A Mile in Smaller Shoes

The following is an interview I conducted with my 7-year-old, neurotypical brother. My objective was to gain a fuller understanding of his day-to-day life and of his relationship with his brother, who is a mere 17 months older than him and has Autism.

May all of us move toward greater respect for and understanding of one another.

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Q1: Tell me about you.

A1: I like to build, play with my friends, and play with my brother. I like to watch superhero shows, Star Wars shows, and just anything that has a lot of action. I like action. I like superhero Legos, Star Wars Legos, and all kinds of Legos. The only [Legos] I don’t really like are Lego City Legos, because they’re just a little bit boring to me. Also, little boys are just superheroes in disguise. I can’t clean my room AND save the world. Can any kid do that? And I’ve gone to Disneyland before; that’s another thing about me. I like to read; I like to do crafts. I like to learn stuff before mom teaches me it, just like [she taught] you! You like to ask questions, too, just like me. I have a super amazing brother-in-law. And the most important thing is to spend time with your family.

Q2: Tell me about your family.

A2: My oldest brother is twenty; he likes video games and he likes building. My sister Samantha…[laughter]…she’s a really teasing person! My dad…whenever I come home with a friend, he always hides behind a bush and then sounds like a dog or a werewolf trying to scare me! My mom…she’s the most loving person in the world. And I am so loving to her! And she loves the whole entire family. My sister Kate…she got married last year to this person named Aaron! Kate likes reading boring books, and she likes spending time with her family. And Aaron, on the other hand, likes video games and building with Legos, just like me! And he likes jumping on the trampoline with me and my other brother, and he also likes playing outside: football, tennis, baseball, and also soccer. He is kind of an athletic person. And that’s all I have to say about my family.

Q3: Tell me about your brother JD.

A3: Well, he has a little bit of a hard time understanding. He can’t understand feelings; he can’t. His brain doesn’t talk to his muscles the same way that our brains do. So when we are just play fighting, he actually fights. And he has been wandering sometimes, and he has been destroying my stuff, and now we need to put a lock on my door because he has been destroying so many things. He dumped out a whole box of action figures and Legos, and he might have stolen something from my wallet, but I don’t know yet. And a little bit of the time, he shares toys. He’s a loving brother. And that’s all I have to say about JD!

Q4: Tell me about your average day.

A4: My average day is playing with one friend or two friends, and I always build once or twice a day. I always make a craft once or twice a day, and I always make a robot maybe once a week. I build things out of stuff from the recycling bin. Look, I built a robot on the way in! [Shows me his robot.] I always watch TV on my big iPad, and mostly every single morning I eat yogurt for breakfast. That’s all about my average days!

Q5: What do you like to do outside?

A5: I like to go through the slide, and it’s kind of twisty! It sometimes makes me kind of going to throw up! I like to play on the swings. I like to jump on the trampoline. I like to ride bikes with my friends, and I like to ride scooters. Did I already say I like to jump on the trampoline? I did? Ok. Oh, I like to play football! I like to run in our big backyard. I like to play in our sandbox. And that’s it!

Q6: What is your biggest fear?

A6: One of my biggest fears is JD going to [residential treatment]. And I’ve kind of grown out of my fear of being in a dark room. I just overcame it. I have a fear of my brother JD destroying my Lego sets, because then all of my Lego sets would be destroyed, and I would have to build them again, and that would take a very, very long time. And I don’t have another fear.

Q7: How do you feel about JD possibly going back to the hospital?

A7: Happy and sad. You know why? Because he needs residential treatment. But I know he’s going to come home and then go back like two days later. Nothing works for him! We’ve tried new meds, we’ve tried new therapy, and nothing works! And when he’s at the hospital, I can build Legos in the loft without him destroying them. And now that mom and dad are putting a lock on my door, I can hide in my room when he has meltdowns instead of hiding in mom and dad’s room.

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If you have a sibling interview you would like to share, please comment on this post or email me at siblingsofautistickids@yahoo.com.

Much love,

Kate

The Hallway

The following is a guest post by my mother. Her voice has been an inspiration in my life, and a snapshot of her journey is transparently described here. Read, comment, share.

