I have a younger brother, and his name is Ryan. My brother has severe non-verbal autism, such that even at age 17 (he'll be 18 in July) he can barely say anything intelligible, and even that's confined to a mere word. Sometimes when I look back, I wonder how it was like growing up with a brother like that. But fact is, when I was growing up, it didn't seem like anything remarkable at all. He was just my brother, and everything felt normal. Like everyone else after school had a life just like mine. Yet at times I really wonder how I did it. Again when I think back into the past, I remember that despite the immense love my family gave me (I've got a very close knit family), I was a fairly maladjusted child.
My teenage years were a mess, and I encountered so many teething problems with trying to find my identity, hampered by the existence and presence of my brother. If I was raised to be slightly off-kilter (thanks individualistic rhetoric sprouting Dad), my brother just made me all the more incredibly different from everyone else. And teenage society does not reward those that do not conform to their vision of normality within 1 standard deviation. I was probably 5 standard deviations off, hahaha. But then of course I learnt of a reason behind most of my trouble: I suffer from dysthymia, so perhaps it wasn't my brother that led to me being strange after all.
And then there were times when I wondered whether I had strains of autism too. I have a fascination with staring at the washing machine - the front loading ones with the clear window that is - watching clothes go round and round and round. That's actually what inspired this post, cause Zhi Wei came out of the bathroom and saw me watching my clothes in the laundry machine. Though I must say it's only MY CLOTHES that make me want to watch the machine. Everyone else's clothes can gtfo. Dryers work too.
Then there is the fact that I have incredible trouble communicating my emotions verbally. This is especially bad when it involves strong emotions, like after a fight. I find that I cannot even speak. Meanwhile my brain shuts down, and I become catatonic. At best after some time, I can write things down, but I still cannot say them out. Even in day to day life, emotional things often leave me unable to function fully, which is of course bad because I have quite an emotional disposition.
Still, despite anything (and everything?), I've made it thus far. Living away from my brother in London for the past 3 years has been real nice, but I do miss him. Plus he is (along with the rest of my family) never too far from my thoughts. Not sure if I'll be singing the same tune when I'm back for at least a year in Sept though, ahahaha.
AND presenting, a rare photo of my brother and I, taken last year Sept.
My teenage years were a mess, and I encountered so many teething problems with trying to find my identity, hampered by the existence and presence of my brother. If I was raised to be slightly off-kilter (thanks individualistic rhetoric sprouting Dad), my brother just made me all the more incredibly different from everyone else. And teenage society does not reward those that do not conform to their vision of normality within 1 standard deviation. I was probably 5 standard deviations off, hahaha. But then of course I learnt of a reason behind most of my trouble: I suffer from dysthymia, so perhaps it wasn't my brother that led to me being strange after all.
And then there were times when I wondered whether I had strains of autism too. I have a fascination with staring at the washing machine - the front loading ones with the clear window that is - watching clothes go round and round and round. That's actually what inspired this post, cause Zhi Wei came out of the bathroom and saw me watching my clothes in the laundry machine. Though I must say it's only MY CLOTHES that make me want to watch the machine. Everyone else's clothes can gtfo. Dryers work too.
Then there is the fact that I have incredible trouble communicating my emotions verbally. This is especially bad when it involves strong emotions, like after a fight. I find that I cannot even speak. Meanwhile my brain shuts down, and I become catatonic. At best after some time, I can write things down, but I still cannot say them out. Even in day to day life, emotional things often leave me unable to function fully, which is of course bad because I have quite an emotional disposition.
Still, despite anything (and everything?), I've made it thus far. Living away from my brother in London for the past 3 years has been real nice, but I do miss him. Plus he is (along with the rest of my family) never too far from my thoughts. Not sure if I'll be singing the same tune when I'm back for at least a year in Sept though, ahahaha.
AND presenting, a rare photo of my brother and I, taken last year Sept.
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