From June 2018 the New South Wales state government have signed over disability services funding to the federal government as part of the NDIS agreement and will no longer be funding disability advocacy.
I spend so much of my time in public *not stimming*. I really wish I was more comfortable letting others see me move the way I want to….. need to.
It no longer shocks me when I read comments on social media that excuse the murders of disabled people. In fact, these days I actually expect it to happen.
When I was in primary school, I went to stay with my grandparents one night that I have not forgotten, even 30 or so years later. Last week I received a message on my blog that I doubt I will ever forget. The two events are separated by decades, but remembering the first just after the occurrence of the second started a chain of thoughts that brought me to a place of realisation I was not expecting.
Every now and then, not really frequently, but often enough that I am going to say something about it, I see a sentiment brought into conversations by non-autistic parents of Autistic children that goes along the lines of ….
There is something about growing, changing, identifying parts of yourself that you had not recognised, that is deeply unsettlingly liberating. I have been struggling to put words to it. Then today, this beautiful butterfly sat in my path.
In the ongoing dialogue around the needs of Autistic people, I see a pretty consistent divide.
There is a group of people saying that Autistic people need to be put in therapy or treatment to ease their symptoms, and that it would be good if there was a way to cure or prevent Autism.
And there is a group saying they don’t and it wouldn’t.
I am tired. So, so tired.
It is not a lack of sleep tiredness, but a heaviness in the core of my being kind of tiredness.
It is a tiredness that comes from trying to process a consistent incongruence, as if the soundtrack doesn’t match the story, and it makes everything seem wrong.