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Showing posts from June, 2011

No: A Vocabulary Makeover

A parent requests the disability supports a family member needs. A person on fixed income applies for increased rent subsidy to match increased expenses. Access to mental health services is required. "No" is a word heard repeatedly by people accessing social assistance. As I waited in line to pick up a cheque that could not be mailed because of the current postal strike/lock out in Canada, I heard many forms of "no". I believe it is time for a vocabulary makeover: That's not our mandate:  This response tells me the service provider is system oriented, not client oriented. The potential client is dehumanized as their needs are externalized into a checklist. It is emotionally easier to say no to a piece of paper than a person. For the applicant, it is challenging to not take the rejection personally. Your friend gave you the wrong information:  This typifies the mistrust service providers can develop towards their potential clients. It also undermines the soc

Four Reasons for Five More Years

June 2006. Back on the psych ward for the sixth time. Medications conflicting. Over 200 pounds. Not knowing how to continue living, but not wanting life to end. Dear 34 year old me, Thank you for holding on to Life. I couldn't write to you otherwise. Please read carefully. The state you are in now does not reflect who you really are. Loved: Through losing those you most deeply love, you will discover that your identity is secure. The people who return to your life in addition to the new friends and connections - each one will become a gift to love. You will no longer snatch what love you can from others because your heart has more than enough love to give. Accepted: The severe rejection you face will intensify. Eventually even the system will not want you. When you receive your diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder, you will begin to accept yourself. Yet even that acceptance will not be enough. You will trade rejection for acceptance from the one who will never spurn you.

Born Blue

Twelve years ago today I heard the most amazing sound - my son's cry. After waiting longer than I can hold my breath, he took his first one. And let out a scream that lasted most of his first year and much of his second, third and fourth year. He punctuated the next few years with bursts of screaming, but his language abilities have held him up under all but the most trying times. Now he will scribble a scream, or write very large.  For which my ears are thankful. But his first scream? That was beautiful.