Research Project Part One: Personal Narrative

One of the worst memories of my life was walking into my parents’ dark bedroom where I saw my mother and father cry. After all, they weren’t supposed to cry, they were supposed to be the epitome of strength and resilience. Seeing them both break down was horrifying, yet I didn’t know how to ask them what was wrong.
I later found out that they were crying about my brother, Justin, who has autism. They cried because they were too scared of what was going to happen to him in the future when they were gone. They had no idea how he would navigate the scary world independently without constant care from his family. After hearing their despair, I too feared for my brother’s future, promising that I would be his main caretaker in the future.

Years after this incident, my parents did not break down over fear for him in front of me anymore. My mother started researching government assistance for my brother, to explore what resources he would have so that he would have a good life after my parents were gone. We were introduced to Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy, with therapists visiting our house every day. I became used to the constant Zoom meetings discussing Justin’s financial plan and how my mother would budget his expenses and resources. Researching post-middle school opportunities became the norm in my household: advocating for him to be put in the local trades high school
where he was enrolled in the culinary program. The results lit up hope in my parents’ eyes, even though it would be a long time until they would be fully satisfied with the opportunities my brother would have.

This research project investigates how government policies and assistance reflect the
growing acceptance of those diagnosed with autism. I hope to gain a better sense of how my brother’s future will look like and how people like me can effectively advocate for their loved ones.

Research Project Part One: In His Shoes: Understanding Autism in My Family

One of the worst memories of my life was walking into my parents’ dark bedroom where I saw my mother and father cry. After all, they weren’t supposed to cry, they were supposed to be the epitome of strength and resilience. Seeing them both break down was horrifying, yet I didn’t know how to ask them what was wrong.

I later found out that they were crying about my brother, Justin, who has autism. They cried because they were too scared of what was going to happen to him in the future when they were gone. They had no idea how he would navigate the scary world independently without constant care from his family. After hearing their despair, I too feared for my brother’s future, promising that I would be his main caretaker in the future. 

Years after this incident, my parents did not break down over fear for him in front of me anymore. My mother started researching government assistance for my brother, to explore what resources he would have so that he would have a good life after my parents were gone. We were introduced to Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy, with therapists visiting our house every day. I became used to the constant Zoom meetings discussing Justin’s financial plan and how my mother would budget his expenses and resources. Researching post-middle school opportunities became the norm in my household: advocating for him to be put in the local trades high school where he was enrolled in the culinary program. The results lit up hope in my parents’ eyes, even though it would be a long time until they would be fully satisfied with the opportunities my brother would have. 

This research project investigates how government policies and assistance reflect the growing acceptance of those diagnosed with autism. I hope to fully understand what my brother’s future will look like and how people like me can effectively advocate for their loved ones.