Alec, my older brother, was around two when one night he wouldn’t stop screaming and crying. I wasn’t born yet, but that night seemed to be the turning point for my 21 year old mom as well as myself. He just kept crying and screaming. My mom tried everything she could to soothe him. The only thing that seemed to work was when he has tired himself out and fell asleep. Before that night, he had been progressing like other young children. He was babbling and looking around at the world in wonder. After that night, though, it’s like he wasn’t even the same child. He regressed. He stopped trying to talk and playing with his toys. My mom knew there was something wrong. Something had changed dramatically. She took him to doctor after doctor, trying to identify what had happened to her son. No one had any answers.
After I was born, I quickly became aware that I was not going to be a little sister. I was going to become the second parent to Alec. My dad, despite being in the medical field, cared nothing for my brother. He would even go as far to hit him and told my mom that he would give Alec to the State for them to handle instead of taking care of him. My dad wanted him gone, wanted him somewhere in a hole of a Home that didn’t treat their patients or residents right.
After the divorce from my dad, my mom met a man who became my step-dad. Despite the first string of love and affection towards my mom in the beginning, he was not ready to be a parent, especially to a boy with a mental issue. My mom still was taking Alec to doctors, trying to find answers. I remember a time when we stayed overnight in a hospital. My mom and Alec laid on one bed and I on another. The room was dark and the paper sheath on the bed crinkled as I tossed and turned. The moon hung out the window, spilling it’s light on me while my mom held her son, hoping for relief, in the shadows where the moon couldn’t reach.
Then, as more and more people rushed to hospitals with children, many of them sons, the doctors named it, the mental illness. Autism. Alec was autistic. Now with a name came a flood of theories as to how these children became autistic. At first, it was the vaccines. Even my own mom bought into it, despite the fact that she had already vaccinated me. She was furious at the companies for putting mercury in the vaccines and “poisoning” children. How could she not be? All the news stories and the gossip and the supposed science seemed to fit. She thought she had her answer. And as my brother had his meltdowns, her belief in the government and vaccine companies diminished. She believed this for years. When Jesse was born, she didn’t vaccinate him. When Ronin was born, she didn’t vaccinate him either. Although, she quickly realized after that it wasn’t the vaccines (all of my brothers are vaccinated now). She now believes it’s her genes, that somehow they’re faulty.
As the years progressed, I took it upon myself to teach Alec. I tried to teach him how to read, how to dress himself in clean clothes, how to brush his teeth. Nothing stuck very well. Even to this day, he can’t do most of it without guidance. Alec wasn’t just on the autism spectrum, he didn’t just have autistic tendencies. He has mild to severe autism. When he was younger, he would have meltdowns frequently. He would scream until blood vessels popped in his face. He would put holes through walls and windows. I can’t tell you how many times my parents had to patch up and sand the walls. He would hit and kick and bite my mom, but she was strong and could handle it. He never touched me, though. It was always my mom.
In October of 2000, Jesse was born. He didn’t have his shots and he grew up without being autistic, though he has other mental problems that have grown exponentially. As we grew older, I was left at home to babysit Alec, and eventually Jesse. I had to make Alec food. At the time, he only ate mac ‘n cheese and Tony’s Supreme Pizza and drank Mountain Dew. He refused to eat or drink anything else. Despite there being my mom and my step-dad, I still considered myself the second parent. I had to take Jesse and Alec with me if I wanted to leave and would even have to go with a caretaker that my parents finally got for Alec to keep an eye on how he acted. See, Alec, like most autistic people, has ticks. He does what’s called Stemming. This is where he flaps his hands back and forth while humming. To other people, he looks…strange. They don’t know quite know what to think. He also has an affinity for women’s feet. He likes to tickle them and hear women scream. Now, I know this sounds creepy and weird, but he really means no harm. He just finds it hilarious. So, that’s why I went with the caretaker. I knew the signs when he was about to reach for some random woman’s feet and would stop him before the caretaker even noticed.
Then my littlest brother, Ronin, was born. Again, no shots. He was born perfectly healthy. He even tried to lift his head up right after he came out (I was there, I saw the whole thing, and it was gross). Then, one night a year or two later, Ronin would just not stop screaming and crying. In my head, I remembered the story my mom had told me about Alec when he was two. Again, my mom did everything she could to get him to stop but he wouldn’t stop until he was too tired to go on. The next day, my mom looked haggard. She looked at me and said, “He reminds me of Alec.”
