I have two older brothers, and the eldest is severely autistic. He can't speak, but he does make noises that indicate what he's feeling. He can use sign language and he knows sign language, but he's lazy and if he wants something, he often just takes your hand and shows you it.
He's eight years older than me. Growing up me and my other brother didn't exactly get a normal childhood, but my parents definitely tried their best with all three of us. My autistic brother's needs always came first, understandably.
If we went out for the day and he threw a fit in the first five minutes? Back home we went. When we went out to eat? If we didn't finish eating by the time he did, we didn't get the rest of our meal. (This is why I eat so quickly, even now; my mum and brother are the same).
Christmas morning was the worst. We could open our presents... then we had to lock them away in our rooms so he didn't break them. We couldn't really watch Christmas TV or play board games, instead it was a case of one parent keeping him entertained, and the other cooking the dinner.
Sounds harsh but the first Christmas we had without him was one of the best I remember. We had found a school/home for him, because he was just too severe to stay at home with us. He fought with my other brother, who was a year younger than him, and he hit me a few times too.
One time we were in the car and something set him off and he reached over the backseat and began hitting me over and over again. We were on a busy road so my parents couldn't stop until we got further ahead. If I remember rightly, we had been stuck in traffic for some time, which set him off.
This was also the one and only time he did that to me. The rest of the time he would just headbutt me and push me. But over, what, the twelve or so years we lived together, he only ever lashed out at me about fifteen or so times. Maybe even less than that.
I think we had to grow up a little more quickly. When I was very little I learnt that I had to forgo my bedtime story if both parents were too busy dealing with him. One time I remember me and a friend came to the front door to ask my dad if we could stay out a little later, and my autistic brother ran stark naked down the stairs behind him; I threw a hand over my friend's eyes before she could see anything (we had to be around ten, he'd of been eighteen).
But for me? Seeing him do that was frighteningly normal.
The worst effect he's had on me is that I flinch at sudden noises and if someone touches me unexpectedly. It's not massive, and it doesn't always happen, but that fight-or-flight reaction is still there.
The greatest effect? I've always had a great understanding about people with mental handicaps, I can see them for the person they are. I'm more patient as a result. I also worked with the mentally handicapped, and I plan to again in the future.
He's been a real inspiration to me, in his own way.