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It’s a very long hallway. And it never gets easier. Coming in, he is with me. I am carrying a large bag of his clothing, carefully checked to make sure that every item has his initials written in permanent ink and that nothing included has drawstrings or shoe laces. He is carrying a favorite stuffed animal. He is hopping as we walk, tossing his beloved stuffie up in the air, stopping once in awhile to pick it up when he misses the catch. Just two hours earlier, he was gone. Not in the physical sense, but I couldn’t reach him. His eyes were looking through me as he was in yet another aggressive meltdown. Fear overwhelmed me and his dad, and we were scared for his safety, our safety, and the safety of our youngest son. He tried running out into the busy road again. So here we are, walking down this never ending hallway once more.

We have walked down this hall many times. It always begins with my boy by my side. And then, in the following days and sometimes weeks, I walk with my husband and we meet with teams of doctors, nurses, and social workers. And then, eventually, usually when insurance has decided that his stay has been long enough, we walk out in the same manner as we walked in. A large bag in my arms, and a stuffed animal in my son’s.

I wish I could say that we have taken our final walk. Sometimes it feels like we have just begun the course, the same one that we have been on for the last 7 years. Sometimes it feels like we are too exhausted to take another step. And yet we will keep walking, because this little boy needs someone to stand up for him so that he can get the help that he needs and deserves. We hope that insurance gets easier to work with in the near future, not just for our son, but for everyone who walks this same hallway. We will continue to watch for open doorways that will lead us in the right direction to find the resources that will help on this long journey that lay ahead.

Milestones

My brothers JD and Nate are seventeen months apart. JD is nine; Nate is seven. JD has Autism. Nate does not. When Nate and JD were babies, they were a lot alike. Both of them cried a lot, ate a lot, and liked the same TV shows and the same toys.

As time passed, my brothers’ similarities became less pronounced, and their inherent differences started revealing themselves. The traits which had existed simultaneously in each of them during the simple days of babyhood began to lose their identicalness, and Nate began to surpass JD in small ways, then in bigger ways, then in the biggest ways.

Although JD was older, Nate was successfully toilet-trained first. By the time Nate was three and JD was five, Nate was talking in fuller and more correct sentences than JD was. My family and I observed these milestones with a sense of bittersweet pride; Nate was growing up so fast and successfully reaching all the milestones typical for a boy his age. On the same hand we longed impatiently for the day when JD, too, would achieve these oft-taken-for-granted developmental successes.

As time passed, the differences between my brothers became more and more clear-cut and less and less ignorable. I remember being so proud the day Nate learned to ride a bike without training wheels, and the day he learned to count to one hundred, and the day he learned to read. And I remember at the very same time watching JD, who was seventeen months older, struggle to count to five or learn his alphabet or ride a bike with training wheels. And I remember wondering how I was supposed to feel about all of it. I still don’t know quite how to feel.

There is no timeline for these things, you see. No doctor ever handed my family a milestone map for JD and said, “He will be toilet-trained by age five, learn to read by age ten, and ride a bike by age twelve,” because nobody knew and nobody knows. JD is in the hospital right now, and his doctors want to send him to a more specialized facility, but the facility won’t accept him because his IQ is too low. Nothing can prepare a family for news like that. In contrast, Nate is excelling in his schooling and retains information like a sponge. Why is life not fair?

I anticipate the milestones will be harder to watch as my brothers get older. Nate will likely learn to drive before JD does; he will likely finish school before JD does; he will likely live on his own before JD does. In reality, Jon may never do these things. By saying this I am not trying to be pessimistic; however, I do find merit in remaining realistic. I do not want my readers to think, because of something I have written or neglected to write, that I am somehow less proud of JD than I am of Nate. This is the farthest thing from the truth, and while JD historically has reached developmental milestones later than Nick has, the milestones JD has reached have been incredible successes and ones which have been celebrated emphatically by me and my family. My purpose with this post is not to unevenly divide my pride between my brothers, but rather to bring awareness to the fact that no two developmental maps are exactly alike.

