families of people with special needs Archives

A Million Beautiful Pieces October 21, 2021

Dream a new dream

This post is dedicated to parents who put aside their dreams, have taken the knocks and wake up every day to pour faith, hope and love into the world. I see you.

October marks Mental Health Day, Cerebral Palsy Day and Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) month (this is for people who use other ways of communication than talking because they have limited or no functional speech or are non-speaking). This month is also Down Syndrome Awareness, Breast Cancer Month and many more awareness days.

The first three awareness topics are a big part of the fabric of my life.

The dream I hoped would become my reality

When Savannah was seven years old (she was already diagnosed with cerebral palsy but was not yet diagnosed as autistic), I was hailed as somewhat of a “SuperHero” mum. I learnt how to help Savannah to communicate. As a toddler, she could make three sounds which we understood to have specific meanings. She also used some signs and gestures to communicate specific needs. Now mind you this was all-pre-social media and with no access to the internet, so everything learnt was from therapists and good old fashioned intuition.

From there we used special software to teach Savannah to use pictures to communicate. Then she began saying some words, then some phrases and now prefers to communicate mostly by speaking. She is still not always easily understood and uses various methods to make herself understood.

Because of this feat in teaching Savannah to communicate, I had a career in that sector. I loved learning and teaching and training people who needed to use AAC, their families, schools, and other professionals.

Like many mothers before me and no doubt even now, I learnt on the job so to speak, and concurrently immersed myself in helping others. I knew what helplessness felt like, and I loved that eventually, I was able to help my child. How could I possibly not help anyone else’

Letting go of the dream

One day I was sitting in a training about a communication strategy, and everyone in the room was so enamoured with the technique. I was too, except I felt equally ill watching the videos. In all the videos, the person who everything depended on to implement was usually the primary caregiver and most times that was the mother. For years, I was everything to Savannah while also filling all the other roles I had. The best description was:

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread”
J.R.R Tolkien – The Fellowship of the Rings.

The question I was trying to avoid went off like alarm sirens in my head: When will they (anyone who was bold enough to think they should speak on this point) stop telling us as mothers and fathers that we need to care for ourselves while we do the Superhuman task of staying employed while being available as a nurse, teacher, therapist, parent, cheerleader, cook, bather, cleaner, and friend to our child? While the scope of the needs within each of these titles kept changing.

I also knew without a doubt that being a “Super” anything meant very little when one can’t meet all the needs that a person with a disability has. Those needs don’t diminish over time. They became bigger needs like suitable housing, a suitable vehicle, access to services for adults, long drives to specialists, the ability to keep doing the same thing over and over for years and the strength to keep fighting for access and inclusion.

The skills I acquired in a specialist field, became a source of pain because the fact is that only a degree would have made a real difference to me. It did not matter how much experience I had or what force of passion drove my acquisition of that skill. Earning that degree would come at a huge cost in many ways, and with so little of myself left to spread, I had to let that dream go.

I felt I had let Savannah down. I gave myself to something that was not going to help me care for her well enough for the long run. I felt stupid for not pursuing a career in a sector with more options to increase my earning potential. I failed my family. I stopped trusting myself.

Dreaming a new dream

There is a line in a song:

“The very thing I love is killing me and I can’t conquer it”.
Monster under my bed song by Eminen and Rihanna

I used to sing that all the time because I loved my daughter. I loved what I did for a living. But I also knew it was never going to be sustainable to keep going in a field where the academic qualification mattered. Now I am here, forty-three years old, with a wealth of knowledge and experience that I can’t be credited for.

So I dreamed a new dream. I am incredibly blessed to have a paid job. It has little to do with my dream job so, in my own time, I still serve other families and professionals when I have the capacity to do so. I don’t know everything, but I know some things that make a valuable difference to others. My life has more flexibility and allows me to take better care of my family.

Have I found my dream life?

Yes and No. In the Book of Philippians Paul writes, “I know how to be content whatever the circumstances”. There are parts of my life now that I jump out of bed for and there are parts that I have to drag myself to do because it is the only option before me. I know the value of grit and grace.

In this country, access to support, skills, and empowering parents to be the best they can be to their children and to do that in a way that gives dignity to both the parents and the child is few and far between.

When it does exist, it is usually because a parent is making it happen for themselves and others. Far too often something has got to give. Usually, it is the parent’s mental health. Usually, no one notices until it is too late, and a life-changing event happens. A chronic or terminal illness, addiction, divorce, depression, or even worse abuse and even suicide. I have seen so many families fall apart, and I know that it has only by grace I have not yet fallen too far down the rabbit hole.

This October we have many issues on the calendar to be aware of. Mental Health is always a top priority for me. When we don’t have easy and low-cost access to support for parents and especially for those of us who have to be long-term caregivers, it is a feat to build and maintain the life we want. It all begins and ends with how realistic we are of how much a person can cope with, acknowledging that not everyone has the same capacity and that we should not be penalised for that. I sincerely hope that this post will in the least inspire you to:

Make spaces for parents who are trying desperately to find some meaning in their child’s diagnosis and are doing that by giving of themselves. Provide opportunity and friendship. Both are needed in equal amounts.
Remind yourself of when your child was a baby, and how hard those early days were. Now imagine doing that for the rest of your life while pursuing a career. That is long term caregiving. Give those caregivers a little grace.
When a parent changes course and tries something new at thirty years old, forty years old, fifty even sixty, it doesn’t mean they have failed. It only shows that they are willing to keep trying to add value to their lives, their family and maybe in some way even to the world. Be supportive.
Lastly, there is no such thing as fair in life. So when a parent doing double duty needs extra leave or gets that promotion, it’s not unfair. It is life, and sadly if life was fair, there would be more help for parents who are long-term caregivers.
Please be kind. It costs nothing.

Finally, to the mama bears who I have the privilege of being a pillar to, Khalil Gibran said

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

I am holding space for you as other women have held for me. You are not alone. In your own way, by your own standards, you can begin again and dream a new dream. It may surprise you and be a little more delightful than the ones you dreamed of before.

For Professional Help, please call

Lifeline: 0861 322 322
South African Depression and Anxiety Group: 0800 567 567
or contact a counselling service in your area.

