Revelations of a Slummy Mummy

When you have a significantly disabled child who isn't a wheelchair user, and who looks 'normal,' you step into a whole new realm of ignorance and intolerance. Basically, people can be judgmental arseholes. But we all knew that already right? Weight, parenting techniques, drinking habits, diet, haircuts, music taste, political preference.. you name it, people have probably judged it. The thing is, when it's aimed at a kid who is usually pretty vulnerable, and often can't speak out for themselves in the same way as an adult, it crosses a line. I've heard countless friends from the disability community recount times where they were judged for the behaviour of their children, often loudly, in public and without boundary. These are some of those genuine gems: 'Did you know before he was born he was going to be like that? Why did you carry on with the pregnancy? It would have been fairer on everyone if he wasn't born, don't you think?' *mid-melt...

Yesterday was World Mental Health Awareness Day. I know there seems to be an awareness day for something pretty much every day of the year these days- my favourite being National Dogs in Politics Day, September 23rd if anyone's interested- but mental health is a topic that has influenced the very core of my being.... and so I couldn't let the day pass without adding my voice to the growing song of wellbeing, a song whose music is sometimes uncomfortable, often chaotic, but always achingly raw and honestly real. My first thought was to write about my Mum; she was plagued with various mental health issues for most of her fleeting existence. St Ann's, the local psychiatric hospital, featured regularly in my every day as a child and even now, as an adult, just thinking about it sends a cold jolt of adrenaline through me. Everything about it was scary as hell; it seemed alive, the looming stone walls hiding the secret of a swallowed section of society. But a story is always ...