My attempts to advocate for Primo at his school have reached a pitch impossible to sustain. I have made some great gains, but they have been imposed on the school by external pressure rather than achieved co-operatively.
There has, accordingly been a backlash. And in the nature of furtive wars that are fought through coded actions just inside the bounds of the acceptable, I've been pelted with intangible, indefinable retributions.
Well, I have cracked. Or maybe the existing cracks just got bigger.
In an attempt to drag myself back into an upright position, I've tried today to talk to people who understand. How I salute the women who work in positions of support and advocacy who listen, and who tell you important things. What I always want is to know whether I have gone so far out on a limb that I really have turned into the gibbering crazywoman, that the school reflects back at me.
Today I found out just how mundane my woes are in the world of disability support. Thank you to the woman who let me know how much I have in common with so many other families, how many people despair at not being believed, how some resort to recording those awful scenes where their child falls apart to "prove" to their child's educators that they are not flagrant liars. Last week, when Primo melted down with an intensity we have not seen since before he started school, I thought bitterly about how the teachers who claim he's fine (and I'm an idiot) wouldn't even believe me if I told them about it. How much further down that road some people have been pushed.
So guess what; I'm not alone! I'm one of many parents who are greeted with out and out disbelief when I explain how my child's needs are not being met. I am experiencing utterly predictable misery caused by run-of-the-mill provocations! Hip hip hooray!
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