Carlie Russell

WRT 104 Th 2:00

My sister returned from Four Winds Psychiatric Hospital on my ninth birthday. I will
always remember coming home from school getting off the bus and seeing my sister run out of
the car to come see me. I couldnt contain my excitement. During her absence, I didnt really
understand why my parents had sent her away. All I knew was how much I had missed her. Like
some other families, my parents had a secret. Theirs was my sisters bipolar disorder. Trying to
shield me from the harshness of the outside world my parents had decided to keep this
information from me. To me this made it seem as though everything was okay all the time. When
my sister arrived home, she was the first one to tell me what had really happened. As I listened to
her story, I began to understand how she had suffered and how much she needed me. Being so
young, it was hard for me to be able to visualize her situation thoroughly, and to see the depth of
her struggle. However, I was still determined to help my sister no matter what, even though I am
five years younger than her.
Although I didnt understand at the time, my decision to help my sister taught me that the
way one responds to someone elses suffering can make a huge difference in both of their lives.
To a certain extent it can be looked at as charity. When there are people in need, a charitable
figure steps in and tries to help the people in need. Over the years, my capacity for compassion
increased, and it went beyond my sister and my family. I began to demonstrate my compassion
elsewhere. I acquired the ability to sense when another person was in distress or suffering. I
developed a deeper sense of empathy. I watched my sister suffer through all her mental and
emotional breakdowns, and her struggle to make and to keep close friends that would be there to
help her through her hard times. My sister had a friend named Ali, and she would always be
around my house and hanging out with my sister. One day, Ali was no longer there , never came

back to my house and I never saw her again. I had wondered for a while where she had gone, but
every time I asked my sister shed just say that they had fought and werent friends anymore.
Little did I know that this was due to my sisters disorder getting out of hand before she started
her treatment processes. Her and Ali disagreed on the way my sister had been coping with her
hard times and eventually led to them no longer being friends.
Simultaneously, as my understanding of my sisters disorder grew, my patience even
though tested time and time again became stronger. When my sister had manic outbursts, I had to
learn how to keep myself calm and in such a high-pressure situation. I had watched family
members get into screaming fights with her, trying to get her to understand their side of a
situation. Even when I was extremely young I had to be patient and work with her when she
would fight with my parents and test their authority. Everyone lives in his or her own version of
Hell and at that point I was using my Hell as a learning experience. Patience became part of
my everyday life.
Ironically, Ive learned a sense of self-reliance from my experiences. Once I became
aware of my sisters illness, I had to find an explanation for what had happened. I sought out
answers that helped me understand why the focus was always on her well-being as opposed to
mine. While I was helping my parents with my sister, I had to find my own way in the world. I
learned to be able to do things for myself as opposed to relying only on others to take care of me.
I never needed others to do things for me that I was capable of doing myself. I used dance as my
crutch in surviving, basically, alone in the world. My studio director and ballet teacher became
parents to me. Being that I couldnt drive, I would get picked up or dropped off by my ballet
teacher for dance classes if my parents needed to take care of my sister. I relied a lot on friends

as well to be there for me and support me on my journeys through life. My strong sense of selfworth.
I can remember the very first time my whole family talked about everything that had
happened over the years. Almost every night when I was younger, my family would sit down at
the kitchen table together and talk about how their day had gone. Right before dinner one night,
my sister had come to me and said that she wanted to tell our parents that I knew about
everything that happened, and that my sister had kept me updated about everything. Even
though, at the time I believed it was a horrible idea and that we shouldnt tell them, I knew in the
back of my head and in my heart that they needed to know. We all sat down at the dinner table
and we started eating as we normally had. Holding out our regular dinner conversation. When all
of a sudden, my sister asked if she could discuss something with my parents. My heart started
racing and I had butterflies in my stomach. As the words were muttered out of my sisters mouth
I was watching my parents reactions. I was terrified of what theyd say to me for keeping this
secret for so long, for keeping them from knowing that my childhood was basically ruined by me
having to be there for my sister. The words had finally been said, You know Carlie knows about
everything that has happened with me right? My parents faces didnt change; nothing had
changed. They didnt seem to mind that my sister had been telling me these things; in fact they
had expected it. This shocked and comforted me; I no longer had to hold things in.
Talking to my parents about the situation actually made things a lot better around my
house. I wasnt hiding anything from my parents anymore and I could speak my mind freely.
Over the years I had talked more and more to my parents about everything. We have all become
very open with each other and no one keeps secrets anymore. The environment in my house has
improved drastically, and did so in an extremely short period of time.

Towards my sisters senior year in college, she started having trouble again. She was
continuously having mental breakdowns and was in need of dire support from everyone she had
surrounding her. My parents would never leave her out of sight. They always knew where she
was at all times and if they didnt, they would call everyone she knew to find out where she was.
My sister had been fighting with her professors, them having asked if she was mentally
retarded due to her disability. No one understood her situation; no one knew how to help her.
She would regularly go to therapy sessions with people in the counseling center and would talk
to her psychiatrist at least once a week. The one thing she always had refused to do was take the
semester off and graduate late. My sister was the most determined worker I had ever seen.
Through all of her mental breakdowns, she still had the ability to graduate on time and walk with
her class. Not only did she achieve her goals of graduating on time, but she also worked like no
other to get above a 3.0 GPA.
I have never met someone as strong and determined as my sister. I have always been able
to look up to my sister as a role model and always will be able to. After everything she has been
through she has still upheld a scholarly lifestyle. I know I mean the world to her and she means
the world to me. Im not quite sure where Id be today if I didnt have her around to guide me
through life and dilemmas. I always went to my sister when I was younger for advice and very
rarely my mother. Id ask her all the questions young girls have as theyre growing up. She was
always there for me too no matter what; she would always be there to talk to me. I always
appreciated it the most when she would let me come and play with her friends when I was very
young. I always felt awesome when I got to play with the older kids and Id always go and brag
to my friends the next day about what I did the previous night. I had been so afraid my parents

would have thought my childhood was ruined when in reality this experience has made me a
very strong women with an incredible role model, my parents other daughter, my sister.
In my adaptation of the world my family created, I have acquired qualities that I greatly
value. Perhaps I have a sense of gratitude that I have matured so early by watching my sisters
vulnerability to the world. Even though I had to be a big sister for her occasionally, she was and
always will be my big sister and I would never ask for anything more. Of course, if I could have
changed the situation and made my sister healthy, I wouldve done it in an instant. But, the
reality is she will always be bipolar, and I will always support her and others to the best of my
ability. My sister is my role model and I couldnt be happier to have been able to grow up with
her by my side.