regale you with the story of her life until present, but it would be a series of interventions, rehab, twelve step programs, DUI's and drug court.

You may expect this letter to end sadly, but if it had, I wouldn't have written it.

My sister is now a recovered addict and alcoholic. She has been sober for years, and raises her second and third child on her own. Her first son, a little copper haired boy named John is living with his paternal grandmother who never lets my sister see him.

The reason she is the toughest woman I know is because even through all of the horrific experiences she endured, she kept her spark.

Today, she is a vibrant, confidant young woman. She's seen more of life than most people her age, and has gained a deep well of empathy because of it. She can look at any person, no matter how close to rock bottom they may be, and treat them with respect and empathy. All too often in this world we judge others for their choices and struggles. Because of Katie I know that the kindest, most accepting people, are those who have faced their own demons.

After the cruelty and misfortune she has faced... it is a miracle that she can smile at all, and yet she glows.