5 Lessons My Autistic Brother Taught Me – Without Even Trying

Recently, a friend asked me how different my life would be without my brother, Jamie, who has autism. Honestly, I can say, without a doubt, that my life would be a lot less vibrant, less intriguing, and far less rewarding. Jamie has imparted numerous lessons over the past couple of decades simply by being himself. Here are my top five takeaways:

1. If you can’t handle the truth, don’t ask.

Jamie has a refreshing honesty that is truly one of a kind. He doesn’t mean to be rude; he just lacks a filter. Lying is simply not in his nature, which has sometimes landed him in tricky situations. I can’t count how many times I’ve asked, “Are you happy to see me?” only to hear, “Not really.” It always makes me chuckle and wonder how different the world would be if everyone were that forthright. Regardless, I always rely on his fashion advice!

2. Not every challenge is visible.

You don’t have to be bleeding to be in pain. Autism is an unseen disability; even if you notice Jamie flapping his arms or softly talking to himself, you might not grasp the whole story. This reality can be both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes I wish Jamie had a visible condition, one that would instantly make people more understanding and patient. When people see my brother—a tall, handsome young man—they often misinterpret his behavior as “strange” or “disrespectful.” We all have our struggles, and I’ve learned to approach every situation with an open heart and mind. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.

3. Grieving isn’t just for loss.

I once shared with a writer that getting an autism diagnosis felt like losing a dear friend. It’s a harsh comparison, but it rings true. You’re mourning the future you envisioned for yourself and your family. I went through stages of denial, anger, and sadness. It’s okay to feel all of that. I still grieve for the life Jamie might have had, but I try to limit those moments to a few minutes because dwelling on sadness doesn’t help anyone.

4. Miracles do happen.

I know, I’m sounding a bit cliché here, but it’s important for parents of children with disabilities to believe this. Set realistic expectations, but don’t box yourself in. Just because Jamie was nonverbal doesn’t mean he’s stuck in that box forever. The Jamie I know today is so different from the one I knew ten years ago or even six months ago. Nonverbal Jamie not only speaks now but also sings (and he’s got a better voice than I do).

5. You can’t control everything, but you can control your reactions.

I love to plan and organize; I thrive on structure. But having a sibling with a disability often means letting go of that control. You never know what milestones will be reached or what might disrupt your plans, like a meltdown over “hard pants.”^* Instead of stressing over what you can’t control, focus your energy on what you can. You don’t have to be a ray of sunshine every day (but honestly, that makes life a lot more fun).

^*(“Hard pants” is Jamie’s term for jeans; he preferred sweatpants for years because he couldn’t stand the texture of other fabrics.)

6. A simple “hello” goes a long way.

This one’s pretty self-explanatory!

In conclusion, my brother Jamie has taught me invaluable lessons about honesty, empathy, and resilience. His presence has made my life richer in ways I never could have imagined.

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