Earlier today I spoke to my mom on the phone and asked her how she felt about Nate reaching crucial milestones before JD. “It’s odd,” she told me. “I think we’ve always known that Nate would surpass JD at some point, but it’s a strange thing to watch now that it’s actually happening.”

I agree with her.

 

More later,

Kate

 

If the topic of this post is something you have experienced or are currently experiencing, I would love to hear your perspective and thoughts. Please leave a comment on this post or email me at siblingsofautistickids@yahoo.com.

Dear Society: It’s Us, the Siblings

My 7-year-old brother Nate slept over at mine and my husband’s house last Friday. We took him to his first baseball game that night, where he ate a pretzel; caught a baseball; cuddled with the stuffed animal he had brought; asked questions constantly; ate a snow cone, and watched fireworks with a dropped jaw and a sparkle in his eyes like a 7-year-old should.

I have two brothers under the age of 10. The older of the two, JD, is 9 years old and has Classic Autism. The younger of the two, Nate, (the one about whom this post is written), does not have Autism but lives with it on a daily basis nonetheless.

The night of the baseball game, we got home around 10:30 PM. Nate and my husband played video games for a while before Nate said he was tired and wanted to go to sleep. As I was putting Nate to bed, we had a conversation that I will never forget.

Nate: “Tonight was fun. Thank you guys so much for inviting me.”

Me: “You’re welcome, buddy! We are so happy you’re here.”

Nate: “I’m happy I’m here, too. I can’t sleep very well at my house because I worry about JD.”

Me: “Why do you worry?”

Nate: “I worry that he’s going to run away. I’m starting Karate lessons so I know how to help JD when he has meltdowns, and so I know how to protect myself if he attacks me.”

Before this conversation, I didn’t know about the Karate lessons. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal; lots of 7-year-old boys and girls take karate lessons to learn self-defense.

But how many of them take lessons to learn how to defend themselves against their sibling?

That night I couldn’t sleep very well. There were so many thoughts running through my head. As a big sister, I was heartbroken and confused. Why should a 7-year-old boy lose sleep over the fear that his older brother is going to run away in the middle of the night or attack him while he’s sleeping? Why should a 7-year-old boy have to take Karate lessons for any reason other than for fun?

Lots of people talk about Autism Awareness as it pertains to the people who have been diagnosed with Autism. I don’t, however, hear many people talking about Autism Awareness as it pertains to the siblings of those who have been diagnosed. This is a shame because there is so much to be aware of. The sub-title of this blog, “Life with Autism as Told by a Sibling,” is poignant because siblings of people with Autism live with Autism, too; so many siblings – some young and some old – battle with fear and uncertainty every single day.

I once asked Nate what the scariest moment of his life was. He told me it was the time JD attacked our mom and we had to call 911. Nate told me he hid on the staircase as the police cars and fire trucks pulled up to our house. He told me he didn’t know if JD was going to stay here or be taken away. He told me there was a nice fireman who came up to him (Nate) and asked him how he was doing and then gave him a fireman sticker. Nate told me that when JD was attacking our mom, he wanted to jump in and pull JD away from her, but he was afraid he wasn’t strong enough. He told me that ever since that day, he has been working out to get stronger so that next time that happens, he’ll be ready.

These fears are real. These kids have to try harder than most to remember to be kids. Where is society’s awareness of that?

I know what we can do. We can look for these siblings because they are all around us. We can look for the child who is standing a little taller because he feels like he has to. We can look for the girl who is translating for her older brother because her dad doesn’t know what is being said. We can look for the child who is trying to calm down their sister who is having a meltdown in the middle of the grocery store. We can listen to the child who says he’s taking Karate lessons so he can defend himself against his brother.

And we can love. We can give high-fives when a celebration is in order. We can ask parents how we can help. We can get involved in a mentorship program. We can join an Autism walk as a sibling team. We can smile with these children, and we can cry with these children. We can do so very much.

Dear Society,

Siblings deserve awareness. Please pay attention.

Until the World is Young

The other day I went gift shopping. It was my brother JD’s birthday, and he was turning 9. JD is a beautiful boy with dark hair, dark eyes, an adorable smile, an unmatchable knowledge of all-things-animals, and Autism.

