He Ain't Heavy

He's my brother.1

For seventeen years of my life brushing my brother’s teeth, telling him to go take a shower and helping him form full sentences has pretty much been a daily occurrence. My seventeen-year-old brother Spencer has autism. Almost every decision of my and life and my family’s life has been affected by him. Who cares if six of us want to eat out a restaurant--Spencer’s having a bad day. Now that I am finally living on my own and am three hours away from the constant chatter of echolalia I am just now realizing how much his autism affected my life, both negatively and positively.2

Due to Spencer’s autism he can become moody and anxious at the drop of a dime, making him like a time bomb without a timer. Every little outing my family would want to go on would have to be scrutinized for any flaw that would ruin the excursion. Will Spencer be interested in this movie? This restaurant won’t be over stimulating, right? Will the mall be crowded right now? But now that I am living away from Spencer I have all this newfound freedom I should have had years ago. I can enjoy the hustle and bustle of a busy mall or a movie that wasn’t produced by Disney. Although part of me wishes that I could have had a ‘normal’ childhood, growing up like this has caused me to cherish this freedom rather than take it for granted. 3

Since Spencer was born with autism (compared to those who develop autism due to their environment) I’ve had to adapt from the beginning. I’m probably one of the very few kids who had to deal with their younger brother chopping their Barbie’s hair off, but still seeming like an only child because I obviously couldn’t play hide and go seek with him. My parents have also had to give Spencer more attention, helping him tie his shoes or keeping him out of the kitchen (he has an obsession with food.) I couldn’t ask for help on my homework because Mom was busy changing Spencer’s diaper, who at the age of five still didn’t understand the concept of a toilet (besides to flush wash rags down as a way to avoid taking a bath.) From a young age I’ve learned independence, among other things. This has helped me now because I have no problem living on my own in the middle of nowhere of Boulder Creek. It doesn’t take an army of two parents to solve my problems; I didn’t have to make that transition as most college students do. 4

Spencer and my parents divorced when I was three and he was two. Since then we have gone back and forth between houses during the weekends, holidays and summers. Everything in my life has been in a constant motion like one of those sick roller coasters that turn you in five different directions. But through it all Spencer has been there. And now he’s not, just when the roller coaster gets the craziest. Although I don’t have to ask my parents for help and I certainly couldn’t ask Spencer (unless I needed to know every country and capital of Africa) but I find comfort in his perpetual nonsense chatter and earth shattering snores. Somehow, over the past seventeen years we’ve created this wordless bond and I know nothing can ever replace that.5

My brother, although I can’t talk to him about the upcoming movies or school gossip, I can learn so much from him. And I have learned a lot from him: patience, tolerance, independence. Growing up with an autistic brother has been hard, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.6