I try not to write my blogs when I feel let down or hurt. But I am today because I need to feel a sense of catharsis.

Today I spent the morning on the phone. Not an unusual occurrence. I sat in a train station car park and spoke to two on call members of staff for two different professional support teams. And the whole time I spoke to them I felt as though I was on trial. Don’t get me wrong, they were both lovely. They listened and asked relevant questions. But I had one shot. Just one shot to convince these people who had never met me, had never met kiddo and had never witnessed my daily challenges that I deserved their time, their services and above all, their budget. It was really stressful.

No matter how lovely they were, it was their job to pass judgement on me and decide the future course of action. These two original phone calls then of course snowballed into various other professionals phoning me throughout the day. Already exhausted from explaining my situation once, I explained it again. And again. And again. I heard the following sentences from professionals today:

“Well why aren’t social care supporting you?”

“Why are no other professionals working with your family?”

“Why did you pay for stair gates privately? Why didn’t we fund them?” (Excellent question. Why the hell am I expected to answer that??)

“Having stair gates all over the house is a deformation of kiddos liberty and dignity. But that’s a conversation for another time.” (He’s already hospitalised himself once because we couldn’t keep him safe).

All these questions chip away at you. They hurt your feelings and your confidence. They suck what little energy you have left to fight for your child out of your soul until it is entirely diminished. And why do we as parent carers go through this hideous ceremony of begging for help on a semi regular basis? To convince them. To prove our need to them. To show them that this time we really do need help.

Help us. Please? What will it take to convince you I’m genuine? What will it take to convince you that our situation really is that bad? What can I do to prove I’m not being over dramatic? The answer is very little. I can talk and cry until I can breathe no more. But unless you witness those moments yourself, those crucial moments which inevitably happen when you’re not around, you will go on hearing the soap style storylines that fill my daily life. And you will have to decide if they are real and worthy enough for my family to be helped.

Thanks for reading,

Danielle