My Sister

Before I start, I would like to say that complaining about family, without their consent, on the internet, is a really ugly thing to do, and with that, I apologize for everything I'm about to say, and I hope that my sister, and anyone who knows her, will never, ever read this post, because my sister, "Unit A," is a really smart, creative, and generous person, and one of the few people on the planet who gets my jokes.

But sometimes, Unit A is a jerk.

Today, I've been on the brink of becoming a whiny little brat all day.  See, next week, I've got two interviews in relation to my college applications, I'm having surgery on Saturday, and then I'm starting the new semester the Monday after that.  So I have a natural reason to be stressed out.  On top of that, the night before last, someone invited me to go to a baseball game with her, and because I haven't seen her in a long time, I agreed.  But baseball games involve A LOT of people and A LOT of noise and smells and lights, all of which would be stressful for any autist, and I'm not a huge sports fan, anyway, so I'll only vaguely know what's going on in the game.  Add to that the fact that I had less that 24 hours to mentally prepare for this, and my family decided that they wanted to go to the game, too, and you've got a recipe for Stress A La Mode.

To condense what would otherwise be a very long story, yesterday was extremely stressful, involving multiple arguments with multiple people (in AND out of my immediate family, which is unusual), and multiple stressful occasions involving food (I shouldn't be this way, but there it is).  I did have fun, and I got to spend time with my friends (I even ran into several people unexpectedly that I haven't gotten to see in a long time), but yesterday came at a cost.  I've been melancholy and depressed all day.  I keep trying to start something, and I get slowed down.  I only did about half the product descriptions I usually can, and when I came home and started practicing a few songs with Unit A, the good mood that usually comes along with that was very short lived.

But I'm on my way to normalization, when I find out that Pizza Movie Night has been squandered again.  It had be delayed from Friday night, to today, or so I wrongly assumed.  We were going to have hamburgers instead, no warning, no explanation.  I am fully aware that this is nothing to get all "up in a tizzy" about.  It's just food.  I like hamburgers, and they're healthier than a lot of the food I've been eating lately, so physically, I'll feel better than I have been.

But it irked me.  They didn't even tell me directly, I heard it from Unit A, who was having a conversation with our parents over the phone.  That was it.  Now that I know why I like to rely on routines like this, I can keep it from bugging me as much as it normally would.  The only problem is, my family knows, too (or at least, I assumed they did), so the fact that it bothers me, and they did it anyway, without even telling me about it, that is what bothers me the most.  But one of my big problems is, I often think about things so hard, and so much, that I'm never really sure if I've told other people or not.  So, either they forgot that I said anything, or I never did in the first place.  Or they're just being cruel, which is highly unlikely, because I know my family, and they are anything but cruel.

So you know what I did?  I decided to talk to them about it.  It's a smart thing, except for the fact that Unit A was there.  My mom was completely understanding, and I think she was actually remorseful, which makes me feel bad (my mom is too sweet, too accommodating of other people.  She's the only person I've ever made cry, outside of that one guy at work, and I HATE it when I do that), but I was glad that other people could understand how my brain works, and how, with very little effort, they could bring me ease of mind, and therefore take the tension out of the whole family.  All they had to do was tell me.  I've been stressed out, and that's my problem.  If they had told me, at least an hour in advance (although a day would have been nice), then I could have readjusted my view of the universe, and moved on.

Now we get to the part where my sister gets involved.  You see, my mom suspects that Unit A is autistic, just like me.  I'm afraid to ask her myself, because, though knowing this has been a huge help in my life, it's not my place to shove amateur diagnosis down other people's throats.  And I don't know whether or not it would be helpful for her or not.  And then there's the fact that any form of perceived criticism will be met with harsh and brutal retorts, instantly making the utterer of said observation feel like they are under personal attack.

And so, I explained as calmly and as simply as I could to the general room that having pizza once a week is a form of comfort that I have come to rely on, and it's extremely helpful to me, especially in times of stress, like this weekend.  Unfortunately, Unit A was a part of the general room, and I can only imagine what my words were being interpreted as in her mind.  She instantly snapped into the offensive (it is the best defense, after all, and since I was clearly attacking her, personally, it was the only logical response), saying that she hates pizza, and can't stand that we have it every week, and it's a blessed relief that she finally gets a break from the worst possibly food ever to have been created (and how dare I even bring up such a disgusting subject in her?).

