Full disclosure: weekends aren't good for me right now.
Please stop sharing hopeful but unfounded information. As it stands today, I've seen no evidence that kids will go back to school in September. We certainly won't be gathering this summer. I'd be happy to be proven wrong -- before copying and pasting, include your sources.
All you are doing is giving the hordes of uneducated, selfish people out there a reason to give us the collective middle finger somewhere down the road and refuse to quarantine, since we just keep moving the goalposts.
Don't be part of this problem. Please.
UPDATE:
And just in case you're reading this, thinking, "Boy, he needs some perspective," I assure you, I have it.
I am not worried about my family; not too much, anyway. I'm lucky -- well, in many ways -- that my children were born without complications, and probably have close as good a chance as I do of beating COVID-19, should they contract it.
No, it's the vulnerable people in my community that I'm very worried for. Thanks to the organic nature of my volunteering, a few years back, I can now bring a dozen lovely faces to mind in the blink of an eye who are very vulnerable indeed; either because they're much older, have been diagnosed with COPD or similar, or are severely disabled and vulnerable to even the common varieties of respiratory illnesses, let alone COVID.
Unfortunately, some of those faces I've just brought to mind won't make it to the end of this year. I know this. It's simple maths: they will contract COVID, and they will succumb. I'm trying to prepare myself for this as best I can. What is completely avoidable, and would be horrifically tragic, is if they all died. This year. And that too is a very real possibility. If the curve doesn't flatten and stay there, we'll eventually get to herd immunity numbers, and that will mean, barring a miracle, that every single one of those faces I can bring to mind will contract COVID-19, with a sadly predictable outcome.
That is what I'm trying to avoid, with what little power my voice and this platform provide. And, believe me, it is based in pragmatism, and the horrible knowledge of just how little some people will change their behaviour, even were I to say all this from knees, in front of them.
Showing posts with label charity work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label charity work. Show all posts
Monday, April 06, 2020
Tuesday, August 08, 2017
Feeling good
I'm starting to feel good again. For long stretches.
I haven't felt the need to take any Amitriptyline in a long time. (I was prescribed a low dose for anxiety back in April, and I honestly don't know what I would've done without it.) I have been a bit anxious at times recently, but knowing it's there has been enough to see me through.
My mom's visiting. Nothing phases her. (She'd probably laugh to read that.) That wasn't always the case, believe me. I don't know when that started to change, but I actually found it upsetting, initially. I would find myself goading her, trying to get a reaction. Psychotherapy helped me reframe that. Now I just ask more and more pointed questions. She'll probably tell me to piss off at some point, but, in the meantime, it's, well, very liberating, frankly.
I've been lucky enough to get a large chunk of psychotherapy sessions through the NHS. If I'm honest, I was more than a bit skeptical at the outset. But I gave it my best shot. Where I'd sunk to... Well, there'd be no getting out on my own, I knew that. And I think it was in the third session that I had what I'd legitimately call a break-through. Since then -- and that was probably almost two months ago now -- I've been able to think about my anxiety, my rage, my hurt, in a different way. And I know I'm fortunate, to have this opportunity, to be sharing my life with a woman whose vows have been sorely tested too soon.
Talking with both my parents has also really helped. I still find this so surprising. This can't be the first time their counsel has done so, but I'll be damned if I can remember anything like this, sitting here now. I'm lucky they're both still alive to give it.
I walked up to the Painswick Beacon today with a new meetup. The views were breathtaking. And having my boy warm against my chest made it so much more special, daydreaming of him running off ahead, like the other kids were. Two six-year-old girls caught my attention: they were thick as thieves; yet they'd only met an hour before. I had to ask one of the mums twice; I could hardly fathom it. I'm looking forward to that too.
I want to help people again. Not like I used to -- I doubt I'll ever be able to throw so much of me into that again -- but I do want to do it. I'm getting excited about Tandemonium again, where, six months ago I was a hair's breadth from adding it to the half dozen resignations of that awful, awful weekend.
That seems like a long time ago now.
I haven't felt the need to take any Amitriptyline in a long time. (I was prescribed a low dose for anxiety back in April, and I honestly don't know what I would've done without it.) I have been a bit anxious at times recently, but knowing it's there has been enough to see me through.