Among JD’s favorite things are sharks, Minions, water, the color pink, and TV shows like Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood and Bubble Guppies. Gift giving is by no means my love language, as was made manifest by my choice to go shopping a half hour before his birthday party started. I assumed this would be more than enough time to find the perfect gift, but little did I know how wrong I was.

The first place I looked for a gift was in the toy section. I scanned the shelves for anything to do with something JD loves. I found some water toys, but they were all geared toward 2 to 4-year-olds. I found a section of lawn chairs with Minions on them, but the chairs were so small my 9-year-old brother wouldn’t be able to fit in them. I found a pretend lawn mower you could push to make bubbles, but the bubble lawn mower was so short my brother would have had to lean down quite a bit to reach it. It, too, was “made for 2 to 4-year-olds”.

Then I arrived at the toys for 8 to 10-year-old boys. What I found were action figures, plastic guns, plastic swords, and complicated materials with which to design buildings and other things. JD wouldn’t like any of this, I thought.

After failing to find my jackpot in the toy section, my next thought was that I could buy him a t-shirt or something, so I walked over to the boys’ clothing section. There I saw racks and racks of t-shirts and shorts with Minions, sharks, and other water animals on them. This is perfect, I thought. Then I looked at the sizes. The t-shirts ran no bigger than a size 6 and the shorts no bigger than a size 4. My brother is a size 10 in t-shirts and a size 8 in shorts. This might be a problem, I thought.

I walked a bit farther until I arrived at the section with boys’ sizes 8 to 10. No more sharks and Minions here – those things were loudly-and-clearly made for a younger crowd. In the 8 to 10 section, I saw only neutral-colored Nike shirts, plain shorts, and the occasional bright shirt with some sporty phrase on it.

9 years of birthday and holiday shopping for JD, and never before had I been hit with a realization as profound as the one with which I was hit that day: The world is outgrowing my brother.

And then the thoughts kept spilling in.

What about the 8, 9, and 10-year-old boys who still want to play with bubble lawn mowers?

What about the pre-teen boys who want to wear t-shirts with dinosaurs on them?

What about the teenage boys who still want to watch Nick Jr. when others their age are watching PG-13s?

What about the Peter Pans of our society?

According to the latest statistics from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 1 in 68 children in the United States of America has been diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Disorder. Why should 1 in every 68 children have to walk into a store and leave disappointed because Dora the Explorer shoes are “only made for toddlers, darling”? Why should 1 in 68 children have to give up their favorite things when those things are still their favorite?

Now, I understand enough about business to know that clothing and toy manufacturers cater to the majority, meaning they’re not going to produce a ton of Minion products for 9-year-olds when only a few children would want to wear them. I also understand and appreciate stores such as Toys R Us, who have created and are continuing to create resources for differently-abled children and their families. But I do think we still have an issue here that needs to be addressed, and I know this problem goes far beyond retail. We’ll see it if we look for it. For example, most restaurants have an age limit on kids’ menus. What will happen when 1 in 68 12-and-a-half-year-old children walk into a restaurant and are told they can’t have their favorite food, dinosaur chicken nuggets because dinosaur chicken nuggets are made for younger children? What will parents do when their child, who for the entirety of their life has refused to eat anything but these chicken nuggets, is suddenly not allowed to eat?

You see, Autism awareness goes beyond human awareness. Before we can say that full awareness has been achieved, we must make sure that every business, every restaurant, every retail store, every non-profit organization, every church, and every government is aware of this problem and is doing something to solve it.

For how long will we fight? We will fight until the world is young.

Sometimes

Dear Society,

Sometimes I think about the past. I think about the day my brother was diagnosed with Autism and I remember how I felt too many emotions to name. I remember how I knew nothing about Autism at that point and how I was anxious to learn everything about it. I remember reading as many books and articles as I could get my hands on that first year. I remember being stunned by the fact that Autism was a whole Spectrum; the only person with Autism I had known previously was a little boy at my childhood church, and I had erroneously assumed that everyone with Autism was a lot like him.

