And I don't care.
I have always considered myself a compassionate person. I have always been the type to go out of my way for people, even someone I barely know. And yet, I feel nothing but anger. I cannot feel sympathy anymore. I found a letter I had written my brother in the fall of 2000, after her first serious breakdown, and I was astounded - I could've written it today. Nothing has changed.
I'm telling him tonight that until she gets help, she is no longer welcome in my home or around my kids. I am done.