If I had to sum up last month, it would be about caregiving and how much it honestly scared me. If you didn’t already know, I have a brother with Autism, he’s my world. Last month was Autism Awareness Month. While many posted about awareness or inclusion and called out those who mocked people with disabilities, I was focused on my life and how caregiving was slowly getting into the picture. I thought about the daily commitment, the fears, and the responsibilities of loving and supporting someone with special needs. And for a long time, I found myself terrified. Cue the horror music. My brother is going to be 25, and while I thank God for his life, it also makes me think about milestones, what he hasn’t done yet, what he’s doing now, and what life could be like in the next few years. A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with my dad, and for the first time, he was vulnerable and opened up,” What happens when I die?” As usual, as the priest in my home, I encouraged him: “ We ...
I believe in the opinion that everyone has thought of suicide, and you can argue, but you know deep down, something may have happened to you to make you say, “I’m going to end it all.” But let’s talk about something that happened to me. Now, this article is not to scare you, or to make me seem easily influenced by the other voice. It is to remind you of three things. One, bottling emotions is not good. Two, the role of caregiving for someone with a disability is not something that is your sole responsibility. Three, the devil is a bastard. Okay, let's get into it. If you’ve been following my space, you probably know that I have a brother with Autism. As much as it is a beautiful experience, it is very scary. Whenever my brother is coming to the house from school, we ‘ Tobi-proof ’ the house, meaning that we have to hide some things, lock some things up, and it is quite a lot. See also: Choosing Love as a neurotypical sibling Long story short. I had a meltdown on Sunda...