My mom's visiting. Nothing phases her. (She'd probably laugh to read that.) That wasn't always the case, believe me. I don't know when that started to change, but I actually found it upsetting, initially. I would find myself goading her, trying to get a reaction. Psychotherapy helped me reframe that. Now I just ask more and more pointed questions. She'll probably tell me to piss off at some point, but, in the meantime, it's, well, very liberating, frankly.
I've been lucky enough to get a large chunk of psychotherapy sessions through the NHS. If I'm honest, I was more than a bit skeptical at the outset. But I gave it my best shot. Where I'd sunk to... Well, there'd be no getting out on my own, I knew that. And I think it was in the third session that I had what I'd legitimately call a break-through. Since then -- and that was probably almost two months ago now -- I've been able to think about my anxiety, my rage, my hurt, in a different way. And I know I'm fortunate, to have this opportunity, to be sharing my life with a woman whose vows have been sorely tested too soon.
Talking with both my parents has also really helped. I still find this so surprising. This can't be the first time their counsel has done so, but I'll be damned if I can remember anything like this, sitting here now. I'm lucky they're both still alive to give it.
I walked up to the Painswick Beacon today with a new meetup. The views were breathtaking. And having my boy warm against my chest made it so much more special, daydreaming of him running off ahead, like the other kids were. Two six-year-old girls caught my attention: they were thick as thieves; yet they'd only met an hour before. I had to ask one of the mums twice; I could hardly fathom it. I'm looking forward to that too.
I want to help people again. Not like I used to -- I doubt I'll ever be able to throw so much of me into that again -- but I do want to do it. I'm getting excited about Tandemonium again, where, six months ago I was a hair's breadth from adding it to the half dozen resignations of that awful, awful weekend.
That seems like a long time ago now.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Potential versus fame, or Be all that you can be versus Be more of a somebody
I just finished listening to Episode #9 of Millennial, entitled "Becoming More of a Somebody" and it's brought up a lot of conflicting emotions. Right at the top of them is that this is the sort of thinking that comes from growing up believing that you can do anything, which seems so much more prevalent today than it was in the 80s. (Which is the broadest of generalisations, I realise. I feel like stereotypes were so strong back then, with real power.) I found myself thinking that Lee, one of the three awarded the much-sought-after Kroc Fellowship, got it because he'd done something else; that NPR didn't want another enthusiastic, but -- in terms of varied walks of life and work -- inexperienced voice on the radio. Lee'd taught. Maybe something in his pitch or his approach was new to them, and they liked it.
The idea that everyone is a somebody is something I live now, every day. Working for a SEN charity, it's a given. What follows from that is helping people reach their potential - another phrase I don't think I really understood before seeing how people can be beaten down, through actions and words, obviously, but also through simple assumptions, to the point where they don't even know what they're really capable of, let alone believing they can achieve it. So you're helping them recognise and reach for that, and, ultimately, hoping they'll find a place in a community, and some happiness.
But it can also be a crippling idea.
For years I didn't have any strong feelings about what I wanted to do. I chose Computer Science as a field in my last year of high school, and accepted the first position I was offered upon graduating. I was earning good money in a stable job before I really had time to worry about it; something that the Millennial podcast has helped me appreciate, in retrospect. But that lack of strong feeling persisted, and then the "Be Somebody!" platform of the Internet arrived. Things like Geocities were almost exclusively soapboxes. And that's the danger I'm referring to. For me -- and Megan Tan obviously, given the title of that episode -- being somebody meant being somebody with something to say, and recognised as such; someone to stand out from the crowd; that there are somebodies and then there are SOMEBODIES, which, while obviously a contradiction, I found insidious.
It's the wanting to have something to say, wanting that creative spark, that put me in such a quandary for so many years. I was taking vocational tests, worrying about the colour of my parachute, searching for my passion, for my 'thing'. (Unfortunately, I didn't actually try anything, like joining clubs or volunteering my time.) I think a big part of why much of that has quieted in recent years is that I've finally come to realise that life isn't just about creating. It's also about doing; about, well, living. (Call it living by example if you want, although that makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, like I'm in church again.) For example, just by being there for someone, every day, or even once a week, gets that message across, that they're somebody, in a way that I could never express through essay, poem, short film, etc. And it gets played back to you, of course: I know I'm somebody because I see it in the faces of the people I help, the people I love. I don't know why it took me so long to understand that. Likely, it's that I wasn't doing enough, to get that positive reinforcement.
