DREW PROCHASKA: And he says, "Whale shark, you need to get in the water now."

And I do, because my fear of wimping out in front of my brother is bigger than any fish.

MARYANN EMERICK: In that moment, I decided that I was going to take care of my sister and my mom forever.

I was going to be strong and protect them.

MARY LIZ NOGUERAS: In our community, there's not a lot of opportunities for kids with special needs to feel like role models.

So Jayden felt like he had a lot to teach his new brother.

THERESA OKOKON: Tonight's theme is "Brothers and Sisters."

So there is no life like sibling life.

It is filled with deep love and dramatic breakdowns and moments that are just downright funny.

Some siblings are close and some are distant.

Some are friends and some are enemies.

Some are collaborators, and some are competitors.

No matter how much distance has been created between siblings or how much time has passed, if they're really lucky, they'll find their way back towards each other and fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

♪ ♪ PROCHASKA: My name is Drew Prochaska.

I'm originally from Reston, Virginia, but I moved to New York City when I was 18, and I just stuck around for 25 years, and eventually moved to the town of Beacon in New York, where I started a storytelling show called The Artichoke.

And how did you land on the name The Artichoke?

I actually did a one-man show about five years ago called The Artichoke Queen, and it was about a trip to Castroville, California, which is the artichoke capital of the world.

And The Artichoke was just a nice metaphor for storytelling-- you know, it's this pointy thistle, and when you peel away the leaves, you sort of get to the tender heart of it, you know?

OKOKON: Mm-hmm.

So it sort of worked as a metaphor.

OKOKON: That's beautiful.

- Yeah.

What would you say is your favorite part of storytelling?

Well, I like making people laugh, first of all.

That's my favorite part.

But I also-- I went to school for screenwriting, and I have a real appreciation for, for stories.

Mm-hmm.

PROCHASKA: I very much enjoy crafting a story like you would a film.

I believe that there are three acts that you should follow.

You know, every story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

So, I really like the... (chuckling): mechanics of storytelling.

You're a craft dude.

I am a craft dude, yeah.

(Okokon chuckles) So there were two movies I saw as a kid that made me terrified of being eaten by a sea creature.

The first was Pinocchio, when he's swallowed by the whale.

The second, of course, was Jaws, which I saw when I was seven.

Don't blame my parents.

Now, being afraid of marine life was especially problematic when you spend every other weekend on your parents' sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland.

Now, when I was nine years old, my mother gave birth to another kid, my baby brother, Matt.

Now, up until that point, I had been the youngest and therefore most important member of the family, you know?

(audience chuckles) And to make matters worse, this new kid loved the water.

He was an amazing sailor, an incredible swimmer.

He would jump off the boat and swim around the Chesapeake Bay as if there were no such thing as a giant squid.

Now, because my parents worked these crazy hours, I was often left in charge of him.

But instead of his protector, I became his bully.

Now, a few weeks ago, I messaged my little brother Matt to see if he could remember some of the things I did to him when he was little.

And when he messaged me back, I was driving my girlfriend somewhere in my car, so my car's computer read the messages back to me in that weird robot voice.

"You picked me up by my ankles and dunked my head in the toilet."

(laughter) "You made a cage for me out of wicker chairs and poked me with a broom."

(laughter) And the messages kept coming and coming, and when they finally ended, I was looking over at my girlfriend like, "I've changed, I swear," you know?

(laughter) Matt grew up to be a champion rower, a surfer.

He got work on boats, and he eventually ended up on the tiny island of Utila off the coast of Honduras, working as the head instructor at a scuba diving school.

Now, 12 years ago, my family decided to spend Christmas with Matt in Utila.

So Matt told us that he didn't have much money for Christmas presents that year, so his gift to me would be scuba lessons.

(laughter) And so I start to panic, because Matt knows that I'm afraid of sea creatures, but I had to accept, because I was "the big brother," and as I kept telling myself, an adult.

So in the weeks leading up to this trip, I start taking online scuba diving courses and I'm learning all of the things you need to know.

Like if you hold your breath and try to surface too quickly, your lungs could explode.

What happens if a current suddenly sucks you out to sea?

I learn about all of the pieces of equipment I would have to master, except for a dive knife.

So I messaged Matt, "What about a dive knife?"

And he's like, "What do you need a knife for?"

And I'm like, "You know, in case a shark comes at you."

And he says, "Dude, if a shark sees you "holding a knife, it's just going to think it's a fish and bite your arm off."

So, you know, when I arrive in Utila, I am wetting myself with fear, and Matt is just relishing in it.

And the night before my first dive, we go out for beers, just to calm me down.

And at a table nearby, there's a woman changing her baby's diapers and she is just wiping its bottom and it's disgusting.

And I give Matt a little nudge and I say, "Hey, you know, when you were a baby, I had to do that to you a thousand times."