I am aware that she hates pizza, and that every weekend is the bane of her existence because of it (she has told me as much, pretty much every week).  I never suggested that she liked our weekly ritual.  I also, was not talking about her.  I was talking about me, which I admit, I do so rarely that it must have taken her by surprise.  But it's what I was doing, and I had a very good reason to do so.  I was so taken aback (although I don't know why, this wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence with her) and so I tried to redirect and repair the conversation before any damage was done to her, or me.  I'm still not sure how I wheedled my way out of that conversation, but I know it wasn't graceful, neither did it actually resolve anything.  But I was too depressed to worry about fixing it.

I spent the rest of the night, setting her off about how to make dinner, about using her computer cable, about getting in her way while she was trying to put away her guitar, about what to TV show to watch, until finally, she just gave up and locked herself in her room.  

See, if I accept the assumption that my sister is autistic, everything she does makes more sense.  If this is true, then she and I both have difficulties connecting with other people, with understanding them, their motives and intentions, and our way of expressing ourselves is sometimes a little... off.  I don't want to make excuses for her, just like I don't want to make excuses for myself, but if this is true, then that means she doesn't hate me, and she hasn't been trying to make my life miserable on purpose.  Which would be a wonderful thing to know.

I, as an autist, sometimes struggle with the idea that other people can have a different opinion than me.  The fact that some people like anchovies on their pizza is confusing, but I've learned to live with the fact that other people are not me.  Just because I don't like something, doesn't mean it's bad, or other people shouldn't like it.  All it means is that I don't like it.  Unit A... hasn't come to this realization.  Or at least, not as far as I can tell.  In her defense, she didn't grow up with her as a sister.  When we're talking about food, she says "Onions are disgusting."  Not, "Onions are disgusting to me."  Just "Onions are disgusting," as in "Antarctica is cold, I have ten fingers, and anyone who so much as touches onions are insane, unclean, and not to be dealt with unless absolutely necessary."  

When we're talking about clothes, and I say "I don't like to wear knitted things, they're itchy and they make me sweat," she says "what's wrong with you?  I loved knitted things.  I wait all year round to wear them.  Winter is the only redeemable season because of it.  I would move to Antarctica if I could find work there.  How could you possibly not like knitted things?  I don't even want to talk to you right now."  She doesn't even say it jokingly.  She literally makes me want to apologize for my preference in clothing, and my sensitivity to certain textures.  A couple times after shopping, I've actually gone home and tried to rethink my life, because she is so certain of herself, that nobody could possibly have a different opinion than her.  Not that other people are wrong, it's that other people don't even consider another possibility but the one she's picked, and anyone who brings up anything else, does so out of utter insanity, and nothing else.

I try not to say anything negative about music around her, because of this.  Since music is my special interest, and has been for as long as I can remember, I know a lot about music, and love a large variety.  Unfortunately, as an autist, when I don't like a song or a band or a genre, I hate it.  But if Unit A likes it, she will shove it down my throat anyway.  A couple of the songs we've been rehearsing are on that list of songs I hate, but she loves.  And if I ever say anything bad about any of them, she will let me have it, no filters, whatsoever.

When I'm honest with myself (which isn't often enough), I think Unit A is the reason I've had a problem being different.  If you grow up with another autist, who's opinions and special interests are different than yours, it can have a lasting effect on you.  I grew up, knowing that if I said or did or liked something that I wasn't supposed to, I would be told, harshly, and ostracized (briefly, since none of us could really get away from each other) until I mended my ways.

I started learning how to play the piano after my sister.  She had been studying it for years before I started, so she was better than me.  However, with my laser-like focus and discipline, I mastered things that she didn't.  When I finally took lessons, in college, she hadn't been practicing for years, so, naturally, I quickly surpassed her skill level.  But when I started playing she would do one of two things.  

