Sibling Guilt

On our summer vacation, I had an epiphany. Well, actually, I had a meltdown, then I had the epiphany.

First the meltdown:

In July, our family of four took the risk and went on a family vacation. It was so needed. Our past spring had been our toughest season yet since beginning the autism journey ten years ago. We were all worn out.

To our relief our vacation was off to a great start. We had seen more peace, less meltdowns, than in the past five months.

We were unpacking groceries in the kitchen of our vacation rental, when out of no where (as painfully is often the case), our daughter, Alaina got frustrated and began screaming and hitting herself.

I usually go and tend Alaina immediately, but this time my focus went to our daughter, Sasha.

She was standing still staring at the the linoleum floor. Tears were streaming down her sunburned cheeks.

She was so disappointed.

Not again. Not on vacation.

I inwardly started to lose it: I wanted Sasha to get a break and to have some fun. I didn’t want to her have to have another rough moment with her sister. These thoughts swirled around in my head until I snapped.

I began to scream at Alaina “Stop ruining our vacation!!”

I threw a box of almond flour crackers.

Then I ran upstairs and locked myself in the bedroom closet.

In the dark, stuffy space, I cried for my disappointment.

I cried for my shame of not holding it together.

But I mainly cried for my guilt.

Sasha was five months old when her sister was diagnosed with autism.

Since then, I have carried guilt that I couldn’t protect her from having a sister with special needs.

I have guilt for all the stares we get in grocery stores.

I have guilt that I can’t give her an older sister with whom she can share advice with, go to school with, or have sleepovers with.

I have guilt that Alaina has meltdowns that I can’t predict and can’t take away, and that sometimes she has them in the worst moments like on Christmas day, or on this happy, summer vacation afternoon.

My guilt often turns into panic.

I’ve got to protect her.

I’ve got to make it up to her.

And when I can’t do these things, I loose it and throw boxes of crackers.

In the closet after I stopping crying and wishing the world to end, it was time to let go of this guilt.

Here was the epiphany:

Autism is part of Sasha’s life.

I will no longer feel guilt for it, try to shield her from it, or try to make up for it.

But I can, teach her how to respond to it.

I can teach her that hard stuff can be walked though instead of avoiding.

That different is not bad.

That patience is worth more than immediate.

that

loving

giving

trusting

will always see her through.

The truth is, Sasha is turning into to be an amazing girl. She has depth, character, patience and kindness far beyond what I had when I was her age.

Her life experience of being the sister of someone with autism is teaching her more than I could have by giving her a perfectly “pain free” childhood.

And that is an epiphany.

That is letting go of sibling guilt.

That is peace.

Written by, Kristin Pattison

Kristin Pattison and her husband raise their two beautiful daughters in Arizona.

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