And Matt just looks at me and he says, (growling voice): "Good."

(laughter) And that night, I didn't get much sleep, because all I had were shark dreams, you know?

And in the morning, I met Matt at the dive boat with all the other divers.

And I'm just red-eyed and hungover.

And the captain guns the engine, and he takes the boat on this semicircle, around to the uninhabited side of the island, because, you know, that's where the monsters always are.

So we jump overboard and we begin our descent, and it's hellish.

And right away, I'm just in a panic.

And the, the pain in my ears from the pressure is excruciating.

But Matt just puts his hand on my shoulder, and he lets me know that there's no rush.

And he is the picture of calm.

And by the time we get to the ocean floor, Matt has become my Buddha, and I am perfectly relaxed.

And that's when the circus kicks in.

And sea turtles just drift by this colorful coral.

Moray eels just poke their heads out from in between rocks.

Triggerfish and cuttlefish just dance in the water around us.

And it's glorious.

And when we surface 40 minutes later, I'm looking at my brother in awe, like, "This is what you do every day.

This is incredible."

And we're sitting on the edge of the dive boat eating sandwiches, and I'm just laughing at myself about how scared I've been my entire life of, you know, of, of sea creatures.

And then the captain says something in Spanish, and people begin leaping overboard.

And I look at Matt like, "what's going on?"

And he looks at me with a big grin and he says, "Whale shark.

Get in the water."

That's right: a whale shark.

(laughter) God has taken my two biggest childhood fears, mushed them together into one animal, which was now swimming directly towards us.

So I look at Matt and I say, "Are you out of your mind?"

And he says, "Drew, people dive their entire lives "and never get to see one of these things.

You need to get in the water now."

And I do, because my fear of wimping out in front of my brother is bigger than any fish.

So I'm in the water, and it's just bubbles, and I'm fighting to get the water out of my dive mask.

But when I finally gain focus, from out of the darkness, I see the mouth from my nightmares coming at me.

(audience murmurs) And I am directly in the whale shark's path.

And I feel this tug on my arm, and I kick my flippers and float out of the way just as this giant animal starts drifting past me.

And it's just this giant blue leviathan with gray spots.

It's as big as a camper van, and it's completely silent.

But I'm hearing "The Flower Duet" playing from inside of my heart.

Just... (vocalizing "The Flower Duet") And then with a flick of its tail, it's gone.

And when I surface, I start swimming to the boat, and I take off my flippers and I throw them onto the deck, and I climb the metal ladder.

And just as I'm near the top, this hand shoots out to give me a lift up.

And it's my brother Matt, the guy I had tortured so much as a child.

And his smile is so big.

I can't see the little boy in him anymore.

And I follow him onto my next dive, and onto many others, because I knew that with my little brother looking over me, I'd be safe.

(applause) ♪ ♪ NOGUERAS: My name is Mary Liz Nogueras.

I am the outreach and support coordinator for Massachusetts Adoption Resource Exchange.

And I understand that you're originally from the Philippines.

- I am.

Can you tell us a little bit about what role storytelling played in your upbringing?

My grandparents used to tell me a lot of stories about the way they grew up, and just what was important for them and their traditions, and to share what they experienced through their upbringing.

OKOKON: Mm-hmm.

So I understand that you work with Black and Latino adoptive families at the Massachusetts Adoption Resource Exchange.

Can you talk about the state of adoption in the state of Massachusetts?

So, there are so many kids of color in foster care waiting for adoptive families, but adoptive families of color are at an alarming low.

So, Massachusetts Adoption Resource Exchange is spearheading this new initiative for a coordinator to support and recruit families of color in the communities.

I understand that tonight is your first time telling a story on stage.

What has this experience been like for you?

It has been such a learning experience for me.

I am so nervous and so shy all the time.

This experience is teaching me to feel a little bit more comfortable and confident in myself.

Jose and I are 18 when I became pregnant with our first son.

He just joined the Coast Guard, so we are new to Virginia.

Jose and I have been together since high school.

We met in Hawaii and quickly fell in love.

A week into his first deployment, I am at the doctor's office, and they are telling me there's something wrong with my baby, but they need to do more tests and ask me to come back on Monday.

I did not know anyone in Virginia.

I felt so alone, and I was so scared.

Seeing my fear, the hospital-- the military hospital-- contacted Jose's commander, and he is flown back to join me at that appointment on Monday.

This is the day that I learned our unborn son has cerebral palsy.

They tell us that our son might not be able to walk or talk or go to a regular school or work.

I am so scared, and my husband Jose has a hard time processing everything.

The hospital social worker recommended we place our son up for adoption.

We were just too young, and we didn't have the experience to be able to meet his needs.

I felt so unsure.

All of the adults with degrees were telling me that I couldn't raise my own child.

