
"The Separated Inseparable Twins"
By Katie McNamara, Leading Contributor
My brother Brian and I were once inseparable twins. We spent every moment of our childhood together. He was by my side each morning when we left for school and the temporary separation when we departed to separate schools was enough to make me hysterically cry. Tears immediately fell down my face as I entered school without my brother there. When school ended, I had arrived home first and would stare out the window until he would arrive home once again. As soon as his bus pulled up out front of our house, I ran outside and hugged him. The other half of me was complete because my best friend had returned.
Brian was diagnosed with PDD, a type of autism, that limited his communication. Because of this, as we grew older this cherished routine faded away. Brian became quite aggressive to himself and others because he could not tell us why he was overwhelmed. His sporadic aggressions made it unsafe for him to live at home. He also had a tendency to wander off from our house unexpectedly because he would automatically bolt away down the road without hesitation whenever he was infuriated. Brian became unpredictable and it was difficult for me to understand why I could not stop his
behaviors. I would no longer await his arrival each day because a life-changing event happened when Brian left our home and entered a residential school.
I felt as if my best friend was taken away from me. Brian had been hospitalized four times the past year, but this time he would leave home permanently. I remember when I arrived home from school, and the first thing I noticed was Brian was not there. My aunt was there though and she told me Brian was admitted to the hospital again and my mom was at the emergency room with him. I was on the verge of tears when I heard this. Yet I could not actually cry. I felt paralyzed because the shock I was in was too much to endure. My anxiety level increased. I anxiously wondered when he would return home once again. That night I received a call from my mom and found out my brother was on a residential housing waiting list. I felt a sense of uncertainty because I knew his departure would be closure for me, but it would open doors for
him. The reality that my brother would no longer live at home was unreal. It startled me, but I knew Brian needed more care than what my mom and I could have possibly provided him.
When Brian left home it was a difficult adjustment for me. My best friend not being present at home with me each day relentlessly hurt and there was not a moment I did not grieve being deprived of his presence. His opportunity to receive an education was a key factor that helped me accept the situation. Overtime it healed my mourning. My first visit to the residential school comforted me. The teachers all took the time to introduce themselves and made us feel at home. Every visit since then they never hesitated to answer my questions and through that I grasped a greater understanding of my brother than I had already. With the teacher's support, I was able to better understand my brother's diagnosis. I learned about the school's teaching methods, as well as why the school's education system was best for his learning style. This improved our bond. For the first time, Brian was content because his school was structured with a thorough routine which he needed consistently. I discovered that Brian received reassurance of sameness and his team of teachers accommodated him through difficult aggressions whether it was hair pulling, kicking, or hitting. My mom and I were not trained in this, nor were we an entire team. Brian had received daily services and therapies for his difficulties, so he became less aggressive and less agitated. He improved with his communication and this helped me learn why he was upset. I noticed Brian became quite relaxed. He smiled and laughed a lot more. His satisfaction made me sincerely happy, and this helped us conquer his communication barrier.
Brian's residential school placement gave me opportunities to be involved in his school events throughout my high school education. I became a member of the sibling group, and was promoted as a director for one session. My participation in this group made me realize that I was not alone. I listened to other siblings elaborate about their situation and felt unity within the group. I received the support I needed too, and a greater interpretation of autism that correlates with my future occupation. I have also participated in the Annual 5K Walk/Run for autism research. My active involvement and participation at Brian's school let me be a part of his education. Because of my exposure to autism, I have been inspired to become
a psychologist to help others who experience behaviors like my twin brother's. I want to help other families who encounter a similar situation to what my mother and I faced when Brian left our home.
Because of Brian's experience, I am driven to become a psychologist. The separation from my brother helped me understand myself more, decide my education and career goals, and introduced me to my adulthood. Brian's experience has allowed me to be who I am today, and for that, I am grateful.
Siblings with a Mission is a non-profit, international organization established to serve and support siblings of individuals with special needs. All images are found on Google images and are solely used for education purposes. The stories and advice provided by Siblings with a Mission are not to be replaced by professional advice and counseling but to be considered as an additional source of support.
