Next Time Someone Says People On Welfare Are Lazy Or Taking Advantage, Show Them THIS.
Recently a Reddit user asked people “What is an experience or achievement that you wish you could brag about, but can’t because either you don’t know anyone who would appreciate it, or it reveals a secret interest?”
One user by the name of semiloki, shared his experience (as well as achievement) as a father caring for their autistic young daughter. The hardships he endured and how he managed to keep his family together is truly inspiring. Here is his story:
Source can be found at the end of the article.
“I have an autistic daughter. Receiving her diagnosis was one of the most gut wrenching things I have ever been through. We took her in for an evaluation as she wasn’t talking and she was getting close to 3 years old. This place examined her, called us in for the results, said “she’s autistic. Probably middle of the spectrum. She may never talk or be able to live independently. Any questions?”
I couldn’t articulate a question even if I had one. The news was just delivered to me so bluntly that hours later I still couldn’t breathe.
Worse yet, only a few days prior to receiving this diagnosis someone had called Child Protective Services on us. They reported that she was non-verbal, showed signs of abuse, and had appeared with bruises and black eyes on multiple occasions.
She did have a black eye, incidentally. She was running through the house, tripped, and hit her eye on the arm of a chair.
We had to give the ER report to the CPS. I’m not sure they would have believed us even then if they hadn’t secretly dragged my son (the elder sibling) out of class and interrogated him about her black eye before ever contacting us.
Did you know in some states CPS don’t need the parent’s permission to interview children?
Anyway, my point is that other than the normal bumps and bruises you expect from a child her age, this was the only real injury she ever came in with. I nearly had my child taken away from me because she was autistic and some day care worker fabricated details for a better story.
Luckily, the owner of the daycare center spoke up for us and told the CPS that the injuries that had been reported hadn’t happened and that he had seen nothing to make him suspect abuse.
At this same time I was working the most miserable job imaginable. The job itself was a contract position (a well paying contract position, granted, but still a contract position) and it was as if the people in charge were actively doing everything they could to sabotage the contract. I knew the job wasn’t going to last. My boss was trying to make me quit (she got promoted after I got hired. I took over the position that had been occupied by her best friend after her best friend got fired. So she sort of blamed me . . . and also flat out stated that men were responsible for every bad thing that had happened to her in her life so, yeah, she did not like anyone with a Y chromosome.)
Even though we really couldn’t take the hit financially speaking, we knew that if we kept going the way we were someone would eventually get tired of my daughter’s quirks and call CPS on us again. They believed us once. But a second time? What then?
My wife’s job was stable. Mine was going down in flames. One of us had to quit to devote ourselves full time to trying to help our daughter. I stepped up.
For two years I taxied her around town to therapy session after therapy session. Speech therapy. Vocational therapy. Behavior therapy. Vision therapy. Even music therapy, believe it or not.
Hundreds of sleepless nights as she ran around until the wee hours of the morning refusing to go to bed. Only to exhaust herself at 3 AM and, finally, I could sleep. Hundreds of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Hundreds of hours of sitting around and talking and playing with her to get through this wall of frustration.
And then it happened. The nonsense babble began to form words. They were difficult to recognize at first, but they were words.
She opened up more and more. She pushed herself harder to try to make her therapists and me happy.
I couldn’t really hold down a job during that time. Not and meet all the obligations I had to meet for her. So, I filed for unemployment. I listed the reason I left was that it was a hostile work environment. My former employer challenged it. I gave them the phone number to my former boss. They called her and they agreed it was a hostile work environment. I was approved.
So, for as long as I could, I drew unemployment. I reported in as often as they told me to. I listened to their lectures and filled out their forms. I then went back home and tried to hold things together.
I jumped through hoops to get government assistance. They lost forms, found them, approved us and denied us in the same letters, and came up with an endless list of excuses why they were missing information. Lots of red tape and bureaucratic incompetence. Fortunately, stay at home parent man was on the job and I had more time available than they could waste.
We were eventually approved.
When my unemployment ran out I got a night shift part time job just to make ends meet. Except they didn’t. I wasn’t making enough money. We were going broke slower was all. Still I did everything I could to get her into the right programs and right treatments.
She’s in a special education class now for autistic children. She’s also their star student. She’s the only one who is being mainstreamed in regular classes. The others they don’t know if they’ll ever be out of a special education environment. But my daughter? Oh they praise this amazing little “high functioning” child.
I did eventually go back to work full time, by the way. I work longer hours than ever and get paid far less than before. I’ve had a major setback in my career because of this. I gave up a lot for my daughter and, yes, it was worth every moment of it.
So, to all those people on my Facebook feed who post their little rants about how everyone who collects welfare and unemployment are just lazy, good for nothings and just want to suck money off the hard workers out there . . . SCREW THE LOT OF YOU! Try talking about something you know jack s*** about. The silence would be refreshing!”