Like Ashley Womble's A Brother Lost

There’s no way in this world that I would allow myself to see my brother or my sister live on the streets. No one is born into homelessness; some have just been through a series of unfortunate events in their lives that led them to live as homeless individuals. For others, it's a case of psychological problems. No matter what family you come from, everybody is born for a reason. I believe that we all have one purpose in this life on our quest to becoming better people, and that is to take care of one another here on earth. While everyone is not perfect, we all do intend to live positively by some rules and regulations. I see so many people on the streets; some are judged by others and others just passed by them. Like Ashley Womble tells us

She never thought someone special in her life could be as homeless as those on the streets. Until one hot summer day in 2009, Ashley tells us “My little brother Jay left his key on the coffee table and walked out of his house in West Texas to live on the streets” (68). For me, if someone left their keys, phones, or even their clothes at home, I would say that person perhaps forgot about it, or just took a short walk on the road. But for Ashley it was different, her brother was diagnosed with paranoid

She writes, “In days that followed I spent hours with detectives, social workers and even the FBI, frantically trying to track him down” (68). She loved her brother, she wanted the best for him, but her brother believed that the conspirators of 9/11 were a group of people called “The Cahoots”, who had created a 24-hour television network to “monitor his actions and control his thoughts” (69). According to Womble, “In the year and a half that mental illness had ravaged my brother’s mind, I’d learned to lower my expectations of what his life would be like” (68). I can relate to her story because I have an uncle at home who is diagnosed with bipolar disorder. At times, my uncle will just talk to himself, saying he has “a business deal that he should take care of”; which he doesn't. Just as Womble tells us, “Weeks after Jay disappeared, police in Maryland found him talking to a spider and hospitalized him” (69). In the same manner, whenever my uncle took his medication which is “Divalproex Sodium”, he would have no recollection of what was said from the previous day before, however, in Womble’s case, her brother refused to take his medication. My grandmother took my uncle to a mental facility and had him admitted, but she was told my uncle should be the one to commit himself to their program. That was strange because how can a mentally ill person know how to make