Some days.

Some days it all feels too much.

Just had the most bullish, uninformed, insulting and deceitful encounter with a social worker. She reduced me to tears and poor Grace who could see the 40 minute phone conversation escalating kindly went upstairs to distract Dylan so he didn’t have to hear me talking about him.

She made me cry, on the phone, both with sadness and fury in a way which even now recounting it has made my eyes sting and my throat tighten.

The biggest fight is not with autism but with uncaring power-hungry professionals who are embroiled in a nasty system of beating you down until they pretend to be able to offer assistance.

She lied. She said that I need to appear depressed, I need to cry and tell her I cannot cope before she will complete her paperwork. She told me that I have a parental responsibility to pay for Dylans extra requirements due to his autism and I can’t expect the council to help.

During the conversation she said that she would come and visit. She was assess Dylan. After all, she should meet Dylan. I told her she had, back in August. She said she didn’t remember and I need to provide more info for her report. I need to give them further breakdowns of finances and list Dylan’s needs, not just those already documented on previous reports. But more. more. more.

I snapped and told her to shove it.

Through sobs I told her she was the only element of my life that makes me feel depressed, or cry. She works for a system which is selfulfilling and destructive to the tranquillity of our family who pull together to make our lives work.

The whole phone call was about her needs, her report, what she or her panel needs. I told her in no uncertain terms my priorities: Dylan. My family. Keeping things going.

And that her and her requirements were not helping. Not only do I not want an increase of support I would rather withdraw from any support. To lose payments would be easier than trying to jump through their many hoops but that’s Dylan’s payments and the only way he can access some life outside of home.

I gave it to her both barrels.

Came off the phone and sobbed. Nothing resolved, only frustration.

So now I’ve taken the kids out. I can’t cry in public so I decided that being outdoors is best. Dylan’s having his iPad screen fixed so we’ve nipped over to Costa for some overpriced lunch.

This is what really matters.

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