The Hardest Part

Hey readers!

I've been writing on here for a while, sharing what it's like to have an Autistic sibling. But that is only one person's point of view. Mine.

So tonight I decided to postpone the post I planned to put up and ask my family one simple question.

"What is the hardest part about having Bill as a member of your family?"

Their answers may surprise you.

Dad: "He is draining. He has a relentless desire to obtain stuff and is never satisfied. He is never ever grateful for anything. It is exhausting."

H: "He doesn't get it. He never understands. When I am upset he doesn't know why. I wish he would empathise with me, but he just can't."

Two very different answers. And both in complete relation to the person and their character.

Dad is a hard worker, persistant and smart. He works 7 until 7 everyday, and yet he has to come home to Bill wanting something new. Some coins on some online game, a new Eugio mat. But when he gets it, it doesn't necassarily mean that he is happy. Or says thank you. Ever.

But I have personally grown to have extremely low expectations of him. The other day, I was upstairs baking some cupcakes. Bill yelled up at me from the downstairs lounge room "Edi! I have a cramp in my foot! Get down here now and fix it!" Agitated by his tone, I simply yelled back, "Walk it off!" He yelled back confused, so I explained in a kind tone that if he walks or jogs around the cramp will go away. Then came the big two words.

"Thanks Eds!"

I couldn't believe it. I teared up. He not only used a nickname for me, but thanked me for doing something for him. He has never thanked me, at least that I can remember.

To 'normal' families, that wouldn't be a big deal. I'm sure their kids say please and thank you all the time. But to hear it come from Will, it broke my heart. But in a good way.

So to say that I see where Dad is coming from is an understatement. And I feel the exact same way about what H said.

Again, my answer is different.

The hardest part about having Bill as my brother is the double standards. I cannot deal with it. I spend my weekends and afternoons studying. In fact, this weekend I have exactly 41 things to do to ensure that I am prepared for the next two weeks of exams. Not exactly what I want to be doing (Netflix...) I get home at 4 everyday and study until at least 9pm. That is at least. My weekends have few social events because of the pressure I put on myself. And that is no ones fault, it's just me. But it isn't easy when I look at Bill, who gets home from school at 12pm and plays on his computer until he goes to bed. That is also how he spends his weekends. And he gets a big round of applause and a cheer for passing a class (C-), whereas an A is just the norm for me now. It really is complete double standards. And it is hard.

The most important person though, the Mum. The person who is always there, loving, nurturing, and mothering.

Mum: "Protecting him from himself. He has no impulse control, and I sometimes I just can't do it. I can't stop the repurcussions from his actions from affecting him. And he gets hurt. Then Edi and H and Dad get hurt. I just wish I could always look after him. But the hardest part is when you realise you can't stop the world from hurting them."

And that is why Mum is my hero.

Love,

E.