Autism | Calderism

[Hi Calderism Friends! This is going to be my last Calderism. I’m off to college and so Calder’s least favorite brother, Dash, will be taking over. I want to thank everyone who joined me on this journey and celebrated the awesomeness that is Calder. Please keep following the blog!

My final post is of my college essay]

           My little brother Calder is not special. He might get so overwhelmed at the noisy mall that he’ll flop on the filthy floor and throw a tantrum. Because he is non-speaking, he might squeak, climb on my back, or drag me to the cookie kiosk. He definitely draws stares from strangers. And he absolutely tests my patience when he insists on yet another ride up the escalator. Especially when he has a dirty diaper and the smell is embarrassing. But the only thing that actually bothers me is when a well-meaning passerby says, “Your brother is so lucky to have you.” Why do they never say, I am lucky to have Calder? 

           It’s true, having an autistic brother means our household is chaotic. I’m always braced for Calder burning his hand or shattering a glass. One morning when I had a Precalculus test, he escaped from the house and disappeared into the woods. My parents made me go to school. I don’t remember if I got an A or an F. I just remember being incredibly scared and then relieved when a woman posted on the community Facebook page that she’d found him. When I got home, though, I was angry at Calder and at autism. 

           I started Calderism to share what it’s like to grow up with an autistic brother. I thought other siblings would be able to relate and feel less alone. I also wanted my friends, who are nervous around “special needs” kids, to feel comfortable at our house. I picked the title “Calderism” because that’s what my family calls the sayings Calder types on his iPad. My favorite one is “you need to respect my freedom to snack.” 

           For this blog, I have asked Calder why he listens to Coldplay’s ‘Strawberry Swing’ on constant repeat. I think it’s an annoying and dated song, but he said it helps him stay calm. His insight has changed my perspective from seeing his behaviors as a barrier to understanding that they’re a coping mechanism. This led to me questioning him more about his stims and Calder explaining the reasons behind them. He has so much to say, and I realized how important it is to share his unique voice. Out in public, he’s often misunderstood and pitied for all the things he can’t do. Instead of blaming autism, I use the blog to celebrate all the things he can do, like hike waterfalls and tell funny jokes. 

           I have always been shy, but Calder has made me braver. If he gets a “who is the spazzy-weirdo” look at the restaurant because he is jumping up and down, I’ll tell the person he’s glad the chips and salsa have arrived. At the park when Calder’s dive bombing off a swing and someone criticizes us for not keeping him safe, I assure them he always lands on his feet. He’s autistic, not fragile.

           When I started this blog, I thought I could share how to be a good sibling to an autistic. Instead, the blog has taught me what an amazing sibling I have. I’ve learned not to baby Calder. He wants me to challenge him. In turn, Calder is finding his voice. I love posting his tales of how our family dog steals cars and smokes cigarettes. They probably aren’t age appropriate for a twelve year old, but they crack me up and I hope readers realize how fierce, funny, and individual an autistic person can be.          

           Calder has taught me not to jump to conclusions about people. We shouldn’t judge a behavior, we should consider the motivation behind it. Instead of looking for the negative, I appreciate the positive. People aren’t normal and they aren’t weird. Everyone deserves respect, love, and to be heard. My brother is not special. He is my equal.