Desirae has three children: Savannah (25 years), Talisa (19years) and Eli Michael (13 years). Savannah was born when Desirae was eighteen years old and she was a single mother for a time before marrying Michael. Savannah is autistic and is a person with cerebral palsy. Michael and Desirae care for Savannah as she cannot live independently. Desirae worked as an Assistive Technology Advisor in the disability sector, served in the autism community, and is now employed in the child safety sector. She writes for the purpose of sharing different perspectives and to encourage a thinking line around being kinder and more considerate of other people’s experiences in the areas of parenting, childhood trauma and disability. She writes because she knows that Faith, Hope and Love abide.

Disability Advocacy September 27, 2019

The Pen Is Mightier Than the Sword, but Kindness transcends them both

I wrote the first part of this piece eight years ago and shared it a few times since then on other platforms. This is the second part to that piece.

As a writer who shares my own experiences about my struggles with childhood trauma, sexual abuse, being a teenage parent and parenting a child with a disability; it’s special when people write to me to express their gratitude. I don’t take for granted that it is a God-given talent to put words to some unspeakable hurts and experiences. It is Grace that keeps filling my life with Faith, Hope and Love.

Then there are those who are embarrassed that now they know what they would rather not know, and try to make me feel bad for writing it. I can’t help you besides suggesting that you stop reading my work.

I am almost forty-four years old. Of that time I’ve been a mother for twenty-five years to a child with a disability, and two more children while painstakingly trying to piece back what was destroyed in my childhood and in my early adulthood.

That’s twenty-five years of facing social systems where it has been inconvenient to include our daughter with a disability. Twenty-five years of reading cues in social gatherings of whether we are wanted or not. Or how long before they push us aside when they realise that Savannah is a 24/7/365 commitment for us?

Twenty-five years of giving people the benefit of the doubt, only to have Savannah made fun of dismissed by those who were entrusted to care for her. Twenty-five years of having to deal with mothers who let me know how grateful they are that their children aren’t like Savannah. There’s that pat to Savannah’s head and pronouncement that ‘They are such a blessing.’ I keep thinking to reply ‘I hope God blesses you as much as He has blessed me.’ But my fear of extending the unwanted encounter holds me back.

Twenty-five years of still having days when I go to bed weeping, frustrated or lying awake at night wondering what will happen when Michael and I are no longer here.

So why do I keep writing about the hard stuff?

Simply because I am still inspired by my children to leave behind encouragement and evidence for them to know how hard we tried. I write so that my children will know I tried to change hearts and minds, and that being kind is still worth it. In my first edition of this post, I wrote that gaining acceptance within society was the reason I wrote. Now, in the aftermath of the Esidimeni tragedy, and the continued lack of services and support our community faces, I also write to remind other families that we are not alone.

While we bear up against it all, we can be united and be a source of comfort, hope and information.

Like the way, my children comfort each other when they are made uncomfortable because their sister is different. It’s a sad day or a glorious one (whichever way you choose to look at it) when your children can explain the love of God in spite of the callousness of other people.

Sometimes callousness takes the form of being given unsolicited advice. Other times it’s to point out to us, in Savannah’s presence, that God can do amazing things and He will make Savannah whole. I cry every time we hear that because of the severe lack of insight that statement contains. The testimony of God’s sufficiency to my family does not need to be proven by Savannah being made into anything other. His sufficiency is proven in our diligent commitment to her care and well being, even on days when we are overwrought by her complex and beautiful mind, and that we do it again and again. His sufficiency is when Savannah comforts us, and when she laughs and loves freely and without restraint. That’s a testimony of faith and sufficiency.

After twenty-five years of this, I’ve learnt that many people need Savannah to be fit into their limited understanding of God’s goodness for THEIR faith to be affirmed. It feels like they see Savannah as broken and someone who should be “fixed” to match their idea of a whole person so that they can feel affirmed that God is good.

From left to right: Talisa, Eli and Savannah

But in our home, we know a secret. Savannah is a remarkable beauty; fearfully and wonderfully made like her siblings. While the world is designed to forsake us, judge us, dismiss us, persecute us, and remind us how we can’t fit in with their carefully organised systems; we know a God who understands that in our fatigue, it’s hard to grasp theology but easy to hold onto Kindness. A God to whom my children speak to like this:

‘Thank you, God, for the patience you give us. Now please can you give the same to the parents who are racing in school traffic when we are all going to the same place at the same time.’

Or‘Lord, thank you for Savannah. I realised today that she does an amazing thing. She can still choose people who won’t choose her’.

Or Savannah’s prayer, ‘Lord, Thank you my life. Please help lady with walker at church. I feel sorry for her. My dad is sick. I am stressed about him. Look after my sister, my brother. Help my mum. Amen.’

When ignorance pierces my armour; I hold the broken pieces of my heart before God with my favourite poem about loving a child who is different:

I DO NOT CRY FOR WHO YOU ARE(Author Unknown)

Tears have stopped falling
On the fragments of my dreams,
I no longer mourn illusions
Of yesterday’s reality.

Tears that fell so often,
Almost every day,
But that was when the rain poured down
And the sky was always grey.

Now I feel the sunshine,
And the sky is blue again,
I’m living on a rainbow,
But I still cry now and then.

I do not cry for who you are
Nor what will never be
My pain’s in the confusion
And the vulnerability

My frustration’s with a society,
That cannot see you’re mine,
My anger’s to the ignorance,
That will never try.

My fear is from uncertainty
That increases over time.
My guilt is deep inside my soul,
Each time they make me cry.

I do not cry for who you are
Nor what can never be
I cry because they look at you
But never really see

They don’t see how the differences,
Could make the world complete,
They can’t all live on rainbows,
It’s just not meant to be.

You are not responsible,
For all that we’ve been through,
I would not change you for the world,
I would change the world for you.

Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do. Luke 23:34

With all the Love that I’ve found in the Million Beautiful Pieces that make my story, Desirae

A Million Beautiful Pieces July 1, 2019

Parenting: Is it unfair to other siblings, when one child has a disability?

This is my first blog post in three months. Time is a monster in my life but today, I had to write this, as short or long as it may turn out to be. In a time when parenting has become a central focus for many families, it is appalling to me that many people hold to a belief that in families where a child has a disability, it will always be unfair to the siblings of that child.

Now before I offer some insight into why this blanket opinion is appalling; let me acknowledge that there are families where siblings of a child with a disability have complex emotional needs. Their parents may not be as available to them as they might be to the child with a disability. Consider the myriad of demands on parents in typical parenting units. Can you only imagine what the demands are for parents who parent children with different needs? If you can’t imagine it, then let me offer this first piece of advice here – please do not make any comments or assumptions about what happens in families where disability is part of the dynamic. Zoe Gow’s shares her insight about this – Siblings and special needs: the life of the other child.