And it isn't that I'm now free from doubt. After listening to an episode like that, I'm still going down rabbit-holes: "I've experienced so much," "I could bring so much to a radio show," "What should I create?" And then I laugh and hop on my blog.
The idea that everyone is a somebody is something I live now, every day. Working for a SEN charity, it's a given. What follows from that is helping people reach their potential - another phrase I don't think I really understood before seeing how people can be beaten down, through actions and words, obviously, but also through simple assumptions, to the point where they don't even know what they're really capable of, let alone believing they can achieve it. So you're helping them recognise and reach for that, and, ultimately, hoping they'll find a place in a community, and some happiness.
But it can also be a crippling idea.
For years I didn't have any strong feelings about what I wanted to do. I chose Computer Science as a field in my last year of high school, and accepted the first position I was offered upon graduating. I was earning good money in a stable job before I really had time to worry about it; something that the Millennial podcast has helped me appreciate, in retrospect. But that lack of strong feeling persisted, and then the "Be Somebody!" platform of the Internet arrived. Things like Geocities were almost exclusively soapboxes. And that's the danger I'm referring to. For me -- and Megan Tan obviously, given the title of that episode -- being somebody meant being somebody with something to say, and recognised as such; someone to stand out from the crowd; that there are somebodies and then there are SOMEBODIES, which, while obviously a contradiction, I found insidious.
It's the wanting to have something to say, wanting that creative spark, that put me in such a quandary for so many years. I was taking vocational tests, worrying about the colour of my parachute, searching for my passion, for my 'thing'. (Unfortunately, I didn't actually try anything, like joining clubs or volunteering my time.) I think a big part of why much of that has quieted in recent years is that I've finally come to realise that life isn't just about creating. It's also about doing; about, well, living. (Call it living by example if you want, although that makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, like I'm in church again.) For example, just by being there for someone, every day, or even once a week, gets that message across, that they're somebody, in a way that I could never express through essay, poem, short film, etc. And it gets played back to you, of course: I know I'm somebody because I see it in the faces of the people I help, the people I love. I don't know why it took me so long to understand that. Likely, it's that I wasn't doing enough, to get that positive reinforcement.
And it isn't that I'm now free from doubt. After listening to an episode like that, I'm still going down rabbit-holes: "I've experienced so much," "I could bring so much to a radio show," "What should I create?" And then I laugh and hop on my blog.
Friday, January 29, 2016
I think I've got the care bug...
What's happened to me? I'm honestly unsure. I got back from a 3-11pm shift last night completely charged up. And then today I wrote the organiser of a work trip in March - to take students to a Cardiff Devils' game! - about the possibility of helping out - despite the fact that it's a 4pm-midnight shift, and I'm already down for an 8am-3pm shift that day. Whether I'd regret it on the day is an open question, but that I'm even contemplating it... It's, well, mind-boggling.
I'm completely unused to thinking about work this way.
And it isn't just work. More generally, I find myself wishing I had more time to volunteer. There are so many great organisations and causes right here in Gloucestershire, like The Butterfly Garden, that I still haven't given time to. And I do still have some free time. But, the thing is, I know myself: I need time to recoup; otherwise, those folks I'm trying to help simply won't get my best. I'm hoping my stamina will increase as I get used to this lifestyle, but the fact is that I've spent decades sitting around at work, and then at home on my own pursuits; it's a work in progress.
Then there's other time that is free, to a point. But those evenings - and every second weekend - are, well, really important to me. I've made a lot of mistakes in my personal life, but if I had to pin down the biggest, it'd be failing to properly invest in my relationships. Back then, it wasn't about any causes I was supporting - it shames me to say that, up until a few years ago, I was living entirely selfishly - but that tension is the same; and I don't want to lose sight of what's most important to me, hands down.
Phew. That got a bit heavy. Sorry 'bout that.
Another concern is that my current roster of charities really represent squeaky wheels, of a sort. In a nutshell, they responded quickly and often to my early offers of help. They're all great, and so I'm now struggling with the idea that I should probably step back from a few - particularly some of the weekly commitments - so that I can devote time to other causes. It's particularly difficult because the motivation is mostly selfish: I want to try new things. I landed my current job that way, and a big part of me wonders what else is out there that I might like and be good at; it'll likely be related to social care, but, my goodness, what a breadth of roles that covers, even with my limited understanding.
