Essays that worked!

Xiomara A. Almanzar '11
De Witt Clinton High School, Bronx, NY

I stare deeply into its red glowing eyes. 5:57 it blinks. I wait for it to come. 5:58. It never misses its cue. 5:59 I close my eyes as the inevitable happens. 6:00. AARRGG! And off he goes. Being awakened every morning by my little brother's punctual scream and my grandmother's response, "Jacob! Tranquilisate!" is a typical morning in my life. For a while now, I have stopped asking myself why he has to scream every morning. I've accepted that it's part of who he is and he has no control of it. When it comes to Jacob there are many things I have had to get accustomed to. It's easy to turn around and pretend he is perfectly normal six year old, but the fact is he is not. Living with an autistic brother is far from easy, but his life has become mine as well.

Growing up, I was an only child and loved it. I had the full attention of both my mother and grandmother. There was no sharing, no babysitting and I kept all the toys to myself. However, all that changed when I was ten and my mother became pregnant with Jacob. To be honest, there were times when I felt the cold stab of jealousy; nevertheless I was excited to have a younger sibling. After his birth I had to accept the fact I wasn't the only person my mother had to care for. Her main focus now was Jacob, but I loved the new found "freedom" that came with having a little brother. As he grew older, we started to notice his detachment from the family and the world around him. Instead of giving me hugs and kisses, he would distance himself from me. Was I doing something wrong as an older sister? Questions swirled around in my mind, but I received no answer from anyone which added to my lack of confidence. It wasn't until he was three that the doctors informed us he was autistic. Since then my life has changed completely.

I used to conceal from my friends the fact that my brother was an autistic child. I told myself I was doing my family a greater good by avoiding the questions that would eventually come from my friends. When distant relatives asked what was wrong with him I simply answered, "He is just going through a phase." But by lying to them I realized I was lying to myself; I felt ashamed of my own brother. Why did my family have to get stuck with an autistic member? It was hard not to notice the bruises on his arm when he came from school. It was even harder knowing he couldn't tell us who would hit him. It was difficult to sometimes watch him wet his pants because he didn't understand the concept of the bathroom. Why couldn't I accept him for who he was? Then it hit me. I was too worried about what the outside world "thought" of me. I was focused more on what others thought than on my job as a big sister to help my brother progress.

It was during the countless train rides that Jacob and I took to a speech therapist that I realized that it takes patience, support and understanding to deal with my brother. When I saw his lack of communication with children, I knew that I had to gently push him into the world. I knew I had to stop treating him as if he were a child with a disability. The path to recovery is full of bumps and Jacob will sometimes fall on his face. It's my goal to teach him to rise and keep going instead of staying down. As time goes on and I get closer to going off to college, I have come to appreciate Jacob. Never in my life have I loved someone as much as I love my brother - even when he wakes me up at 6 o'clock on a Saturday morning.

Last Modified: Wednesday, September 05, 2007 16:11