I can stand on my soap box here and rant about how if you are not raising a child with a disability, you cannot know how hard this is. You do not know what never-ending exhaustion is nor the mental and emotional stamina we must have everyday to be consistent in therapies and medications while also often trying to keep up with a mind that dances to a tune to which the lyrics and harmony are unfamiliar to the parents. And just when we think we have figured it out, the tune changes again.

Michael pulling Savannah up some stairs so we can browse a bookstore together.

From my soap box, I can also add to my rant that you cannot fathom, the love that keeps us doing this again and again, everyday.

But I won’t stand on my soap box to wax lyrical about that. Instead, I want to offer a different perspective from my own true story:

I am a survivor of childhood and teenage trauma, sexual abuse and domestic violence. I was a mother at eighteen years old to Savannah who is autistic and has cerebral palsy, and other stuff (her description of herself). I was made to feel ashamed by my family and my community because I had fallen pregnant out-of-wedlock, and also that my daughter had a disability.

Savannah taking a short stroll with me .

When I finally got my happily ever after, my parents decided to end their marriage as the sun dawned on mine. While I tried with all my might to bask in the glory of my husband and the fact that Savannah had a dad, the embers of my parents dying marriage caught at my soul and burned me. At the same time I was trying to recover from the loud ringing in my ears that announced that Savannah was “severely disabled” and had no hope of a future. I’m guessing you are piecing together by now that I must have had a couple serious emotional problems. I did but the demands placed on me meant that there was no space to acknowledge my own emotions about both events.

Still I wanted to have another baby. Yes. I selfishly wanted to know what it would feel like to have a child who was more like what I thought a child should be. But people would not let Michael and I have that. When we were pregnant for Talisa, we were told that it was unfair to bring a child into the world who would be burdened with Savannah someday. I was told to limit the time the new baby spent with Savannah because she would pick up Savannah’s “bad habits”.

Later when we had Eli, we were told thank goodness we had him, atleast Talisa will not be alone. (Huh,she wasn’t. She had Savannah.) We were asked how would we manage financially and if we thought about how much Talisa and Eli will be deprived off because Savannah will deplete us.

And while I would not describe our financial situation that way, it wasn’t untrue. But it stung that all people saw was a thing who was here to destroy our lives. They did not see a person who deserved dignity, a good quality of life and who had dreams and hopes for herself. Just because her physical form and her mind had some variants to the rest of us, they wrote her off as no one and nothing. As if no good could come from her. An inconvenience.

Eli asleep on Savannah’s lap while travelling to our holiday destination.

Now all these many years later, Talisa and Eli have actually been “burdened” to care for Savannah, within their capacity. And shocker alert…there are days when Savannah is burdened by the bustle of two neuro-typical siblings. Their unstructured routines mess with hers and they encourage her to do crazy things like play cricket and then horror of horrors they want her to go out and mingle with people. They share insane plans with her about when Talisa has her drivers licence and how they will all three go out partying till late at night.

Oh and yes, those people were right. Our finances have been depleted because caring for someone with a disability in this country is not considered a human right but rather a fantastic opportunity to make money off desperate families who want to ensure their person with a disability is not deprived of care, medical attention and necessary supports. So we can’t give Talisa and Eli everything their hearts desire. However, often what their hearts desire is not what is necessary for a happy childhood. I sleep easy when I remind myself of that.

But maybe all those people were right. This life has been unfair to Talisa and Eli.

Savannah, Talisa and Eli on a recent visit to a Basothu Village.

Then I ask, what of the unfairness to the girl who was molested, watched domestic violence and adultery rip her family apart before she was thirteen, who was responsible for her parents marriage both in its existence and it demise, who was a cutter and a suicidal teenager and who understood guilt, rage and shame as normal. Why had no one told her parents that it was unfair to raise children that way?

Quite simply because somewhere we have lost our way and have aligned good parenting to a standard of living that is defined by where we live, what we drive, where our children go to school, what brands we wear, what technologies we own and what level of entertainment we can afford. Good parenting is none of that. It is very simply having a relationship with your children where you see each other, honestly and openly. The CNN reporter Anderson Cooper said of his mother Gloria Vanderbilt after her passing “I knew her and she knew me. And there is great comfort in that”.

Now I am no expert, but if my heart is my guide I’m going to go out on a limb here and say Michael and I have done something right in how we fostered our children’s relationships with each other. Their lives speak these truths:

While I talk about Talisa studying away from home after her school career ends and if that is right for her; she is in no big hurry to leave home. People who have had this discussion with her are always touched by her contentment and that her personal plans do not include fleeing from her sister and us.
Both Eli and Talisa’s plans include having a family. They talk about marriage and children so matter-of-factly and with such pride, that I’m the one who is stunned wondering what is wrong with these children.
They frequently joke with each other and with Savannah about where Sunday lunch will be held when they are adults, and which of them will take Savannah shopping to get the salad ingredients. They fully expect her to contribute to the lunch by making a salad. You know if she doesn’t, it would be unfair (snigger).
This morning I overheard Eli telling Talisa, that he was up playing on his PS4 till late last night and he heard Savannah call. He said “I was glad to have heard her before dad, because atleast I got to her before he awoke. She just needed help to turn over.” When I approached him about it, he said: “Mum, stop making it weird. She is my sister. And I’m not emotionally scarred from helping her.”

So maybe Talisa and Eli have grown up too fast. Maybe they have more responsibility than they should. In light of what many children are allowed access to on television, the internet and in their gaming, as well as that many children are still living with domestic violence, narcissism and so much worse; I’m going to say that developing selflessness, compassion, kindness, empathy, loyalty and sibling love that no one will ever understand, is not the worst thing that can happen to my children. And no I don’t think it’s unfair to them at all.

A Million Beautiful Pieces February 15, 2019

Valentine’s Day was not what we planned:heartbreak

The last few days, our eldest daughter Savannah was excitedly preparing to celebrate Valentine’s Day. This happens in two parts: exchanging presents and baking for the actual day, then a Valentine’s party with Savannah’s squad on the weekend. Talisa and Eli love this celebration because Savannah’s energy is directed at making them happy. Yesterday afternoon, we should have been enjoying the fruits of Savannah’s labour. Instead Valentine’s Day was not what we planned: Heartbreak.