By Katie McNamara, Leading Contributor
My brother Brian and I were once inseparable twins. We spent every moment of our childhood together. He was by my side each morning when we left for school and the temporary separation when we departed to separate schools was enough to make me hysterically cry. Tears immediately fell down my face as I entered school without my brother there. When school ended, I had arrived home first and would stare out the window until he would arrive home once again. As soon as his bus pulled up out front of our house, I ran outside and hugged him. The other half of me was complete because my best friend had returned.
Brian was diagnosed with PDD, a type of autism, that limited his communication. Because of this, as we grew older this cherished routine faded away. Brian became quite aggressive to himself and others because he could not tell us why he was overwhelmed. His sporadic aggressions made it unsafe for him to live at home. He also had a tendency to wander off from our house unexpectedly because he would automatically bolt away down the road without hesitation whenever he was infuriated. Brian became unpredictable and it was difficult for me to understand why I could not stop his
behaviors. I would no longer await his arrival each day because a life-changing event happened when Brian left our home and entered a residential school.
I felt as if my best friend was taken away from me. Brian had been hospitalized four times the past year, but this time he would leave home permanently. I remember when I arrived home from school, and the first thing I noticed was Brian was not there. My aunt was there though and she told me Brian was admitted to the hospital again and my mom was at the emergency room with him. I was on the verge of tears when I heard this. Yet I could not actually cry. I felt paralyzed because the shock I was in was too much to endure. My anxiety level increased. I anxiously wondered when he would return home once again. That night I received a call from my mom and found out my brother was on a residential housing waiting list. I felt a sense of uncertainty because I knew his departure would be closure for me, but it would open doors for
him. The reality that my brother would no longer live at home was unreal. It startled me, but I knew Brian needed more care than what my mom and I could have possibly provided him.
When Brian left home it was a difficult adjustment for me. My best friend not being present at home with me each day relentlessly hurt and there was not a moment I did not grieve being deprived of his presence. His opportunity to receive an education was a key factor that helped me accept the situation. Overtime it healed my mourning. My first visit to the residential school comforted me. The teachers all took the time to introduce themselves and made us feel at home. Every visit since then they never hesitated to answer my questions and through that I grasped a greater understanding of my brother than I had already. With the teacher's support, I was able to better understand my brother's diagnosis. I learned about the school's teaching methods, as well as why the school's education system was best for his learning style. This improved our bond. For the first time, Brian was content because his school was structured with a thorough routine which he needed consistently. I discovered that Brian received reassurance of sameness and his team of teachers accommodated him through difficult aggressions whether it was hair pulling, kicking, or hitting. My mom and I were not trained in this, nor were we an entire team. Brian had received daily services and therapies for his difficulties, so he became less aggressive and less agitated. He improved with his communication and this helped me learn why he was upset. I noticed Brian became quite relaxed. He smiled and laughed a lot more. His satisfaction made me sincerely happy, and this helped us conquer his communication barrier.
Brian's residential school placement gave me opportunities to be involved in his school events throughout my high school education. I became a member of the sibling group, and was promoted as a director for one session. My participation in this group made me realize that I was not alone. I listened to other siblings elaborate about their situation and felt unity within the group. I received the support I needed too, and a greater interpretation of autism that correlates with my future occupation. I have also participated in the Annual 5K Walk/Run for autism research. My active involvement and participation at Brian's school let me be a part of his education. Because of my exposure to autism, I have been inspired to become
a psychologist to help others who experience behaviors like my twin brother's. I want to help other families who encounter a similar situation to what my mother and I faced when Brian left our home.
Because of Brian's experience, I am driven to become a psychologist. The separation from my brother helped me understand myself more, decide my education and career goals, and introduced me to my adulthood. Brian's experience has allowed me to be who I am today, and for that, I am grateful.
Siblings with a Mission is a non-profit, international organization established to serve and support siblings of individuals with special needs. All images are found on Google images and are solely used for education purposes. The stories and advice provided by Siblings with a Mission are not to be replaced by professional advice and counseling but to be considered as an additional source of support.