Not long after that, Ronin began showing signs of autism. I had taught him how to say the word bubble because every time we blew bubbles he would smile and laugh. I’d say bubble and point to the glistening orbs and he would repeat. I’d ask him what they were and he’d say bubble. He said bubble a lot because he loved them so much. But after the night of nonstop crying, I would blow bubbles and point at them and asked him what they were. He didn’t respond, or he would start the beginning of the word and trail off, as if the memory of how to say it was fading. Alec is not non-verbal but he doesn’t know how to say a lot of things. Ronin pretty much stopped talking altogether. It was horrifying to watch. He would just scream if he was upset, having a meltdown. Blogger Robyn, shares a similar story and discusses why regressive autism occurs.
For most of my teenage years, I was a second parent while my parents worked. I couldn’t go out with friends until after my parents got home, which would sometimes be around nine or ten at night. And they would often times work seven days a week. I missed out on dances and parties and shopping trips with friends. It was hard having to sit at home while kids my age were being kids. Because of that, I didn’t have very many friends.
As Alec got older, his meltdowns decreased in quantity but increased in aggression. He was becoming a man, with more testosterone and more anger. The fights he had with my mom over unimportant things left her with bruises and bloody marks. But he didn’t touch me. Until one evening. I had had a friend coming over to the house and I was rushing to make sure things were clean and ready to go. I had to feed Alec his pizza and one slice had slipped off the plate in front of him but I picked it back up and placed it on the plate and handed it to him. My friend came over and we were watching T.V. when Alec started screaming. I went upstairs to see what the problem was when he threw the whole pizza on the ground and then threw his laptop. I rushed in to stop him and clean up the mess when he hit me over the head with the ceramic plate, leaving me dazed. I was in shock from the blow and from the fact that he had hit me in the first place. Then he began to punch me and bite me. I screamed at him to stop and my friend, hearing the commotion, came up the stairs and grabbed Alec by the wrists before he could hit me again. I called my mom crying, telling her to come home. When she got there, I honestly don’t remember what happened. She must have taken him to work with her. She left me, my friend, and my little brother Jesse home. Jesse, who was around eleven at the time, had run outside to the front porch with a kitchen knife in hand, hiding from Alec. I tried to go about normalcy and return to watching T.V. But then the shock fully wore off and I got up to go to the kitchen and cry.
My mom afterwards tried to comfort me in her own way. I think she was in shock too. I vaguely remember her telling me that she could sign me up for self defense classes and that I should be more prepared in the future for things like what had happened. She told me that I should go for the eyes or the crotch, even though he was my brother, and not just stand there. None of her words helped me. Nothing comforted me.
Despite what had happened, I was still the second parent. I still babysat Alec and Jesse, and eventually Ronin, all by myself. I had to shake off what had happened because I didn’t have a choice. I never had a choice. I know that my parents had to make money because we were poor. And I know that finding a babysitter for autistic children like Alec and Ronin, but mainly Alec, was near impossible. But I still felt wronged by my parents. Even on my 21st birthday, I had to stay home while my parents went away to work.
Ronin, luckily, is doing better now. He talks a lot and does a lot of things that other kids do thanks to programs at school for special needs children. Alec, though, is not so fortunate. He is 26 now and still lives at home. He still has meltdowns that now leave an impact on my mom because she’s not as strong as she used to be, but he’s taking medication for it. His speech is still limited and he doesn’t recognize that he is a grown man. He’ll still go after feet of a 14 year old because he doesn’t realize how old he is. In his mind, he’s the same age he’s always been. Although, at times, he has moments of clarity when he realizes that he is not like other people. He’ll talk about poison being in his head and about how he wants to drive and be with friends. But he can’t drive, and won’t ever be able to, and he doesn’t have friends. And then the clarity ends and he goes back to humming. It rips my heart out.
Even though I don’t live at home anymore, when I visit I am pushed into the babysitting, second parent roll. My mom always asks me to watch the boys while she and my step-dad escape for a few hours. And I agree, despite wishing to never do it again. It has never been easy growing up the way I did. I became very mature very quickly and have missed out on opportunities because of my position in my family. And even though I’ve escaped that role for now, it won’t last because when my parents are gone I’ll be the only one that will be able to take care of Alec, and aid Ronin when he needs it. Jesse has made it very clear he will have no part in helping me. But hopefully he’ll change his mind.
Pendulum Swings 