As we are still figuring out how best to help our children through this, I am not going to disclose which one of my children it is. Nor will I explain where this happened and who was involved. We are affording our child who experienced this horrible interaction the opportunity to recover.

What happened was this:

One of my children was in a group with other children of the same age and an adult was present. An unplanned discussion happened about people with disabilities. One person made the following statements:

*People with disabilities should not be kept alive because once their parents die, they become a burden to their siblings.

*If I had to choose between having a physically disabled child and a mentally disabled child, I would choose a mentally disabled child because there are medicines to help them.

*Being disabled is no quality of life because they are suffering.

*What did Reeva Steenkamp see in Oscar Pistorius, because in his normal body he only came up to her waist?

*People born without limbs are pointless.

I can’t write all of what transpired out of respect to my child who had to endure this. The rest of what was said is even more shocking. Up until this point in our lives, Michael and I faced the prejudice, bigots, ignorance, and stupidity as Savannah’s parents. Now Talisa and Eli have to face this.

I worked in the disability sector. My brother Darren Moodley is an amputee. Our lives have been almost fully immersed in disability issues. Therefor my children do not know what different is. In fact they hold to the premise that everyone has some form of “disability”. It could be emotional, spiritual, something unseen. Most just cover it up well. Yesterday, my children realised just what prejudice looks like. It’s a trident that pierces and causes unbelievable pain. Now they are bleeding.

As Savannah’s mum, I can’t fully capture the emotional highs and lows I have experienced because I am ill-equipped as a person to support her. I can’t explain all the ugliness I’ve faced within myself. In learning how to be Savannah’s mother, I lost many things and I was never perfect. But always and without a doubt being Savannah’s mother taught me what unconditional love looks like. Not that I have been good at giving unconditional love myself. God gave it to me and Savannah lives it out for us everyday. Within all my times of complaining and in all my failures and mistakes Savannah only ever sees the best in me.

And that is the greatest gift Talisa and Eli have: their sister loves them and believes absolutely only the best of them. She finds no fault in them. Some would think she is an inconvenience to their lives. Siblings of children who are different know that love and convenience do not go hand in hand. Love is messy, unpredictable, confusing, frustrating, intense, forgiving, rejuvenating, strengthening, courageous, fearless, and necessary. This love teaches them the meaning of life: Mercy and Grace. Talisa and Eli understand this in a profound way that many adults struggle to grasp. When a person is without mercy and grace, then I can only weep for them. What a lonely, painful fall to reality they will face!

There is a saying within our community of people who are differently-abled “Having a child with a disability is not the worse thing to happen. The worst thing to happen is to raise a child who is cruel to people with disabilities.”

Please understand this. The world is changing. Mothers and Fathers and Brothers and Sisters are standing behind the community of People who are differently-abled. We are not sitting in the corners, cowering in fear. We are proudly out and about, displaying the beauty and glory of our community. Please empower your children with what is appropriate behaviour and speech about people who are different. Please ensure that your schools, social groups and religious organisations understand the rights of people who are different. Insist that your children understand and practice basic human courtesy and care. For the love of God, just be KIND!

The world is changing.

For today, my family will weep that we must suffer not because of who Savannah is. Because of who other people are.

I DO NOT CRY FOR WHO YOU ARE (Author Unknown)

Tears have stopped falling
On the fragments of my dreams,
I no longer mourn illusions
Of yesterday’s reality.

Tears that fell so often,
Almost every day,
But that was when the rain poured down
And the sky was always grey.

Now I feel the sunshine,
And the sky is blue again,
I’m living on a rainbow,
But I still cry now and then.

I do not cry for who you are
Nor what will never be
My pain’s in the confusion
And the vulnerability

My frustration’s with a society,
That cannot see you’re mine,
My anger’s to the ignorance,
That will never try.

My fear is from uncertainty
That increases over time.
My guilt is deep inside my soul,
Each time they make me cry.

I do not cry for who you are
Nor what can never be
I cry because they look at you
But never really see

They don’t see how the differences,
Could make the world complete,
They can’t all live on rainbows,
It’s just not meant to be.

You are not responsible,
For all that we’ve been through,
I would not change you for the world,
I would change the world for you.

A Million Beautiful Pieces February 7, 2019

Should siblings be responsible for each other? And if so, is that okay?

Savannah loves this photo of her with her siblings.

When parenting a child with a disability many people offer advice or opinions from their perspective of what would be best for a family like ours. People are not shy to give voice to the potential problems which they believe we face. Specifically, people assume that when non disabled siblings are raised with a sibling with a disability, it will cause some level of hardship in some way to the non disabled sibling. The idea that non disabled siblings will be responsible for their disabled sibling, is frowned upon. This blog post, like most posts that I write, is about giving insight into our lives in the hope of giving other families the vocabulary to speak their truth.

When Michael and I became pregnant with our second child Talisa, we had no fears about anything concerning the new baby. It might have been due to my new-found faith or it might have been that I was still in the honeymoon phase of my marriage. When Talisa was born unlike her elder sister, she was not a person with a disability. She was a demanding baby though and tested my resolve in many ways. But I was happy to have two children. We were very hopeful about the future for our family.

Sadly few people shared our delight. Some people thought that they should educate me about all the problems Talisa was going to experience because of her relation to Savannah. One person thought that Talisa would likely have poor speech because Savannah had a speech impediment. Another piece of unsolicited advice was that it was very unfair to Talisa to be born into a family with a person with a disability as she would be “burdened” with her sister. Someone else suggested that I should limit the time that the girls spent together. The list goes on.

Eli shares Savannah’s passion for gorillas. She was in awe of the wind-up gorilla toy he gave her for Christmas.

In hindsight I think most people were expressing their own fears about parenting a child with a disability. Of course, it was challenging. Especially in the early days when in many areas of development, Savannah and Talisa were on the same level. Even though there was a six-year age gap between them. While adjusting to mothering two girls with different demands, I was also trying to learn all about Savannah’s diagnosis. Savannah was a diagnosed with cerebral palsy. She was non speaking and had other issues that I could not quite understand. She was only diagnosed as being an autistic person when she eight years old. I can only describe the first three years of Talisa’s life as the ‘twilight years’.