I remember beginning to understand, through my studies, why my brother always banged his head against the wall and walked on his tip-toes and didn’t react to things which would be painful to most people, like accidentally falling down the stairs. I remember wishing he would make eye contact with me and tell me how he was feeling. I remember being frustrated because I wanted to cuddle with him but he always resisted, and I remember feeling like he must not love me. I remember feeling scared whenever he had a meltdown. I remember thinking that all my research should have eliminated my frustrations and fears, but it didn’t.

I remember getting into arguments with my parents because I felt like so much of their time was devoted to him. I remember telling myself that time didn’t matter as much as I thought and that it would all pay off eventually. I remember going through phases of resentment toward my brother and also phases of indescribable adoration; I remember that my whole family experienced similar roller coasters of emotion. Sometimes we still do.

Sometimes I think about the future. I think of all the things my brother will do, and all the things he maybe won’t do. I think of him standing in line at a grocery store trying not to have a meltdown; I think of him arriving at a job interview and struggling to find the words to say what he wants to say. I think of how many other adults with Autism will be walking the streets thirty years from now, and I wonder if my brother will be considered high-functioning among them. I wonder if he’ll still struggle with numbers and with reading like he does now, and I wonder if he’ll still love animals as much as he does today.

I wonder if he’ll live with my parents or if he’ll have his own place. I wonder if he’ll find love, and I wonder what his significant other will be like. I wonder if he’ll think of me when we don’t see each other for a while, or if I will be out-of-sight-out-of-mind. I wonder if he’ll still remember the song I sang to him as a baby, and I wonder if he’ll teach it to anyone else. I hope he’ll smile a lot and I hope he’ll remember how loved he has always been.

Sometimes I think about right now. I walk down the street and I look around and I know – I just know – that so many of the people I see have been affected by Autism. I think of what the streets would look like if all of those people started wearing blue shoes all the time to show that they get it – that Autism has changed them in some way. Oh, how I wish they would wear blue shoes, because then I could look for the people who weren’t wearing them, and I could go up to them and help them learn and ask them if they would like a pair of blue shoes, too, and then they would get it. And before long everyone would be wearing blue shoes, because everyone would be aware, and everyone would care, and everyone would understand each other even just a little bit, and that would be a start.

More later,

Kate

The Dark is Dreaming, Day is Done

 

Dear Blue Shoes,

My brother turned nine this week, which means I’ve been walking in these “blue shoes” of Autism awareness for a while now. But awareness, I suppose, is inevitable when Autism is your reality.

JD (as I call him) had a rough first half of the year. That’s partially why I haven’t written in awhile. He spent some time at an inpatient treatment facility for individuals with Autism, where caregivers helped him learn how to cope with and manage his aggressive tendencies. They taught him how to voice his feelings and how to use his imagination more effectively. One of the nurses drew faces on paper plates and taped the plates onto popsicle sticks; each face represented a different emotion which JD used

Snow Day

We are snowed in today, so I stayed home from work, and my brother stayed home from school. It’s been 2 hours, and so far my brother has:

• Thrown 1 tantrum regarding gluten-free brownies.
• Thrown 1 tantrum regarding a marble run.
• Thrown approximately 3 tantrums about the snow not stopping fast enough.
• Reminded me approximately 942 times that he wants to go to school.

And I have:

• Said the words, “Buddy, stop doing that,” approximately 448 times.
• Turned on a movie to distract my brother so that I would have time to write this. (You have done it, too.)
• Discovered that when my brother is anxious, I can touch his face and he calms down. (This is weird to me, because I hate when people touch my face. But it makes a difference for my brother.)

Needless to say, these 2 hours have given me a deeper appreciation for what Autism moms and dads deal with on a daily basis. So, on that note, here’s a well-deserved shout-out.

Dear Autism Parents,

You guys are amazing. Seriously. And your children think so, too, even though they might not act like it some of the time. Your unconditional love is changing things; your patience is moving mountains; your support is making waves in society.

Thank you.

Dear Me: Why Patience is a Must

Dear Me,

Sometimes you have forgotten the importance of patience. Unfortunately, you will forget many more times. For the times you start to forget, here’s your reminder.

Patience is a must.

Why?

Because sometimes your brother will decide to roll out all the paper towels and wrap them around the legs of the table.