I did not know what to believe or who to trust.

Jose felt helpless, too.

He is a fixer, and he couldn't fix this.

On June 20... 2006, our son Jayden was born.

He was born with a full head of black hair, just like mine, and he looked so healthy.

I was relieved, until we learned he was also blind and had significant brain malformation, which led to many more medical complications.

Despite everyone suggesting we place him for adoption, we decided to keep him.

But as Jayden grew up, it was really hard.

Our lives were consumed of multiple medical appointments, lots of tests and lab work, and lots of therapies.

But...

He is able to walk and talk.

(applause) Um...

Eventually.

But all that talk about adoption stayed with Jose and me.

We learned that despite everyone's suggestion that we placed him up for adoption, that adoption would have still been a difficult path.

Kids with disabilities, in foster care or otherwise, have a really hard time finding families.

So this broke my heart.

So Jose and I submitted our application to be adoptive parents.

But agencies keep telling us that we're too young, we just got married, and we have Jayden.

That we didn't have the experience, so we were not suitable.

Eventually, Jose is transferred to Massachusetts, but by this time, I've given birth to our daughter, Abigail.

Jayden is seven at this time.

He loves Power Rangers and loves anime.

He's very outgoing, and loves to be loud when he wants to be heard.

His sister turns out to be the quiet one of the family, except when she's watching Disney and singing and dancing around the house.

But as our family grows, we still wanted to adopt.

But like in Virginia, agencies in Massachusetts don't contact us for years.

We start to feel forgotten.

I stress myself out, thinking maybe they read something in our application that made them feel we are not suitable.

Could it be because of our age?

Jose's job?

Maybe because of Jayden?

Or is it me?

It keeps me up at night.

Until one day, though, Jose and I were in the kitchen, and I get this phone call from a social worker named Neil telling us he has our application and would love to talk.

Then I respond with, "I submitted that years ago."

He immediately apologizes and explains to me that adoption from foster care just takes a lot of time.

And this is when I realized that it wasn't me all along.

We immediately start taking classes and talking to social workers about the profile of the children we would consider.

We go through a long list of questions related to age, gender, and potential health challenges, and we say yes to almost all of them, specifically kids with disabilities.

And this is rare.

We are told they are hardest to place.

So things go from super slow to super fast, and the ink on our home study was still drying when Neil calls and tells me he has a little boy that he wants to talk about.

I meet him at Panera, and he shares everything about this boy's background.

His name is Emmanuel.

He is four years old, like Abigail, and he has cerebral palsy like Jayden.

So, I didn't even wait to talk to Jose before I said yes.

I just tell him that night in the kitchen and he says okay.

The first day Emmanuel visits our home, he went straight for the toys and immediately calls us Mom and Dad.

And Jose smiles and looks at me and says, "Well, we definitely can't say no now."

(laughter) Before he arrived, we obviously told Jayden and Abigail all about Emmanuel.

Jayden was surprised, and then he felt empowered when he learned that Emmanuel also has cerebral palsy.

In our community, there's not a lot of opportunities for kids with special needs to feel like role models or leaders.

So Jayden felt like he had a lot to teach his new brother.

One of my favorite moments that I have with my children is when we are home and Jose is home from a deployment, and we are able to share dinner together as a family.

Emmanuel's our third child, but not our last.

After we adopted Emmanuel, we started to host other kids in foster care.

And eventually Emmanuel's older brother joined our family.

Today I'm a coordinator with an adoption agency, and when I meet potential adoptive parents and they ask me, "What do you need to adopt?"

I tell them, you don't need a lot of acronyms behind your name.

All you really need is room in your home and in your heart.

Thank you.

(cheers and applause) ♪ ♪ EMERICK: My name is Maryann Emerick.

I live in Queens, New York.

I am a social worker by trade.

I currently work for a nonprofit, Huntington's Disease Society of America, as the manager of youth and community services.

So why is it important to share stories about Huntington's disease?

Well, Huntington's disease is a rare disease, and unless you're directly impacted, you don't know what it is.

So I think it's really important for people to know what it is.

And, you know, there's 30,000, that we know of, that are currently diagnosed and symptomatic in the country, and that's leaving 200,000 at risk for this disease.

So, the more people that know about it, the more people that can help.

What are you hoping that the audience takes away from your story tonight?

What I would love for the audience to get out of my story tonight is that whatever they're going through, whatever dark place they might be in, that there is light, and that they're not alone in whatever they're going through.

♪ ♪ I'm ten years old.

Me and my younger sister Samantha are sitting in the doctor's waiting room, anxiously watching the door.

Finally, our mom walks out.

We jump up off the floor and run to our seats.

We leave room for our mom to sit between us.

As she walks over, sits between us, she grabs us in her arms and says, "I love you both so much."

