Quickwrite #1 (1/5/16)

When I was 11, my sister was taken to the hospital for heart failure because of an eating disorder that had gone undetected. I was waiting for my mom to pick me up at school because it was pouring rain and I couldn't walk home. I kept waiting and tried calling her a few times. Eventually she answered and told me that she was on her way to the hospital, that my sister was in trouble, and that I had to get home myself. I was in shock, and I was terrified. The phone consisted of 15 seconds at most, so it was hard to make sense of what was happening. I called my friend at the time, and she said that it "sucked" but she had to go to dance, so that conversation ended just as quickly. I walked home, and waited for my parents to call. When they finally came home, they explained that Natalie was very sick, that her body was falling apart because she restricted her food and overexercised. At first they wouldn't say she was anorexic, but just had an "eating disorder not otherwise specified" (EDNOS) because she didn't fit the weight requirement. I became angry and so upset that I refused to see her. I hated her for being stupid enough to do this to herself and my family, and upset that now I was tossed aside. It was selfish and irrational, but I was a kid. I was asked to grow up and deal with the situation like an adult, but I was barely in 6th grade. To some extent, I think I failed, at least for a while. For years I resented her, for getting healthy, then sick again, and sicker still. In and out of treatment, sometimes out of state, jostled my family around more than a middle schooler would like. It took so long to forgive my sister and recognize that mental illnesses are not a choice, and that there are things in life you can't control. I matured and tried to help her, my family, and myself deal with the eating disorder.