By the time Eli came along we were a little more settled as a family unit. Both girls were besotted with him. Together all three formed their own unique relationship. I know many of my friends who have a child with a disability and non disabled children, often testify that having more than one child is the best thing they did. For those parents who choose to only parent their child with a disability, I understand that too. Raising children today is demanding in many ways, and at different times I struggled with the demands of being a parent. More so I struggled with the enormity of Savannah’s special needs. Please do not ask me if it is better to have more children or not after having a child with a disability. There is no better or worse when it comes to children. It is just about working out how to be the best for yourself and for your child or children.

Talisa reminds me that some things are not deep psychological issues. Some things are just what siblings do.

So fast forward to the present day, when Savannah is twenty-two years old, Talisa is sixteen years old and Eli is eleven years old. Talisa and Eli have some responsibility for Savannah. I was aware when both children began assuming certain areas of care for her. While those old voices sometimes echoed in my mind that my younger children shouldn’t be responsible for their sister, my children kept me in check.

My first check was a few years ago when Talisa spoke at an awareness event. She said that she does not often tell people she has a sister who is a person with a disability because she does not want to hear “Oh shame.” She continued to explain that when she meets the non disabled siblings of friends, she never responds with “Oh, shame”. She is a cheeky girl. Her point simply being that Savannah is just her sister like all other sibling relationships. While their relationship has different nuances to most siblings, she does not appreciate that “Oh, shame” is the response it should elicit.

A few more checks came as Eli grew. Being a boy, he easily slips into the role of protector. He enjoys teaching Savannah pranks and jokes. He helps her with: tying her shoelaces to assisting her with her communication software to exercising with her. When Michael is late in returning home, Eli helps Savannah with her bed time routine. (She does not stay asleep whenever I help her to bed, and somehow sleeps better when Michael or Eli put her to bed). I had to stop thanking him for what he does when he asked me to “stop making their sibling stuff awkward with my mum stuff”.

In homes like ours, where one person is vulnerable and will remain so for the rest of their lives, the levels of care and protection that develop between the family members are unique and precious. Few people outside this type of dynamic will understand it. We are always thinking about what might be too much for the non disabled siblings as far as being responsible goes, against what is vital to building strong sibling bonds. For many families siblings are more trustworthy than a professional care giver or another adult. In truth, one day they will be the only people who will oversee the care of their sibling with a disability.

This week as Savannah began her new therapy program, we created a group on WhatsApp for the team so that we can easily transfer information between home and therapy. Both Talisa and Eli are included in that group. As her siblings they share all her milestone moments with her as well as her day-to-day life. It is offensive to them when they are excluded from important areas of Savannah’s life. Talisa asked me once why people make a big deal about her role in Savannah’s future? She said that most siblings have some level of care and loyalty towards each other. How can anyone expect her to be detached from Savannah’s life when they both become adults?

Little brother is watching. Eli keeps a watch on Savannah’s YouTube browsing.

In raising our children, we did not heed the advice of anyone who thought that Savannah would be a burden to her siblings. We simply raised children in a home with a family that loved each other. Like all children, Talisa and Eli go through all the usual issues and triumphs of life as they grow. They have their own challenges, their own dreams and their own goals. Unlike other children they learnt a little something about tolerance and patience early in life. I think the best lesson they learnt is about accepting people for who they are. They are not angels or better than other children. They are simply siblings who get to understand loyalty and love much quicker than most.

For all parents of children with disabilities, we live with a constant fearful thought that we try to ignore. What will happen to our vulnerable children when we die? When we have more than one child, none of our children will be alone in the world. Especially our child with a disability.

Each family is different and every sibling deserves a life that is true to who they are. As parents we are responsible for building that life. Please think about that when you meet a family raising both disabled and non disabled children.

If you found this post helpful, you might also enjoy reading about Being Courageous Even In Uncertainty.

A Million Beautiful Pieces January 22, 2019

My Greatest Gift This Year: Journey To You (Part Two)

Today’s post is about a new idea I used to develop a positive mindset for Talisa and Eli as they began the new school year. It seems that my participation in Journey To You is a gift that keeps on giving as the idea was one which I learned at the course. I posted part one of this journey a few weeks ago: “My Greatest Gift This Year: Journey To You”.

When I participated in the life coaching course Journey To You, we learnt a valuable exercise about self-awareness and self-love. There were many coaches taking small groups throughout the three-day course. My coach was Maligay Govender and this was one of the processes which she guided me through. I had to list positive attributes about myself on an A4 length of page. It could be what I thought of myself and what others have said about me. It was incredibly difficult to do because I saw myself in a negative light. With encouragement and friendly firmness Maligay encouraged me to get that list of positives done.

When I thought I was done, she challenged me to draw another column and to add more positive words about myself. It took a very long time for me to do that. Imagine that. I who believe in seeing life with possibility and beauty, could not find many positives attributes about myself . When I had filled out as much as I could, Maligay encouraged me to read it out loud with the words “I am” before each descriptive. There I was, feeling a bit silly but at the same time knowing I was standing on the edge of a big change. So I began:

“I am resilient.”

“I am loving.”

“I am wise.”

“I am resourceful.”

“I have nice eyes.”

“I am the best mum ever.” (Savannah frequently tells me this).

“I am soft.” (Eli’s description of me).

“I am a role model.” (That is how Talisa describes me),

and on and on I went listing off 43 positive aspects.

Maligay added her own descriptions about me which were very touching and it took me by surprise. She encouraged me to speak slowly and to think about each attribute. I can best describe the experience as a computer that had crashed and during this exercise was finally rebooting. Then I was back online. (I know it is strange that I compare this experience to a computer but I worked as an assistive technology advisor so it is still the lens with which I see some aspects of life.)

Last week I wrote about the importance of being mentally and emotionally prepared for back-to-school in the post Back-To-School:How you start is how you finish. I found great value in the exercise that I learnt at the course and introduced a simplified version of it to my children in our back-to-school preparation.

Talisa and Eli struggled to write down positive attributes about themselves. They both said it was easier to write down all the negative beliefs they held. I wonder where they got that from? Unfortunately they got that from me. It was a good lesson in the importance of mirroring self-care and self-love for children. What was even more meaningful is that Savannah was also part of making a list of her positive attributes. I verbally listed many positive words and she chose which attributes best described her. Then I wrote it down for her.

