Siblings of children with special needs navigate life as overlooked caretakers, often sacrificing their own needs for the greater good.
As an upbeat pop song fills the café, Jane* greets me with a bright smile, dressed in a lively dress that fits the image of a university student nearing graduation. But she doesn’t quite fit the mold of a typical student. Jane is a “glass child”—a term used for siblings of children with special needs, often overlooked and emotionally neglected, their own needs pushed aside to accommodate their siblings’ needs.
Jane’s 20-year-old brother, James, has severe autism spectrum disorder coupled with an intellectual disability. His struggles with transitions between tasks, even simple ones like showering, require constant support, often causing distress. As Jane shares her experience, the scars on her hands and forearms are visible—reminders of the many times her brother’s behaviors left her injured. “These are from him,” she says, showing the marks. “When he scratches, he digs into my skin, and I bleed.”
Growing up, Jane was always in the background while others, like therapists and social workers, came to visit her brother. “I felt invisible,” she recalls. “They were always focused on him, and I was just told to stay out of the way.” This lack of attention left her feeling confused and resentful toward her brother. “I would scold him and pinch him,” she admits, adding that she was often punished for her behavior, with little regard for the emotional turmoil that caused it.
In school, Jane overcompensated for the lack of attention at home by becoming a people-pleaser. She sought validation from teachers, seeing them as substitute parental figures. Despite being neglected at home, these adult figures became crucial in her life, especially during the high-pressure period of preparing for her O-Level exams. Anxiety and panic attacks began to take their toll, and when her grades dropped, her parents attributed it to poor stress management. “They didn’t understand that I was struggling with something deeper,” she reflects.
Eventually, her teachers intervened, and she started therapy. However, the financial strain of therapy forced her to stop after just five months—her parents felt that the resources should be devoted to her brother’s care. This sense of being second to her brother in every way caused Jane frustration, but she found moments of solace when her father made an effort to spend time with her.
The pressure on glass children is immense. Often forced to mature quickly, they end up acting as secondary caregivers for their siblings. During the pandemic, Jane had to take on even more responsibility when the family’s domestic helper left. She now had to manage her brother’s meltdowns and take charge of most of the household administration during family trips.
Aida, 32, shares a similar experience, being the eldest sibling of two younger sisters with special needs—one with global developmental delay and the other with autism. Aida’s role as the caretaker became ingrained in her childhood, as her mother bore the brunt of the caregiving. Aida became so independent that she often neglected her own needs. “I didn’t want to get in the way of my mum,” she says, reflecting on her years as a people-pleaser. “I always wanted to be the good child, the one who didn’t add to her burden.”
As Aida grew older, she began to recognize how much of her own life was sacrificed for her sisters. “I didn’t know how to say no,” she admits, explaining how her freelancing work was often put on hold to care for her sisters. It wasn’t until she took a full-time job that she began setting boundaries. “Now, I focus on myself,” she says, learning to prioritize her needs while still being a strong advocate for her family.
For Jane, this journey of sacrifice and care continues. Despite the challenges, she’s determined to make a difference for her brother and others in the special needs community. She advocates for autism awareness and plans to enter the field professionally after graduation, hoping her perspective as a sibling will bring new insights. “I want to make a difference in the sector,” she says, even though it can sometimes feel like she’s running on empty.
Ultimately, glass children like Jane and Aida are defined by resilience. They learn to navigate a world that often overlooks their needs and take on responsibilities that most wouldn’t understand. Their sacrifices, though invisible to many, form the backbone of their families, proving that even though they may be overlooked, they are unbroken.
*Names changed for privacy.
