Previously posted in r/TrueOffMyChest.
I am feeling very overwhelmed emotionally right now so I apologize for any errors in spelling or if this ends up becoming a rambling post. It's also going to be very long so again I apologize.
I need to share some backstory about me to help you better understand why my sister is so important to me. I had a very rocky childhood. I was a very volatile child. I got into fights with other children very frequently. I was a problem child in school, was regularly punished by teachers and administration. I was eventually diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at a young age, which wasn't surprising. My dad died in front of me when I was eight, and after his death my nmom began her abuse of me. My sister was born not long after my dad passed away. I also had severe ADHD and my frequent mood swings did nothing to help my home and school situations.
My mother hated me, and often singled me out to be the subject of her worst abuse. I have a scar on my chest from where she threw a dinner plate at me when I said I was not hungry one night. It required 17 stitches. My nmom was clever about her abuse. She always made sure that the beatings were never in visible areas, and the two times that CPS got involved she was always a model parent. None of us were ever brave enough to out her. I shielded my sister from the worst of her abuse. She was very rarely a target for her violence but she didn't get away unscathed.
From the day my sister was born I was smitten with her. I took it upon myself to take care of her with the help of my older brother, because our mother did not seem to care. My sister, Claire, quickly became attached to me, which infuriated my mom to no end.
My little sister is autistic. She is high functioning but to anyone observant enough it is very obvious that she is neuro-atypical. She has a very specific tic where she will start tapping a surface incessantly. It can last a minute up to several hours. It used to be very annoying but I have become accustomed to it. Our mother never physically abused Claire much, instead opting for emotional or verbal abuse. She would mock her autism and make snide remarks. She would berate her for her tics and neuro-atypical behavior. More than once I shut her down. She often made her (claire) cry.
I hated her so much. I still do, not just for what she did to me, but most of all, because of what she did to Claire. Claire only ever wanted our mother to love her as a mother should, and being so young, she never understood why she did not. There have been multiple occasions when Claire would come to me and our big brother and ask such painful and difficult questions, and more often than not, tears would be involved.
"Why does mommy hate me?"
"What did I do wrong?"
"Why did mommy hurt me?"
But the one that tore me apart, the one that has kept me up for so many sleepless nights, crying and so angry at my nmom, "am I bad girl?"
I have had so many rage filled nights. Nights I would cry, and cry and cry for myself and my siblings. But most of all, for my precious little sister Claire, who out of all of us never deserved any of this. A sweet, innocent, little girl who only wanted a mother's love, and never got it.
I made a decision.
I could never take the place of a true parent, but I showered her with so much love. I was still young myself, at only 13, and didn't know much about autism, but I educated myself and how to handle it in young children. I learned about the different types, the spectrum, typical behaviors and how to help guide children suffering autism to productivity. I learned how to deal with the emotional aspect, and the communication difficulties.
While my sister is high functioning, she has always had severe difficulty communicating with others, including myself, though it was less pronounced with me. She rarely understood humor and would get frustrated trying to figure it out, and had difficulty holding conversations with me, and still does today, although she has gotten somewhat better with time and effort. I began making a concerted effort to help her communication skills and socialization, which was made all the more difficult due to the abuse she suffered at the hands of our mother. My brother, who was several years older than I am, began to seek therapists who could help us further. Progress was very slow, as Claire was (is) very resistant to change. There were many fights and tears, but progress eventually was made. I discovered that Claire has an intense need to collect and sort stuff. I found that she has her desk drawers systematically sorted by sections, and those sections sorted by subsections varying by function. For example, her center draw is exclusively for writing utensils. She has small dividers for her pens, pencils and markers, and has those items sorted by type and color.
Claire gets very fidgety and emotional when she does not have something to mess with. her emotional imbalance kicks into high gear and she begins to cry, which will eventually lead into a full-blown meltdown. After some time trying to find something that she could do to feed her needs I decided to try getting her into a game that I enjoyed a lot growing up - Pokémon. She was about six at the time.