Because sometimes you will not want to watch that Caillou episode for the 114th time, but watching it will make your brother smile.

Because sometimes you won’t have any idea what your brother is trying to say, but it’s important to him that you figure it out.

Because sometimes aquarium trips will lead to Autistic meltdowns, and you won’t be allowed to yell at the people who are staring at your brother and whispering.

Because sometimes family birthday parties will be too loud for your brother to handle and he’ll want you to pick him up and spin him around to help him calm down.

Because sometimes he will only want to eat raisins and tortilla chips, even after you give him 9 other menu options.

Because sometimes he will decide he wants to go to Disneyland “right now please.”

Whenever you start to forget, remember. Patience is priceless. It is a must.

Because your brother just needs you.

Love,
Me

More Than a Shadow

As siblings of people with Autism, it’s easy to desire to lead the way by walking in front of our siblings.   But sometimes it’s necessary to walk behind our siblings and light the way, instead.

Recently someone asked me, “How do you lead when you’re not leading?” This question still has me thinking, and today it sparked a flashback. A couple years ago, my brother (who has Autism) asked me to get a flashlight so we could “camp out” in the living room. I got a flashlight and pointed it towards the wall. My brother started giggling, and I soon figured out it was because the light had given one of his stuffed animals a shadow. Amazed by this, my brother walked in front of the light I was casting and started dancing, exclaiming, “Look at my shadow! Look how tall I am!” between giggles. He went on like that for a good twenty minutes or so.

Today, as I was pondering the question, “How do you lead when you’re not leading?” my brother’s words, “Look how tall I am,” entered my mind again. I realized, for the first time, that my brother never would have realized how tall his shadow could be if I had been standing in front of him instead of behind him.

And it’s this experience that has convicted me today, because too often I try to lead the way by walking in front of my brother and saying, “Follow me,” rather than standing behind him, believing in him, and casting light on him to make him feel taller and stronger.

April is Autism Awareness Month, and it’s fast approaching. This year, I’m going to “Light-It-up-Blue” a little differently. This year you’ll see me standing behind my brother more than walking in front of him. This year you’ll see me leading by letting him pave his own path. This year you’ll see me holding a flashlight and watching my brother discover how great he truly is.

Behind whom are you standing?

Dear Society: Why I Won’t Answer the Empathy Question

“Nate is having a hard day,” JD said. “It makes me sad.”

Both Nate and JD are my brothers. JD has Classic Autism. A question I’m frequently asked is, “Do children with Autism lack empathy?”

If I’m honest, I think the empathy question is a bit unfair. Here are two reasons why:

• The ‘S’ in ‘ASD’ stands for ‘Spectrum’. A Spectrum, by definition, is defined by differences. My brother, having Classic Autism, will always feel and display empathy differently than people on other parts of the Autism Spectrum.

• When dealing with human characteristics, black-and-white answers are too complicated because they’re too simple. If you were to ask me, “Are you a sleepy person?” a black-and-white answer would be misleading because “Yes” would sometimes be a lie and “No” would sometimes be a lie. My safest (and most honest) answer would be, “Sometimes I am sleepy, and sometimes I’m not.” We must, in my opinion, address the empathy question in a similar way.

This morning, my youngest brother Nate was crying in the bathroom because he didn’t want to brush his teeth. My mom was talking with him, trying to convince him that brushing his teeth was for the greater good. Along came JD, bundled in his wintry attire and looking sweet with his missing teeth (he is in second grade). He gave me a quick side-hug and then said, “Nate is having a hard day. It makes me sad.”

These words, spoken by my brother with Autism, have been on my mind all day. The empathy question has been on my mind all day. Do children with Autism lack empathy? Should I say yes? Should I say no? My brother’s words have made me realize that maybe we ask too many black-and-white questions when it comes to Autism. Maybe answering “Yes” to the question, “Do children with Autism lack empathy?” is like answering “Yes” to the question, “Which color is the rainbow?”

Because the fact is that sometimes my brother does lack empathy. But sometimes I do, too. And sometimes my brother overflows with empathy, like the time I was sick on the couch and he kissed me on the cheek, or the time he saw me stub my toe and asked if I needed a Band-Aid, or the time he heard Nate crying in the bathroom and it made him sad.