Big hugs and kisses.

The words that she said to us every single day of our lives, except today they meant something different.

Today those words meant that she had Huntington's disease.

So Huntington's disease is a rare neurodegenerative disease.

It's easiest to explain if you were to put A.L.S., Alzheimer's and Parkinson's disease together, you would get Huntington's disease.

Except the average age of onset is between 30 and 40 years old, and it is hereditary.

The night before, my mom told us that if she did test positive, she would just hold us and tell us how much she loved us, over and over.

As she was hugging us, I look over at my grandma hunched over her walker, crying with my aunt and my uncle.

All I could wrap my head around was that my mom was going to die of this, just like her dad and sister did.

I didn't cry, though, in that moment.

In that moment, I decided that I was going to take care of my sister and my mom forever.

I was going to be strong and protect them.

I look over at my sister, who's eight years old, and she's crying.

I try reassuring her that everything was going to be okay and that nothing was going to change.

But things just kept changing.

Within a couple of months, my mom's disease started to progress.

She started to fall more.

She became very paranoid and was calling the cops on different family members, saying they were trying to take her girls away from her.

Six months later, she had to be placed in a long-term care facility, a place that me and my sister still call home.

We would go see her every single week, and we would ride the elevators up and down.

My mom had this really big personality and had this light that just grabbed everyone's attention.

And she loved talking about her girls.

She also used to carry around this bag full of photo albums with, like, really embarrassing pictures of me and my sister, and show anybody that would look.

She was so proud of us, whereas I was just angry and frustrated with what was going on.

I tried shielding the decline of my mom from my sister.

I tried keeping that promise that I made to myself to protect her forever.

But eventually it became impossible.

Sometimes I couldn't even get my sister out of the car to come in.

She said it was just too hard to see our mom so sick.

I would get so angry, and I couldn't understand why.

And the more I pushed, the more Samantha wanted nothing to do with me.

Samantha started using different substances to deal with what was going on in our lives.

And what was going on in her own head.

I remember barricading the door.

She couldn't stand, could barely talk, and she would try to push through me, and I would just scream at her, "Look at you, look at you.

You can't even walk, you're not going anywhere."

I wasn't her sister anymore.

I was acting like a parent.

We used to joke that my sister was adopted because she did not look anything like me and my mom.

We... (chuckles) we have very different ways of expressing ourselves.

I can be very loud at times, whereas my sister is more reserved and calm, even when I know she's freaking out.

She is loving and protective in her own way, and has this beautiful blonde hair and green eyes.

And something I admire most about her is that she is unapologetically herself and knows when to say no.

I hated that my sister was using drugs, but I also understood I was spiraling out of control in my own way.

To help, I started looking for things that I could control, like food.

I used to count the Cheerios that I had for breakfast-- ten.

And I would have a half a piece of gum, so my stomach wouldn't growl, or so that people couldn't hear it.

And for dinner, I would have a sandwich with one slice of cheese, and I would cut it into 20 pieces.

I was suffering from anxiety and depression, but most noticeably, it was my weight.

And once you start losing weight, people are like, "Oh my God, you look so great.

How are you... how do you do that?"

And then all of a sudden, they're like, "You look sick, go eat something."

It was so confusing.

So when that started to happen, I just started to push them away.

Everyone except my mom.

I would go and see my mom whenever I could, climb into her bed, and just hold her.

Because no matter how I looked or how I felt about myself, my mom told me how beautiful I was and how much she loved me.

I was 21 years old, and I was at a dangerously low weight.

I weighed 80 pounds.

And my dad forced me to go to the doctor's.

The doctor told me if I continue any longer, I was going to die.

So I walked out.

I ignored him, just like I ignored my family and friends that tried to help me.

Later that day, my sister sat beside me crying and started yelling, "I'm watching Mom die, "and now I'm watching you.

"I can't lose you.

Please, please go get help."

We pushed each other so far away, I didn't think she even cared about me anymore.

So I agreed to start treatment.

For her, not for me.

A year later, I was still in treatment for my eating disorder and my mental health issues.

And I was able to acknowledge the fact that I did have a problem.

And I was able to say sorry to my dad and my sister for everything I had put them through.

And finally thank my sister for saving my life that day.

A month later, our mom passed away.

And I like to think that she knew I was on this healing journey.

She knew that I was going to be okay.

I don't think my mom ever knew about Samantha's addiction, but I know... that she would be as proud as I am of my sister for getting help and being five years sober.

(applause) My mom had this picture on the wall, and it had a saying, and she used to say it to us often.

It said, "Everything should be done with love."

And that's exactly what my sister did for me, and what we continue to do for each other every day.

Thank you.

(cheers and applause) THERESA OKOKON: The Stories from the Stage podcast with extraordinary true stories wherever you listen to podcasts.

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