An Event That Only Made Me Stronger

I'm adopted, right? Well, so was my other sister, Lucy. Lucy was probably abused before she was abandon. I wasn't. Her orphanage wasn't as good as mine. 
Therefore, she didn't know how to love
She had mental issues, and was on meds and doing therapy since she was three. 
When I was in 3rd and 4th grade, my sister and I went to therapy, too. It helped us deal with my sisters problem.

When is was in 4th grade, she went to Shodair Children's Hospital. I saw her on supervised visits. She was videotaped everywhere she went. She lived there for about 2 months  
Then, she came home. She was better for a little bit, but then got worse. She didn't have a mental problem like the kids at school. It was different, and doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong. 

When I was in 5th grade, she went to Intermountain Children's home. She was there for 6 months. We once again had supervised visits, and people would ask questions. 
After Christmas, she came home. She was better for a longer time, but then got worse. I rember hearing my mom crying in her room with my dad. Everyone was always stressed and anxious, and on edge. My 2 sisters and I were no longer the priority. 
We would take breaks from her, and go out of town for the weekend, leaving her at home with my grandparents. 

That spring, my family made a descison. 
First, we sent her to another family's house for the day. She liked it there and behaved.
Then she spent one night at the family's house.
Then, in April, after one night with the family, we let the family adopt her.
So now, that is why I only have 2 sisters.
But when Lucy came home from China, I wanted so desperately to be her sister. We coulda been adopted Chinese sisters. But not anymore.

And the worst part is, people ask questions. They make mean remarks. Sometimes they don't mean to, but they do. A couple months ago, my elementary school best friends came up and asked about Lucy. I told them, and they made mean remarks. They don't understand 
And I have seen her around town with her new family, happy, and loving. I don't want to keep in touch now. I thought I did, but I don't. But this summer was my birthday, and she sent me a gift. I can't even tell you how much that hurt me. 
You know, never ever, once in her life, did she ever say

I
Love
You
  
To me.
It is hard to understand unless you've lived it. Even I don't fully understand. Her pictures are still in the house, and some of her stuff is still here. I still cry often. But you know what? Life goes on. I never lost hope
That spring, I had the word hope written on the bottom of my left wrist in sharpie. 
No one noticed. No one knew. But I did. It kept me sane. And gave me hope.

Judge if you want. It won't be the first time. But this was a huge and difficult thing my family had to overcome. It made us stronger. 


~Abby