So to answer the empathy question, I don’t believe I can answer the question. Because when it comes to Autism, there are no real black-and-white, one-size-fits-all answers. There are only real people.  And real stories.  And real love.

2014: A Recap

I’ll be real for a minute and admit that 2014 had its ups and downs.

My brother was going to a public school at the beginning of the year, but his teachers weren’t trained specifically in special education and therefore had a hard time with him. They had many complaints about his behavior: he ran away from school again; he refused to get on the bus again; he got put in the “quiet room” again; he threatened the teachers again.

My parents decided to try ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) therapy for my brother. Five days a week there was a therapist (or two) there working with my brother. They were teaching him life skills. If he didn’t know how to tie his shoe, they would show him. If he didn’t know how to politely ask for more food, they would teach him. One therapist

My Message to Society

This is me (the creator / administrator of Siblings of Autistic Kids), and this is my message to society. Share YOUR message on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. along with the hashtag #DearSociety. Let’s make awareness contagious – one letter at a time.

So You Want to Be a Leader

I recently came up with 8 leadership tips that I have found to be irreplaceable, effective, and easy to remember.  I’d like to share these with you now – from my brain to your life.    

A GOOD LEADER R.E.J.O.I.C.E.S:

Reaches out 

Establishes trust 

Jumps in 

Observes

Instructs

Challenges

Encourages

Shares 

“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader.” –John Quincy Adams

 

Shout Out Online Magazine

Shout Out Online Magazine

Follow the link to read the February 2013 issue of Shout Out Online Magazine, in which I am the sibling of the month.

The Power of Anyway

“According to the recognized, proven principles of aerodynamics, the bumblebee cannot fly because of the shape and weight of its body in relation to the total wing area. But the bumblebee doesn’t know this, so it goes ahead and flies anyway.”

Have you ever been criticized?  Has anybody ever told you that your dream is silly or impossible?  If you’re like me, you answered yes to these questions.

Today, I have a challenge for us.  Here it is:  Let’s learn the power of the word “anyway.”  Meaning, the next time someone says that you can’t do something, do your best anyway.  If your friend tells you that you can’t reach your goal, reach for it anyway.  If you want to know what you’re really capable of, “anyway” is the key.  Nothing can be proven impossible until you have given it a chance.

Let’s be like the bumblebee by doing what we love, no matter what the world says!

If Fish Could Climb: Finding Your Zone

“Everybody is a genius.  But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life thinking it’s stupid.”

-Albert Einstein

2013: It’s Time to Listen Closer

One of my favorite poems is by Charles C. Finn. It is entitled, “Please Hear What I Am Not Saying.” It reminds me that there are many, many things that speak louder than words.

Autism can affect an individual’s ability to communicate. But guess what? That doesn’t leave them broken.  Nonverbal does not mean unintelligent.  Maybe it’s time for us to listen closer and hear what our loved ones with Autism are not saying.

The following is an excerpt from the aforementioned poem. It just might hit home.

40 Life Lessons from Siblings of Autistic Kids

On my Facebook page Siblings of Autistic Kids, I asked my fans to share some lessons they have learned as siblings of people with Autism.   Here are 40 of my favorite responses.

A Sibling’s Search for Answers

Published in the November 2011 issue of Autism Spectrum Quarterly Magazine.

Click here to read the article sample.

The Best Lemonade: Sentiments from a Sibling of an Autistic Kid

Published on Autism Speaks Official Blog on January 20, 2011.

Click here to read more.

Overcoming Challenges

Three years ago, I had the opportunity of volunteering as an assistant coach on a soccer team for children with special needs.  I was assigned to assist a young boy named Jordan (name has been changed for privacy reasons).  Jordan had Autism and was completely non-verbal, but he knew a few words in American Sign Language (which was, luckily, a language in which I had been educated).  As I spent time getting to know Jordan, I came to learn that he was an incredible encourager.  His eyes were always smiling; perhaps a sign of the motivational words in his mind that his mouth simply could not form.  But words were not necessary for Jordan.  People knew that he cared.