An example of positive personal attributes or character traits for children from http://www.teachingmaddeness.com/

When Talisa and Eli finished their list, they read it aloud with the words “I am” before each description. It was so moving to watch how their faces came to light and their posture changed as they went through the list. Like Maligay taught me to slow down and to be thoughtful about each description, I encouraged Talisa and Eli to do the same. It was a singularly empowering exercise and one that both children found enormous value in.

I realised that no one actively pursues holding onto negative beliefs about themselves. Yet life has a way of subtly bringing those negative beliefs to us as if it would be arrogance to think good of ourselves. Yet imagine going through life facing all those negative beliefs with a repository of positive personal truths to combat it with? It would simply be a Journey With Ourselves.

“As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.” Proverbs 23v7

The pursuit of academics and all it entails must also be a journey of self. Not one that destroys our children or costs them their emotional and mental well-being. Children are children for such a short time in the story of their life. Being self-aware and loving oneself is surely the route to loving others and to creating a fulfilling life.

Some of the coaches who guided the participants.

If you are feeling stuck in your journey, why not book a course with Journey To You. Not only will it free you to be yourself. It will empower you to be the best version of yourself and to mirror that for your family. For more information about the next course, click here.

And finally, I dare you to make a list of all your positive attributes and to say it out aloud. Let me know if you do. Believe me when I say that there is no journey worth taking like a Journey To You.

Thank you again to all the coaches, the participants and Deon Greonewald for this wonderful journey.

A Million Beautiful Pieces January 2, 2019

What You Do Not See In Our Photo Taken On New Years Eve

I share this post with the deepest love for my children, their friends with special needs and the siblings of people with special needs.

It’s not often I write about the challenges that we face as a family with a child with special needs. I prefer not to discuss this so publicly. I know that it is not easy for people living outside of this perspective to fully grasp the love and heartache that co-exists for families like mine.

Yet today I will share this photograph of our fireplace and candles while we waited to usher the New Year in that holds within it more than it shows. It looks warm and cosy. That it was.

Not seen in this photograph was our daughter Savannah who is off camera to the left. She was using her noise cancelling earphones as she tightly crouched on a couch. Curled up in as much as she could make her body curl. Her face was buried in her hands. Her siblings, her dad and I were taking it in turns to hold her. Our neighbourhood erupted in fireworks and boomed their music as the rain poured down until four o’clock in the morning. Even with the noise cancelling earphones everything became too much for Savannah. She was in a panic attack and there was no way for us to stop any of the triggers.

As an autistic person, for Savannah (not all autistic people have the same reactions to the same issues) loud unexpected noises set her heart racing and she falls into a state of panic. She goes into full shutdown and struggles to focus. She needs calm and comfort which after twenty-two years of raising Savannah, we know how to be still and not allow our frustrations to take over. If at all that we even feel that anymore.

It would be easy to say that there are laws in place prohibiting the use of fireworks and that loud music is not allowed after a certain time. However if anything we have learned as a family of a child with special needs is how aggressively most of society feel entitled. It’s such an interesting perspective to parent Savannah. She is actually entitled to so much because of her disability such as a simple matter of being in front when watching a show as she is unable to look over someone’s shoulder. Yet, I still find myself asking people not to stand in front of her wheelchair at events like these.

Or for family and friends who become upset when we don’t visit them or don’t invite them over or can’t attend their event. It is baffling how we are easily cast aside for these reasons because people assume that my life is about them. Travelling with a person in a wheelchair means having enough space for three children in the back seat plus a wheelchair in the boot. We drive a sedan. We can likely carry one small bag which is usually Savannah’s bag of extras. Once that is loaded into the boot, there is nothing else we can pack in. So travelling too far is not an option and Savannah cannot sit upright in a car for too long. Hence we limit our travels to what is comfortable for the whole family. I will not even mention the costs of being a family with someone with special needs.

We invite people over who will not mind getting their own coffee or taking a turn to sit with Savannah if she needs company. I can’t have people over who require formal entertaining and also don’t know when to leave. I am sorry about that. It does not mean that I do not like them as people. In most cases I really do enjoy their company, but the manner in which they define entertaining is not one that will work for me. So in that case, we will likely meet somewhere for coffee for an hour or two.

I am trying to make a living. Now I do that by writing and it is not easy. In addition I work from home which has been my daughter Savannah’s domain as she spends the most time in the house than the rest of the family. It is not easy negotiating emotional and mental space with an adult autistic person who also has a physical disability. I spend much of my daily energy helping Savannah to navigate the world from her unique perspective which often I fall short to understand because I just do not experience life the same way that she does. I also take care of her physical needs like bathing and serving her meals to her. When she is in a meltdown state, she will not eat and then I will feed her.

The world is full of people who have a right to enjoy life because they worked for this right. I do not take anything away from that. Yet true living isn’t made up off what rights we exercise. It is made up of what rights we gave up so that someone who cannot survive in this world alone, may at the very least live a life without further challenges caused by those who have the understanding to know better. For this reason our December was epic. We celebrated the season with amazing people who know that being our friend will be different. Very different but still full of merriment. Ours is the home where there is always a party happening and people connecting while Savannah’s needs are respected. For my friends and family who make that happen, we love you.

So what happened to Savannah as New Year’s erupted around us? Well, the most painful truths are not lost on my other children. As we attempted to usher in the New Year in prayer, Talisa held her sister. When we were finished she played Savannah’s favourite Bollywood songs as loud as possible. Both her and Eli tried their best to distract Savannah with amusing antics. Talisa offered to stay up with Savannah so that Michael and I could go to bed. I thought I did not ask for this nor did Michael, nor did Talisa or Eli; yet here we are. A family who understand what is really important in life. Sitting in front of a fireplace with warmth that no fire could have provided. That was nothing to be sad about. It was something to be grateful for.

I thought about the hundreds of families I know, who at that same time were either holding down their loved ones as they agonised against the loud sounds or fought to break through doors in an attempt to find a safe space or created their own louder sounds to drown out the external noise or lay still after seizures racked their minds and bodies. I thought about the depths of love and heartache we live with and yet the next day our social media posts will only reflect one part of this story.

My posts will never show what challenges we face as Savannah’s family. She does not have seizures or big outbursts that may cause harm to other people. No, our daughter harms herself. In addition due to her physical disability, tension causes her muscles to go into spasm which means that for a day or two, she may not be able to leave her bed without significant help from us. We will never disclose anything that leaves our daughter exposed to a society that seem to know much about life, but so little about living it; so that is the most you will get from me.

