I got off of the bus one afternoon during my middle school years to see an elaborately decorated yellow car sitting in my driveway. I wasn't too surprised by the fact that there was a different car sitting in our driveway given that my mom had been running her own business from our basement since I was 6 years old. What did surprise me were the decorations and graphics displayed on the car as if it had been pulled right from the movie Daddy Daycare. I quietly entered the house, skipping the normal race down the stairs to say good afternoon to my mother, where she usually asked me how my day was. I knew she was in a meeting.
Instead of interrupting my mother's meeting, I took my shoes off, hung up my backpack and made my way to the toy room. The toy room was the hub for all toys, games, and a mini television that my brother and I used often. The end of the day was always used to decompress. As I entered the toy room, there sat a grown man right in the middle of the room playing with my brothers hot wheel cars. To say I was shocked, was an understatement. Who was this man and why was he sitting in my playroom playing with my toys? I left the room immediately to yell down the stairs to my mother, knowing that she would probably have an explanation for what I had seen. It turns out, the client my mother was working with ran an Adult Training Facility for adults who had Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities. The owner just so happened to have a brother who had Down syndrome. While I was only in middle school, I was well aware of what Down Syndrome was. I grew up going to a daycare where my brother's best friend had a sister with Down syndrome: Dayna. I had also gone to grade school with a girl who had Down syndrome as well: Tanya.
When I entered high school, it was required that I complete at least 20 hours of community service per year. Given that I had a disability myself and I had an interest in working with individuals who had disabilities, I filled out the paperwork and got all the medical testing and immunizations done so that I could begin volunteering at Sunny Days Adult Daily Living Center. Unfortunately, by the time I began volunteering at Sunny Days, Terry, the man with Down syndrome who sat in the middle of my toy room had passed away. The first day that I spent at Sunny Days, I fell in love. The staff were friendly, the people were amazing, and they had two cats. What more could I ask for.
When I turned eighteen, I landed my self a part-time job at Sunny Days. I began working 25 hours a week over the course of 5 days. Shortly after starting, we realized that 25 hours was too much. It would be extremely beneficial for me to work Monday-Thursday and taken Friday off. This ended up working great, but it brought up the question of what I would be capable of managing in the future. Would I be capable of managing and house and a full-time job? We didn't know.
Once I began college, I was able to manage a full load of classes with no problem. That being said, I had down time between classes and I had the flexibility to take naps in the afternoon or stay up late at night to study. A year and a half into my college career, I was accepted into the Occupational Therapy program. The first two semester of the program weren't bad. The third semester hit and everything went to hell in a hand basket. My parents and I began questioning my ability to function in the world again. I did great in class and on tests, but group project and application of what I learned was a nightmare. Would I be able to hand the go, go, go of a typical job? In the end we determined that I would leave the Occupational Therapy program and earn my Bachelor's in Applied Technology. This would only require one extra semester of courses and I'd be out of there.
Fast forward to today. I'm currently working full-time, going to Grad School part-time, taking piano lessons, I have joined a Life Group, and I'm working on my BCBA supervision hours. There have been so many times that we didn't know I'd be able to do something. When I was young, my parents didn't know if I would ever live on my own. The future didn't look very bright. An Autism diagnosis landed me in a category with an 80% unemployment rate. What would my social and communication skills affect on the job? Right now, I am in my third year of full-time employment. I have my struggles, but I have so many positives to look at. The very fact that I have managed full-time employment for three years is absolutely beautiful. This summer I plan on working 2 part-time jobs, and continuing my journey through a Master's program. I will go, and I will not stop. I can do it!! There are statistics that tell me I can't, but those statistics are just numbers. The determination I have and the places I've gone, show me that numbers are faulty. Only God knows where I will go. The sky is the limit!!!
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