One, she would find what I was doing that was wrong, and try to correct it.  This is a VERY autistic thing to do, and I struggle with trying not to correct other people all the time because of it.  Because when an autist tells you you're wrong, they don't sugar coat it.  And it hurts.  Autists can be very sensitive (I know my sister and I are) and don't handle criticism very well, nor with any decent degree of maturity.  

Two, if she couldn't find anything wrong with what I was doing, she would do nothing, or disappear.  And for some reason, that's even harder for me to deal with than her cutting remarks.  We don't express our emotions very well, and if she was ever happy for my success, she rarely showed it.  The only "vibe" I got, was jealousy, and self-hatred.  She always complains about how much of a failure she feels like, when she sees celebrities her age, or younger, all successful and talented, while she is "nowhere".  She never says this stuff about me, but I wonder.  Truth is, the part of my brain that is "Unit A Land," tells me every day that it's wrong for me, the younger sister, to be better than her at anything, for me to have something that she does not.  I feel like I can't tell her when I've got a job, or a date, or a performance, because she does not have those things.  One of the less stressful times of my life was when she was engaged, and I was finally, finally allowed to have a boyfriend.  I wanted to go out and get one right away, but things fell through with the guy I was dating pretty quickly.

I want so badly to share the good things I have with her, but it'll only make her feel bad about her self.  I want to tell her about the bad things in my life, because that's what girls do to resolve their problems, and she's the only real friend I have.  But when I tell her anything's wrong, that something's bothering me, or that I have a problem, she begins to tell me how she has it worse.  I get the impression that I have no right to complain, even when I'm not complaining, I'm just asking for help, even though that's not allowed.

I don't want this to turn into a "woe is Penny" episode, and I sure as heck don't want this to be about how "terrible" my big sister is, and how "horrible" my life is because of her, because it's not.  Because she's my sister, I learned somethings that are very, very hard for an autist to learn.  Things like: other people have feelings, and other people have different opinions than you, and other people don't like to be criticized, and other people don't like to hear about your problems (and they really don't want to hear boast about your talents and possessions).  I learned that sometimes people aren't reasonable, that they don't follow your rules, and sometimes, you just have to go with it, you have to humor them, not because they're right and you're wrong, but because that's what you do to stop people from being on the defensive, and get them on your side.  It's because of her that I could work at a restaurant, where I dealt with hungry, irritated customers every day.  It's because of her that I could tutor people from a young age, getting into their heads and figuring out how to translate what I know in a way they'll understand.  It's because of her that I don't stay offended when people say or do things that hurt me, because I know that they have no clue what they just did to me.  It makes life so much easier when you know not everyone's out to get you.  That people are good inside, they just do weird things sometimes.

I guess the point of this post is a couple things.  First of all, I wanted to write out my thoughts, for real.  I've never had the guts to say anything about my sister to anyone (except for one comment to my therapist, and a little here and there to my mom).  I don't want anyone to think that she's mean, or bad, or anything, because she's not, and I love her.  But she's complicated, just like anyone, and growing up with her has has a serious, permanent effect on me.  To understand a person, you have to know the good AND bad parts.

The other reason I'm posting this, while it's an afterthought, is still relevant.  Be patient with people.  Autistic or not, everyone has a struggle.  I don't have the answer, the magical formula where you can find all the autistic people in your life, and explain to them why what they did hurt you (and how not to do it again).  Some autists are receptive to that kind of thing, while others aren't.  

Some autists are better with people than others.  As far as I've seen, every person I've interacted with likes me.  Not necessarily loves me, or wants me to be their best friend.  But I've never made an enemy in my entire life.  Not once.  It's because I treat everyone like they have feelings.  Like they have a right to their opinion, even if it's different from my own.  Like they actually might have a valid reason for that opinion, and I'm sometimes even willing to listen to what they have to say, because I very well might be wrong.  Who knows.  I treat everyone like they have good on the inside, even if they aren't showing it very well right now, because maybe they're having a hard time with something today.

I treat everyone like they're my family.  Because, if you think about it, they are.

Penny