I will not share the tough stuff in videos or photographs about our behind the scenes because Savannah cannot exercise her right to privacy and I am the custodian of that. Sharing emotive images will certainly launch my social media profile into a whole new level by telling the story of how disability breaks me wide open and leaves me reeling. That may very well be my right to speak my truth and share my pain. Yet, as I write this and watch my daughter sleep, I know that my rights are forfeit if it causes her harm. Even if she doesn’t know that harm is being done to her. She is unable to protect herself on the internet or tell her side of the story. While she may never know; as human beings our family will enforce every right and carry through every responsibility to protect her rights.

I know this is hard to read, but this is for all those families who are recovering from the New Year celebrations that they were not a part off in the traditional sense. For them and myself I ask this:

Do not speak to us about rights and what people are entitled too.
Do not boast about the one or two times a sacrifice was made to give someone who is vulnerable a better experience.

Simply do this instead:

Live with a consciousness of journeying through this world together. Even if you have to slow your pace to accommodate someone else.
Just as all parents do not want their children to be harmed; please remember that for some of us, our children are children forever. Parents of typically developing children are unlikely to be holding an adult while they are in a full-blown panic attack. So be kind when we leave an event or ask for the noise to be lowered.
Give someone the benefit of the doubt.
Travel light without all the hangups of who did not show up for you.
People need people. Not things.
Forgive and then forgive again. I get to practice this one often.

To all our co-families of children with special needs:
You Rock.

Here is my disclaimer: I asked Talisa to read this post before I published it and I asked her if it was too jarring. She said “Mum, anything we write or say about this will be jarring and people may find it harsh because they just do not get it. But it needs to be out there. In our family we have the space to talk about this but there are so many families who can’t. Publish it.”.

There are many support organisations for people with special needs. I have listed three here. You are welcome to add the links to more organisations in the comments below.

Autism; South Africa

South African Disability Alliance

Down Syndrome South Africa

My Inspiration November 27, 2018

My Inspiration: There is ALWAYS Time to Dance

Today Savannah is reminiscing about the wedding last year when I was the MC and I danced a special dance.

Now that I work from home, it is a mixed blessing.

My children and my husband love having me around and I find we are using our time more productively. I wake up everyday excited to meet the day. I can’t remember ever feeling like this in my whole life.

For those families who have a child with a disability, you will know why this dynamic is precious. My daughter Savannah is witty and funny and kind and thoughtful. She is also different in her way of thinking and feeling.
She is my ever-long learning course. Teaching me all that I don’t know and often after working hard at understanding her point of view, I come back to the realisation that I just can’t reach all the depths that her mind wanders too. As an autistic person, she sees life in a way that I work very hard to understand; only to find that I fail.

So often I fail. My struggle to keep up with the “normal” world collides with trying to grasp her view; and I become frustrated, and angry at myself. At her. At this life and it’s persistent demands. Yet, I have to live in both worlds. I have to try so hard to keep up with life so that I can be part of it’s rat race and try to earn a living to provide for all our children.

Governing all that we do, like so many families like us, is that we must try very hard to earn more than a living.
We must provide for Savannah long after we are gone. And that is what keeps me awake till the early hours or gets me out of bed long before the sun rises. Working from home while also being a caregiver, a companion and all that encompasses being Savannah’s mother, is my “more than a conqueror” daily challenge.

If I could stay at my desk all day, I would not eat or drink because truly writing feeds me like nothing else does. But my reverie is broken every time when Savannah calls me. Sometimes what she needs is reasonable and makes sense that she called me. Other times, she calls me to tell me something so far off base from the moment that we are in, that I throw my hands up in the air and proclaim out loud that I don’t need to know the tit bit of information that she is supplying. She doesn’t grasp that I can’t know what goes on on her head and so we tussle with memories until I either get what she is on about or I give up and walk away.

For example, a month ago she suddenly jolted to March 2014 and for several days, she recounted everything she remembered about that time. Everything. Details like what earrings I wore and who we saw. People who I have long forgotten. She remembered their earrings, their watches and who said what, when and where. As I fight back the urge to weep for what feels like the hundredth time that she calls me to say something that I cannot see the relevance in; I ask myself if anyone else lives in so many spaces all at once? And if so do they survive themselves?

Right now, I am in the middle of writing about Domestic Abuse for the UNWomen’s Campaign and it takes me back to times in my life that I have closed the door on. Yet, now at forty, the shock of what I was allowed to be privy too as a child, washes me afresh. I have several other writing projects underway and a new client who I have to do some research for. So my mind is a little more than preoccupied on a daily basis.

Then Savannah calls. Again. Not being sure if she needs physical assistance or if it is just another newsflash from the past; I walk to where she is because that’s my life.

Looking back over the years, I’m most in awe that while I was trying to glue my heart back together as a teenager who learnt too much about the hypocrisy of the adults around her, I somehow kept my sanity as I became Savannah’s mother. Over these twenty-two years I’ve listened to the same story that my heart didn’t have the words to utter when Savannah was little. Parents grappling with the heartbreak of the unknown as their child begins life in a world designed to set itself against them. The most competent of people, crumble as they understand the force that will be required to help their children live their best lives.

Each time, I’m stunned anew that a girl like me became Savannah’s mum. What was God thinking to trust me with her? It has never been easy. There are days when I wish I did not know of the things I have to know. But I survived and I have learnt how to thrive right where I am. Having Savannah at eighteen was probably the worst thing to happen in a life already falling to pieces. Yet years later I understood that being Savannah’s mother saved my life. Who knows what I would have become, had I not have to fight for her in all the ways imaginable and unimaginable? Would I have known how to fight for myself or for that matter would I have known that I could change the course of my life?

Even now as I try to juggle housekeeping, children, writing, keeping up with everything, Savannah calls. She is now remembering December 2017. She wants to play the song I performed at my cousins wedding. I’m not in the mood for this and I grumble something to that effect.

As I walk away from her with the clock ticking and the checklist running in my head of all that I have to get done today, I hear her say: “Pretty mum the wedding. My mum good dancer. Well done.”

Savannah and I decked out at a wedding last year.

I can’t help looking back at her as she gives me a big grin. Maybe I am wrong again. I don’t think I am looking after her at all. I think she is looking after me. Drawing me away from the square boxes everyone is fighting to fit themselves into.

If you have heard me speak you will know that one of my key points is that there aren’t answers to everything that life throws our way. For those moments, there is always dance.

