All of my life I have been used to it; I don’t remember anything different. I have always lived with my dad, and my brother has always been autistic. Of course there was a time that I did live with my mom and dad, but that was only up to when I was 3, and I don’t remember it. Of course there was time when I stayed with mom on weekends, but I never really lived at her houses. She didn’t even live in Austin for that long so there really wasn’t that long of a time when I actually had a room in the place that she lived. I don’t think that I’ve had a bedroom in the place that my mom lived in since around 4th grade.

One day, only about a few weeks ago, I was lying down on our school’s green talking to my friend. She was saying something along the lines of how people come to realize things at their own time, whether it be about school concepts or things in their own personal lives. It made me think about a discovery that I had truly accepted to myself just this year; I don’t have the best mom. I say that not to say that she is a bad person, just that she hasn’t really been there for me. I only see her about once a year, and we don’t call or text, and when we do it’s on holidays or very brief. I didn’t realize this until my tech theatre class journals became more deep, and eye-opening about ourselves. This is where I truly accepted to myself that, ya, I don’t have the best mom. I told my friend all of this in my regular tone, and she said to me, “You’re very strong. You don’t have to be strong all of the time, you know. It’s ok to not be strong.”

It’s not that I am strong, though I may be. It really just comes down to how I have already cried so many times over my mom, that I’ve already not been strong. Whether it be that she can’t make her promise again about coming down for my birthday when she moved away, or that I was one of two girls who didn’t have their mom at Mother’s Day Tea, or when she was leaving after visiting when I was younger: in all of these moments, I've already not been strong, and now I’ve just come to be realistic. The sad truth is, I have come to expect less of her, so now it is just a surprise when I get to see her. She seems to take pride in the fact that she lives near my brother, as if it makes up for not knowing and seeing her other children.

My brother being autistic has been one of the biggest parts of my life; it has shaped who I am. When I was younger, I was embarrassed, yet very protective, of my brother.  When I had an all school play, my dad would bring my brother and I would be afraid of what he might do: make noises, flick his hand (which he loves to do), suck on his thumb, and clap at the wrong times. In 2nd grade, one of my friends asked if my brother was the guy who flicked his hand a lot and made noises. I started to blush and hesitantly say yes, but I will never forget what he said. My friend simply said, “that’s cool.” He didn’t say to make me feel better; he said it so genuinely that it made me proud to have my brother at the play. Other times, when we went  out to dinner, I would see the way that people would look at him and it brought out an anger in me that I had never had before (I was only about 8).

My brother and I’s relationship changed when I was in the 3rd grade, and it continued mainly through 7th grade and onward. My brother was unable to express his anger and emotions so he took it out on my dad and me. My sister got the blessing of never being physically hurt by my brother, but she was more damaged emotionally than me. She now does not like to speak of my brother, and she definitely doesn’t want to see him, which honestly breaks my heart. My brother and I were very close, so when he hurt me, it hurt more in a way. I had never expected my brother to target me, but he had and I didn’t know how to express the sadness I was feeling so I suppressed it. I didn’t tell anyone except my best friend and it took me years to be able to open up about what my brother did.During this time, I did not ever think that I was depressed or in a bad place, I just thought that this would be something that I would have to live with. And that over time, I would just become used to having to live with it because the thought of losing my brother over this was more painful than anything that I felt when he hurt me or my family. But ultimately, the decision for my brother to move away was out of my hands.

In January of my seventh grade year, my dad found out that he had cancer and that he would have to have surgery to remove it. My dad couldn’t have my brother coming at him or me or my sister while he was healing from surgery, so my brother went to go live with my mom for what we thought would be two weeks. This turned into almost three years. My dad saw how well my sister and I were doing without the fear of my brother in the house, so we all made the decision for my brother to continue his life in Kansas.
Soon my brother’s problems came back and we were very blessed for him to be put into a special needs group home in Kansas. He is now doing very well and has not had an “episode” in a very long time. My mother visits with him as much as she can and my dad has been up to visit once. Neither I or my sister have been up to see him/

This idea of me being used to my family situation makes me feel indifferent. I am not sad because of this and I am very happy because of this. When it comes down to it, I have a mother who I personally think is afraid to know me, and a brother who I haven’t seen in almost three years. I so badly wish for a really good relationship with my mom, but at this point, I don’t know what the chances of that happening are. I want to see my brother so much, but I don’t know if I can do it right now.

What I do know is that I have one hell of a dad and an amazing sister. My dad is the best person that I know. He cared for three kids, one with special needs, with so much love, for so long, by himself, and I cannot ever thank him enough. He is so caring and I hope that one day I can be the kind of parent he is for me to my own children. He sacrificed and still sacrifices so much for me and my siblings without ever asking for any kind of praise, though he deserves it all. Everything that I have in me that is good comes from my dad. My sister, though she can be the most stubborn person ever, is also one of the best people ever. She care so much about the people that she loves and give her whole heart to everyone that she care for. She gives and gives and asks for very little in return. She seems to have an understanding of people that I still find myself in awe of. I could not have gotten through some of the toughest days I’ve had without her and I will forever be grateful for her.

Each relationship that I have formed with my immediate family members are key to understanding how I am the person that I am. I’ve been told to be loved by many, and rarely not liked. I succeed in all the athletics that I strive to be great at. I work hard in school and my grades reflect that. To most people the life that I’ve lived and just shared with you all does not seem a likely one. All of my friends who read this piece were surprised to find out that most of any of this had happened to me. I am a strong person who had been through alot in my life so far, but I always wonder what my life would have been with my brother, and especially my mother, more in my life than they have been. While I love who I am, and wouldn’t change anything about my life, I will always have a place for my brother and mother waiting to be filled.