Growing Up with A Sibling on the Spectrum

Growing up with a younger brother who has Asperger’s Syndrome was a learning experience I never signed up for, but one I wouldn’t trade for anything.

When we were kids, things weren’t always easy. The world didn’t always make sense to him, and honestly, he didn’t always make sense to me. There were routines that had to be followed, sounds that were too loud, emotions that felt too big. And as his older sibling, I often found myself somewhere between protective and confused; trying to be patient, while also trying to just be a kid.

There were moments when I didn’t understand why certain things bothered him, or why he reacted the way he did. There were times I felt like I had to grow up a little faster, because I needed to help him through things I didn’t fully get myself.

But now, as adults, something’s shifted.

We understand each other more, not just because we’ve both grown, but because we’ve started seeing each other for who we really are, not just who we were as kids. His way of thinking is still different from mine, but I’ve come to admire it. The way he focuses in on the things he loves. The way he notices details most people overlook. The way he’s honest — always — even when it’s not easy.

He’s hilarious, too. In his own dry, unexpected way. He’ll drop a one-liner at just the right moment and leave everyone speechless.

We still have our differences, like any siblings do. But we also have this shared history — this quiet understanding that only comes from years of figuring it out together.

I used to think I had to guide him. Now I realize we’ve both helped each other grow in different ways. And I’m grateful for the bond we have — not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real.

We’ve come a long way. And honestly, I’m proud of both of us.