David is 14 and a big brother. He’s a good big brother. His little brother Jim is 11 and was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Pervasive Developmental Disorder (PDD). Most people have heard of Bipolar even if they really don’t understand it, but fewer have heard of PDD. By now, David could probably you as much about them as any therapist. In fact he could tell you far more, because most therapists don’t watch their little brothers become hostage to them.

A textbook definition reveals that bipolar disorder used to be called manic-depression, but was renamed to more accurately reflect the fact that not just elation and sadness, but anger and calm, sociability and solitude, and a whole range of polar emotions are affected by the condition. PDD is defined as a range of conditions that include some with only a few features of autism on one end, to classic autism on the other. To a layperson, Diagnosing somebody with one of these conditions can be hopelessly confusing because the range of symptoms for one can seem almost identical to the symptoms of another. “Almost” is the key word; testing is often required to find where the “almost” is.

David has a general understanding of these definitions, but he knows so much more. He knows that his little brother will love him unconditionally right before he tries to hit him in anger. He loves Jim and protects him, but later wishes they never met. David knows his parents love him, but feels forgotten when they spend two hours trying to get control of Jim’s out-of –control behavior. He knows those times when they have a good time together and then go back to their own interests are far and few between the times when Jim follows him like a shadow, wanting his undivided attention. If left alone, Jim will hug him every minute or two for hours and stay within a foot of him. He doesn’t want to hate Jim, but he wants to scream at him to get away.

David is sociable by nature. As a result, he has a stream of friends always calling or knocking on the door for him. Not surprisingly, he feels good to know he’s liked. He’ll share his friends with Jim, only to watch him get angry if he wants to be alone with them. He knows his friends may get tired of Jim’s constant need for physical contact. He tries to prepare them for it but they’re still kids with their own needs, and constant hugging from Jim isn’t one of them.

Deep down, David knows his parents are trying to balance his and Jim’s needs, but often, it doesn’t seem like they’re succeeding. He becomes angry and fights with them about it, calms down, feels guilty and reconciles. The next day or even a few hours later, Jim’s bipolar and PDD gatekeepers take over and the cycle starts all over again. David just wants to scream and get out of there, get out and be among his friends where he can put this behind. He’ll want to meet them at the mall, downtown or even the high school, anywhere but home. If he’s home and doesn’t want hear any more, he takes refuge in his bedroom. There with his computer, he joins the cyberworld of his friends through Myspace and AIM.

David has the ability to do whatever he wants and he knows it. It’s not a conceit; it’s the simple knowledge that when he tries, he can do things better than almost anybody he knows. It’s the knowledge that when he was eighteen months old, he took apart and reassembled his grandma’s phone. It’s the knowledge that when he was ten, he figured out how to hotwire his parents car without anybody having taught him how to do it. It’s the knowledge that two years ago, his school placed him in an elite art class while other students had to compete for limited spots.

He knows that the parts of his brain that control those functions blessed him with almost unlimited potential. But the parts of his brain that allow him to love his family and care about his little brother have seemingly blessed and cursed him. A life without the ability to love and care is an empty one. He need not worry; in that way he is blessed.

Despite the turmoil he sees, he shows the deepest love and caring at the most unexpected times. Times come along when his parents are utterly worn down from Jim’s disorders. David changes from a boy to a man and steps in, calming Jim down when we think it can’t be done.

But he’s still a 14 year-old trying to understand and discover life for himself, who doesn’t yet have the experience to have wisdom. His love for Jim and his family can drain him and leave him at a loss. He’ll wonder why the people he loves don’t seem to show their love to him on demand like they do to Jim. Try as he might at those times, he can’t understand. But when they protect and help him, he gets angry because they love him too much. He loves his little brother. In fact he loves being a big brother. So why does he love Jim one minute and hate him the next? He lives in the eye of a storm and wonders if anybody knows it.

A lot of attention is given to the kids who have these developmental and behavior disorders, and that's the way it should be. Perhaps though, a little more has to be paid to the kids on the sidelines, the brothers and sisters who are labeled as normal and expected to behave that way, despite the heavy burdens of suffering both from and for their disabled siblings.

When things are calm David knows he’s loved, but might not know how deeply. His parents are close by and think about him constantly, but the simple fact of Jim’s bipolar disorder and PDD steal time they would otherwise share with him. He knows that, but it’s hard to remember when the storm surrounds you. His parents know and he knows he has a bright future if they can handle the tumultuous present. Sometimes, that seems impossible to David. He sometimes needs to say that aloud to them. But they owe it to David to never say “impossible” to him nor themselves. They need to believe anything is possible for him and to tell him that on those times when he can’t tell himself. They need to guide him through the storm.

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