Living with Autism

Living “With” Autism

When I was in elementary school, my parents began to observe specific behaviors in my brother that were atypical for toddlers his age. As a three-year-old boy, Kenneth (or Kenny, as he prefers to be called) should have communicated well with a limited vocabulary, shown affection on his own, and showed his emotions through verbal cues. However, my little brother could not—or rather, chose not—to participate in these milestones. Shortly after his fourth birthday, my parents informed me that he was diagnosed with High-functioning autism. Autism, as defined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, is a developmental disability that has noticeable effects on a person’s social, behavioral, and communicative abilities. Not all autism looks that same, though. From a distance, my brother appears to be a typical functioning person until you begin to speak with him. At the time, Kenny was non-verbal and preferred his own company instead of participating in group activities with children the same age as him. As he has grown and learned over the years, his communication skills have improved tremendously. However, he still has some issues with grammatical speaking and maintaining eye contact with the person with whom he is conversing. 

Truthfully, I can admit that I was not happy that my parents held me to a higher expectation than my brother. Temper tantrums in public held different consequences between the two of us. My parents attempted to calm my brother from whichever of his triggers had agitated him, while I would be punished and scolded for behaving in a way that I knew to be inappropriate. At the time, I had never considered the fact that I was better equipped to obey my parents in public compared to my brother, who could not tell the difference between acting out in the grocery store versus at home. I selfishly only viewed how his disorder affected me and how my parents treated me for a while. If we went to an amusement park, I was not allowed to have a balloon because it could trigger a meltdown from Kenneth since he was afraid of it popping. If I wanted to clean my bedroom, I had to wait because the loud noise would scare him and cause him to scream and freak out. (All the while, I ignored that he was extremely sensitive to loud noises.)

I would be lying if I said that I completely understood why Kenny could get away with certain behaviors and actions that I knew our parents would have punished me for. Before I became a teenager, I held unwarranted jealousy towards my baby brother. He had not asked to be introverted in a world that favored the extroverted. With time and counseling, I finally let go of my envy and focused on being a better big sister by advising him when I could foresee trouble heading his way. Most of the time, my help goes unappreciated by him, but I will never stop trying for Kenneth. I am proud of my brother’s progress since his initial diagnosis and the developments he continues to make even after he graduates from high school. Once you have met Kenny, you never truly forget him. I am forever proud to be “Kenny’s sister.”