I came up to her one day to see her just sitting on the couch doing nothing, staring into space and tapping. I said her name and she turned to look at me, then resumed her tapping. I sat on the couch next to her and began rubbing the back of her head - she always liked it when I did that. We just sat like that for a bit, her tapping and swinging her legs and me sitting next to her and rubbing her head. I was hesitant to bring up the games because she had tried playing games before and ended up in a meltdown because they were so hard for her.
I finally broke the ice.
"I did more thinking about some games you might be able to play."
She did not reply to that.
"I might have found one."
"Okay."
I brought out my old Nintendo DS and Pokémon Diamond.
"Do you want to try it?"
Claire looked at the game and looked at me, then took it, staring at it.
"Is it hard?"
"No, it's not hard."
This was the first time I had let her use my DS. I showed her how to turn it on and access the game. I walked her through the opening few hours of the game. She still remained kind of aloof but made no comment about not wanting to play it. After some time I had her pause it.
"Do you want to keep playing?"
She did not answer.
"Claire, I need you to be honest with me. I don't want to force something on you that you do not want to do."
She looked at the DS in her hands.
"I... guess."
I sighed quietly to myself and took the system fom her, and placed it on the table. I adjusted myself and and pulled her over to me, wrapping my arms around her. This always made her feel safe and let her open up more.
"I won't be angry at you. You know you can trust me."
She mumbled something about knowing. I squeezed her tighter and she buried herself in my arms.
"Please be honest with me. I just want to help you."
Again, I got silence from her. I wasn't going to pressure her. I let her go and got up.
"I'll let you think about it, okay."
She mumbled something in reply and I went upstairs. Several hours later she wanted me to help her some more with the game. I am pleased to say she got more into it than she was before and soon became a full on Pokémon fan. It soon became apparent that I was going to have feed this obsession. I bought a secondhand GBA and all the original Pokémon games, and handed off my games to her. She began collecting plushes, figurines, posters, etc. I got her a keychain for her schoolbag and sticker books, the pocket guides, and numerous other odds and ends. Hear favorite thing, though, is the Eeveelution shirt I bought her. She wears it everywhere. To bed, to school, out on the town, EVERYWHERE. Eevee is her favorite Pokémon.
Pokémon has helped my sister so much. She always shows me her teams, what new Pokémon she caught, fan art, whatever. She loves to look up new facts and info regarding the series and sharing that info with me. It can get tiring, I won't lie, but I always smile and engage her. I love the series, too - I grew up on it, after all. But most of all, I love what it has done for Claire.
Growing up with an autistic sister has been the biggest struggle of my life. I love her to death, and I will fight tooth and nail to protect her. It has forced me to grow up prematurely. When I was 18, I got kicked out of my home, and it put a full stop to years of progress. I had to find a new place to live, and during that time I suffered a lot of heartache. I can't imagine how it impacted my sister. My siblings told me horific stories. She regressed hard. Years of progress went down the drain, and along with it her emotional imbalance collapsed in on itself. I spent days and nights crying and wondering what I would do. I used the money I had saved for several years to sue for custody. It was a long, drawn out legal battle, but the courts decided in my favor, and I was reunited with my sister. She moved in with me and my brother, and my girlfriend when I turned 19. We had to undo a year's worth of damage, and it was difficult, painful and sometimes nearly unbearable, but we made it through.
Having an autistic sister has taught me what unconditional love is, and that there are many forms of love, some not immediately apparent. Her form of love is to share what she herself loves. Another one of her love languages is to grip tightly to me and not let go. I learned this one early. When she needs assurance or to be loved on, she would grab me and hold on. She could stay like this for a long time. I don't dislike it. I enjoy the moments we get to spend together, just her and I, hugging and cuddling and just sharing our unique bond. And our bond is very unique. I don't have a relationship with anyone else like I do with her, and I would never change anything about her, no matter what.
Because autism and all, she is my precious little cinnamon roll, and she is very sweet indeed.
Submitted March 03, 2019 at 08:35AM by AnimeDreama https://ift.tt/2EHZu5g
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