The Is You My Friend? Essay

“Are you my friend?” my 15-year-old brother asks me for the fifth time and it has been only thirty minutes since I woke up. Still calm I answer, “yes”, because I cannot change my answer I have given for years if not he will be thrown off. As if trying to get through daily life is not enough of a struggle I have to abide by Justin’s schedule cautiously. Autistic kids tend to have a set itinerary. Included in this itinerary are morning and night hour long showers, snack time, and therapies that absolutely cannot be missed if not the day will be a catastrophe. In dealing with someone that has special needs it does not take learned knowledge, but lived understanding.

I did not realize a distinction between him and others for a while. I grew up using the word special and looked at him highly for being this. There was no ease into understanding that my brother had autism. It was more of a quick realization from one day to the next, which was what made me go about the way I did in respect to him. It was similar to a spiteful dog protecting their food. I felt the need to create a bubble of security and comfort for Justin. At the time, this was the only way I felt I could make him feel “normal”. Normal being defined by the majority of societies absurd standards.

One of our difficulties came when Justin began talking. You would think that socializing would be an achievement for a kid with autism, but there were many consequences that followed. A place we grew up and went…