My life has always had a bit of a quirk. That's not to say that it has been bad, but it has been unique. My little brother Aaron, who is two years younger than I, has Down Syndrome. After 14 years, I have ceased to see him as anything other than my obnoxious little brother, but it hasn't always been that way. It did take quite a while before even I was able to look beyond his disability, but I've now made it a part of my life's mission to make sure that everyone else sees him the way I do: a normal, moody, loving, and occasionally crazy teenage boy.
That being said, it's a lot harder than one would hope. I've spent the better part of my life advocating against the r-word, explaining Down Syndrome, and trying to ignore the looks of sympathy that often accompany the "oh, I'm sorry," from people when I tell them my little brother has Down Syndrome.
Never have I understood why there is any sympathy, nor will I ever understand. What in our society has told us that my being related to someone with one extra chromosome must be a bad thing? Sure he can be frustrating, but aren't all brothers? Yes, he constantly talks about the girls he likes, but wouldn't any other teenage boy? Do I always like him? No, not every second of every day, but I always love him. Ask any other girl my age with a brother Aaron's age, and I feel that there's a more than likely chance that they deal with the exact same feelings. But I also feel confident that I'm even luckier than they are.
Aaron has had an impact on me that stretches far past our daily familial bond. I plan on possibly pursuing a career in special education, and that has everything to do with Aaron. He is the whole reason I want to work with kids with special needs, but even if those plans don't come to fruition, he will be by my side every step of the way. His being in my life has not only shaped my hopes for the future but also who I am today.
My personality has been molded and formed over the years by my interactions with Aaron. He has tested my patience an infinite number of times, and I suspect he will continue to do so in the future, and, through that, I have learned to stay calm and collected whenever angry or frustrated. My sense of humor has been formed by years and years of trying to make him laugh when he was upset, and constantly watching kids shows chock full of cheesy puns and jokes. My outgoing and extroverted personality comes from trying to stay on the same level with his enthusiasm. If I wanted to get a word in, I had to be ten times louder, happier, and sociable, or it just wasn't going to happen.
In the end, it is I who sympathize for those who don't have that extra chromosome in their lives because it has made my life such a unique blessing that I can't imagine it any other way.