Tag Archives: Living Opportunities

Transition Check-In: The Three

It hit me today that I have reached the point where I don’t always know where Nigel is – and I’m okay with that. He is in a supported living program. He’s not in college or driving. But he turns 21 in two months, and he is a walking, talking special needs success story.

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It was fourteen months ago, with no small amount of trepidation on my part and his, that Nigel was given the key to his own apartment. In his words, he has “learned a lot” since then and wisely remarks that he is still learning. He is semi-independent, receiving daily support from Living Opportunities, a local organization that provides support for adults with developmental disabilities. They check in to make sure he is taking his meds, take him grocery shopping, help with doing laundry, keep track of medical appointments and provide transportation to them, among other things. I pay his bills out of his Social Security income and obtain and fill out all paperwork associated with his various benefits. I probably do a lot more I’m not even thinking of at the present moment.

It should be noted that no success of his came via luck. It involved tenacity, determination, and years of all kinds of therapy for a five-year-old who, when asked by a doctor, could not say his own name. Whose severe sensory issues precluded going to the grocery store and any other public place because this was a time when no one thought to suggest wearing noise-cancelling headphones. Instead, he shrieked and bolted. The list of his challenges, past and present, is long.

But now the guy safely rides his bike everywhere, up to twenty miles away and back. He handles its maintenance himself. He pushed his bike with its bike trailer attached all the way up a 3600-foot mountain because he was training to climb a 9500-foot one. (And with the accompaniment of my amazing, wildland firefighter sister, he succeeded.)

He takes good care of his cat. He likes to vacuum (read here why this is huge). He refers to his autism as his “difference,” and he has begun to ask me for dating advice and ways to meet “young ladies” who would understand and accept him.

Most importantly, he comes and goes as he pleases. Yes, you read that correctly. He comes and goes as he pleases, and I feel okay about that. I’m no longer frantic at the thought of him out alone in the community. Yes, sometimes I worry – he is vulnerable socially (being taken advantage of) and physically (bike riding in a city – or on a mountain). But from his own apartment he comes and goes as he pleases and I’m not wringing my hands all day long.

I don’t know which is more significant.

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He calls them “The Three” – his wallet, keys, and phone. He got tired of hearing me list all three items individually, having to say Yes, yes, yes to each separate inquiry, and he came up with a collective term. So now when I pick him up to come and spend the night at the house or to leave for some other activity, as we head for the door I ask, “Do you have The Three?” And he says Yes, only once, and then we go about the rest of our day, truly blessed, well aware of what The Three symbolize for both of us.

Transition Check-In: The Keys to Supported Independence

If I had written this post just one week ago, it would have been titled “Transition Check-In: The Waiting Game,” because that’s where we were, where we have been, where we thought we would be for at least year two years, waiting for Nigel’s HUD to go into effect. I thought we would have to wait for that to happen before we could set him up in his own apartment with support from Living Opportunities, a local nonprofit organization that helps adults with developmental disabilities to live their lives as independently as possible, while offering assistance in any form that is needed. They have already begun to provide services for Nigel while he is still living in my home, taking him to appointments, helping him to organize his living space and his time. They are very professional and specially trained to handle various needs, personalities, and preferences. They focus on presuming competence and facilitating independence. In fact, they even provide services for a few people who do not communicate with speech, but with supports in place are able to be in their own apartments. Without this support they would undoubtedly be placed in group homes, sharing a small room with another adult. It’s amazing and wonderful what Living Opportunities does. We are so blessed to have this organization in our area.

Last summer, when I moved Nigel back from the group home, I was advised to apply and get him on the waiting list for HUD, which I did. I didn’t realize that in doing so, he would also be on the waiting list for several apartment complexes in our area that offer certain units for low-income tenants who are waiting for their HUD approval. A couple of weeks ago, I received a letter in the mail that one of these units was available.

I called the Housing Authority office to let them know that we were interested, and they said that they had sent that letter out to about 20 people. With Nigel, I drove by the place anyway, just to see what the complex looked like. It was new, quiet, and definitely not Crackville. Nigel agreed that it looked like a nice place to live. Unfortunately I had a very busy week and was only able to call about the apartment the day before the end date for applications, so I figured the apartment would go to someone else, and we would wait for another one of these apartments to become available.

But a week later, the Housing Authority office called me. They said that Nigel was next in line. I asked if that meant there was one person ahead of him and they said, No, he’s it. He’s the next one eligible to apply if he still wants to. And the very next day we went down to that office and filled out the application with me as the co-signer.

Four days later, they called and said the apartment was his! We are going in next Monday to sign the lease and get the keys, the keys to Nigel’s autonomy that he needs and so rightly deserves. The keys to the space for his massive Lego collection, the privacy to act out (in costume) scenes from his favorite movies, and the satisfaction of not having his mother telling him when to shower or take his meds (the support providers will do that when they check in on him every day). (!!!!) And these same keys are also the keys to my relief, to being able to focus on Aidan’s last year of high school next year, and to regaining my sense of self that has been shelved for so long I don’t even know what that self was. These are the keys to rediscovering her.

It’s another big step, probably the biggest, in Nigel’s journey to and through adulthood, a journey to which I have devoted much time and energy. He will have all the support he needs through Living Opportunities, he will spend time with family members at least twice a week, and I am always a text or call away.

Moving Day is in three weeks, when the rubber really does meet the road. It’s the start of something that I would have thought impossible just a few short years ago. But if I look at his trajectory, the journey we’ve been on to get here, every challenge he’s faced or taken on, I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the boy who, at the age of five, could not say his name when a doctor asked. This is the boy who could not go into stores, movie theaters, and restaurants because his sensory issues overwhelmed him. This is the teen who needed a modified diploma because, although he understood the material, he could not handle the volume of work.

But he made it through high school, and he walked across the stage to receive that diploma while his classmates cheered. He was voted “Most Likely to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse” by his senior class. He spent time getting to know a girl and he asked her to prom and she said yes.

When he said, two weeks ago, I don’t think I’m ready for this, I told him, “You can do this, Nigel.” And with the supports in place, I know he will.

 

Image courtesy of Wikipedia