This I believed
I didn’t get a choice. No one asked me before being born if I was ok being put into the situation I am now. I was born into it. It has become the only lifestyle I’m accustomed to, yet it’s not the lifestyle I strive to live. I want to have certainty for my future. A certainty unattainable within the circumstances my being has presented me with. A circumstance in which bounds my brother’s entire presence and future to my own, and is a variable I’m forced to retain. Autism has created a life of instability, a burden designated to my soul without my acknowledgment. There will never be a break from the realm of uncertainty that encompasses him. I am a slave to his mental disease, and there is no freedom in sight. I believed that mental illness affects more than just the pupil who obtains it.
No one ever told me what was wrong with him. I watched him play computer games as a normal brother. He made two cardboard houses with me as a normal brother. He loved me as a normal brother. Though as suddenly as I had grown accustomed to his tendencies, I’d discovered the truth behind the mischievous and obsessive actions he possessed. The new-found thought that my brother was mentally ill had transcribed my childhood into a miserable, incoherent chain of miserable lies.
The bond between my brother and I is one I cannot possibly fathom to not be possessed by other siblings; I know I’m completely wrong. The constant rants about hashtags or how boring NASCAR is ever since Hendrick Motorsports started dominating the track are variables upon the lives of others an unknown characteristic. Majority of the human population do not possesses a sibling with a tendency to freak out mentally triggered by a baby cry or scream in a restaurant, and repeatedly have to listen to “Why don’t they just hire a babysitter!” The ungrateful don’t have to worry about being financially responsible for another being who is incapable to work due to a mental illness. I didn’t get a choice; you do
His life has become an infinite cycle of undetermined decisions, mindless behavior, and corroded thoughts of animosity. Our family can only provide so much; ultimately though his senseless demeanor paves his future. The inflamed blotchy skin underneath the bottom lashes on my skin are water colored by the streams of tears perspiring out the corners of my emotionally exhausted eyes was once a figment that is now morphed into a reality. People infer I’ve grown accustomed to this lifestyle, yet the still unanswered questions and emotions haunt the conscious I possess with thoughts of negativity and darkness. His illness is corroding the little remnants of sanity left. Forgiveness is now a factor of life I revolve and depend upon when associating with my brother. Not because I want to forgive him though; because I have to forgive. I’m his support system. I’m his second mother.
The circumstances my life have developed the personality and sanity of my mind are indispensable factors in which impact my entire being; it is a life though unique to others in which I have evolved resilient from. I believed that it’s acceptable not to be satisfied with the living conditions you were born into. I believed that his illness is slowly destroying me. I believed that mental illness affects more than just the pupil who obtains it.
No one ever told me what was wrong with him. I watched him play computer games as a normal brother. He made two cardboard houses with me as a normal brother. He loved me as a normal brother. Though as suddenly as I had grown accustomed to his tendencies, I’d discovered the truth behind the mischievous and obsessive actions he possessed. The new-found thought that my brother was mentally ill had transcribed my childhood into a miserable, incoherent chain of miserable lies.
The bond between my brother and I is one I cannot possibly fathom to not be possessed by other siblings; I know I’m completely wrong. The constant rants about hashtags or how boring NASCAR is ever since Hendrick Motorsports started dominating the track are variables upon the lives of others an unknown characteristic. Majority of the human population do not possesses a sibling with a tendency to freak out mentally triggered by a baby cry or scream in a restaurant, and repeatedly have to listen to “Why don’t they just hire a babysitter!” The ungrateful don’t have to worry about being financially responsible for another being who is incapable to work due to a mental illness. I didn’t get a choice; you do
His life has become an infinite cycle of undetermined decisions, mindless behavior, and corroded thoughts of animosity. Our family can only provide so much; ultimately though his senseless demeanor paves his future. The inflamed blotchy skin underneath the bottom lashes on my skin are water colored by the streams of tears perspiring out the corners of my emotionally exhausted eyes was once a figment that is now morphed into a reality. People infer I’ve grown accustomed to this lifestyle, yet the still unanswered questions and emotions haunt the conscious I possess with thoughts of negativity and darkness. His illness is corroding the little remnants of sanity left. Forgiveness is now a factor of life I revolve and depend upon when associating with my brother. Not because I want to forgive him though; because I have to forgive. I’m his support system. I’m his second mother.
The circumstances my life have developed the personality and sanity of my mind are indispensable factors in which impact my entire being; it is a life though unique to others in which I have evolved resilient from. I believed that it’s acceptable not to be satisfied with the living conditions you were born into. I believed that his illness is slowly destroying me. I believed that mental illness affects more than just the pupil who obtains it.