And so as Savannah played the song “Tere Bina” from the Bollywood movie Guru for the umpteenth time this morning, I took my own advice; and I danced. She clapped and squealed and made her happy sounds.

No one ever tells us that the lines of our broken hearts, make for the most polished dance floors. Or that dance is meaningless unless someone gives you a beat to dance to.

Disability Advocacy November 20, 2018

Parenting: Being Courageous even in Uncertainty

This past weekend we attended our friends sons’ birthday party where they had an amazing Wild Animals Educational show. My daughter, Savannah and the birthday boy, Kurt have been friends since they were little children. We have attended a few parties at his home and Maggie, Kurt’s mum throws the best birthday parties for him. When I told Savannah that we would be attending the party, she immediately inquired if there would be animals. She remembered that Maggie usually has an animal show for Kurt’s parties. This made Savannah a bit anxious because unlike Kurt, she does not like animals very much. The only animals she loves are our two Labradors.

Yes, that is a Tarantula on my hand. And yes, it is alive!

As a person with special needs, Savannah requires a fair amount of support in some situations and this time was no different. We had to make sure that she was emotionally and mentally prepared before the party to cope with her anxiety and concerns. One way of doing this was to reassure her that there would be no pressure on her to engage with the animals. We discussed with her that her daddy would sit with her as far away as possible from where the animals would be. She was happy with this arrangement and began looking forward to the party.

On the day of the party, Savannah did not back out from joining us as she usually does and was excited and happy to attend. Kurt, Maggie, her family and friends are some of the nicest people we know and Michael and I were looking forward to being in their company. As expected the party was relaxed and easy for Savannah. She was also very happy to see Kurt. Before the animals arrived, she repeatedly confirmed with Michael that as agreed, he would sit with her away from the animals.

Julian from the WILD ONES Educational Show arrived in his bakkie (South African word for a small pick-up vehicle) full of cages and containers. We watched Julian set up, and Michael and I with some trepidation watched Savannah, watching Julian set up. A few years ago at Kurt’s party, Savannah clung to me for the duration of the party and was miserable and cross because she was so mortified by the animals.

As an autistic person, Savannah’s perception of some situations is different. What might feel fun and exciting to us can be uncomfortable and frightening for Savannah. In order for the whole family to enjoy life together, Michael and I had to make peace with the fact that Savannah will always require some level of support in many situations. Fear is a debilitating emotion and we know that Savannah’s fears are real enough for her, and therefore warrants our respect and patience.

That was the mindset that we had at the party but to our surprise and delight, Savannah decided to join everyone in the area of the garden where the animal show was going to take place. Julian kicked off the show by introducing us to a tarantula. Yikes! I know. I never thought I would hold a spider nor one as scary as a tarantula. But Savannah was watching Michael and I with keen caution, and so I held out my hand and took the spider. Then I held a bearded dragon and a barn owl and the list goes on.

Eli let a Corn Snake coil around him as Savannah watched in amazement.

Then he coaxed her into touching a bunny which we named Peter Rabbit for her benefit. That was one of her favourite childhood books.

Michael who is by no means an animal lover delighted her by holding a tarantula and whistled to a Cockatiel, coaxing it away from my shoulder to his shoulder.

I struggled to fight back the tears when we met the barn owl. Some years back she was caught in a trap and had lost one leg. So she cannot fly and is fully dependent on Julian for her food. As a mother to a daughter who uses a wheelchair and a sister to a brother who is an amputee; that little owl represented the vulnerability and the tenacity that I saw in my daughter, in my brother and in Kurt. More than that, Julian’s care and commitment to this sweet bird spoke volumes about something all of us at the party understand but rarely see outside of our lives as families of people with disabilities.

That is the act of simply caring for one another. Not based on what we will gain or what we will lose, but only for the reason that we are human and we have compassion.

Often people look at Savannah or Kurt and they feel pity. Understandably so because they see themselves as having more abilities than our children do. Often we as families are judged from their limited viewpoint about what we are doing and what we are not doing for all our children. Here’s the thing though: We are here caring until forever. We are constantly finding delight in life no matter what fears and unknowns and awkwardness and frustrations we face. So the pity we get is actually misguided. It belongs to the rest of the world. While our lives take us to difficult places in our hearts:

we know what “unconditional” means.
we know what depths of love and care truly exists in the human spirit, and
we know just how shallow so many lives are because they have not yet learned to give without counting the loss or the gain.

We knew from the beginning that parenting would be a daily exercise of giving of ourselves. It would be letting go of fears and showing up for our children no matter how we were feeling.

What we learnt was that parenting a child who has special needs is sometimes about giving all of yourself. It is about conquering those fears every moment of every day and learning to live with passion and joy knowing full well that your worst fears for your child can become your reality.

We do not know when Savannah will be keen to attend another event so we soaked up the afternoon with Kurt, his family and those glorious animals. We were carefree and delighted as we held tarantulas and snakes. Now that is a great paradox for the life we live, isn’t it?

Being courageous even when our hearts are uncertain.

A very special “Thank You” to Kurt, Maggie, Kevin (Kurt’s dad), Gabriella (Kurt’s sister) and their extended family for being one of the bravest, nicest people we know.

SA Mommy Blogger Awards 2017 September 27, 2018

SA MOMMY Blogger Awards: Best Writer 2017 was Chevs Life

In March this year I was chosen as the Most Inspirational Blogger in the SA Mommy Blogger Awards. It was my goal to pay tribute to the other category winners. This year has taken a somewhat winding path, and I did not complete that goal. I intend to do that whenever I can by sharing a post each week about the winning bloggers. They are each talented and delightful in their own way, and together these bloggers give us readers a wonderful view into lives and topics we would know nothing about.

Today’s featured blogger is Chevone Petersen of www.chevslife.com. I was excited to learn that Chevone and I have a few things in common: we both love writing, we are part of the autism community and we are passionate about parent empowerment.

Chevone’s winning blog posts were:

The Last Boy on the https://chevslife.com/2017/08/16/last-boy-train/ ;

and

She Got Her Wings https://chevslife.com/2017/01/12/she-got-her-wings/.

Get a coffee and doughnut then click on over to Chevone’s blog and have a look around. Her writing draws you in and makes you feel that you never want the story to end.

Chevone, thank you for Unmasking Your Journey to Optimism.

Happy Friday Everyone