In summary, I need to either a) prioritise where I really want to help, or b) get my mind and body fit, so I can spend those days off more effectively, or c) clone myself... Or d) all of the above.
I'm completely unused to thinking about work this way.
And it isn't just work. More generally, I find myself wishing I had more time to volunteer. There are so many great organisations and causes right here in Gloucestershire, like The Butterfly Garden, that I still haven't given time to. And I do still have some free time. But, the thing is, I know myself: I need time to recoup; otherwise, those folks I'm trying to help simply won't get my best. I'm hoping my stamina will increase as I get used to this lifestyle, but the fact is that I've spent decades sitting around at work, and then at home on my own pursuits; it's a work in progress.
Then there's other time that is free, to a point. But those evenings - and every second weekend - are, well, really important to me. I've made a lot of mistakes in my personal life, but if I had to pin down the biggest, it'd be failing to properly invest in my relationships. Back then, it wasn't about any causes I was supporting - it shames me to say that, up until a few years ago, I was living entirely selfishly - but that tension is the same; and I don't want to lose sight of what's most important to me, hands down.
Phew. That got a bit heavy. Sorry 'bout that.
Another concern is that my current roster of charities really represent squeaky wheels, of a sort. In a nutshell, they responded quickly and often to my early offers of help. They're all great, and so I'm now struggling with the idea that I should probably step back from a few - particularly some of the weekly commitments - so that I can devote time to other causes. It's particularly difficult because the motivation is mostly selfish: I want to try new things. I landed my current job that way, and a big part of me wonders what else is out there that I might like and be good at; it'll likely be related to social care, but, my goodness, what a breadth of roles that covers, even with my limited understanding.
In summary, I need to either a) prioritise where I really want to help, or b) get my mind and body fit, so I can spend those days off more effectively, or c) clone myself... Or d) all of the above.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Ask your MP to support the Pavement Parking Bill!
December 4 is a big date for the latest Pavement Parking Bill! It's scheduled to have its second reading. As Guide Dogs have said, it needs 100 MPs, in Parliament, supporting it; a big ask!
Please write to your MP, asking for their support. I've included my letter below; feel free to pillage it as much as you like. :-)
BEGIN MESSAGE
Hello Mr Chalk,
My name is John Jarvis, and I live at [REDACTED- Make sure you include your full name and address, including post code! --JJ]
I know that you are concerned about the pavements of Cheltenham: just this summer you stated that improving their quality has to be a "top priority." Pavement parking is one of the main causes of damage to paving slabs, and is a major obstacle to not only the sight-impaired and blind -- as you experienced first-hand on your recent blindfolded walk -- but also families with pushchairs and those on mobility scooters.
In 2013, Guide Dogs released 'Parking Attitudes', which showed that 54% of those surveyed admitted to parking on pavements. Shockingly, over half of those people admitted to doing so despite considering the problems their parking decision would cause pedestrians. Certainly my own experience of guiding sight-impaired citizens around St Mark's and St Paul's in particular has reinforced this message: we simply cannot rely on others to park in a manner that isn't not only limiting, but also downright dangerous, for a great many of our fellow citizens.
Therefore, I hope I can count on your support of the Pavement Parking (Protection of Vulnerable Pedestrians) Bill 2015-16 at its second reading, now scheduled for Friday, December 4, 2015.
Kind regards,
John Jarvis
END MESSAGE
Update 08/04/2016: As you may be aware, the bill failed to pass its second reading. Mr Chalk had written me beforehand with his reasons for not supporting the bill; it was a well-reasoned letter, I must admit.
The latest news is that Guide Dogs is once again asking for your support! This time, they're looking to keep the pressure on DfT - and its Minister, specifically - to provide details on this research that's been promised, including when it will begin.
Please write to your MP, asking for their support. I've included my letter below; feel free to pillage it as much as you like. :-)
BEGIN MESSAGE
Hello Mr Chalk,
My name is John Jarvis, and I live at [REDACTED- Make sure you include your full name and address, including post code! --JJ]
I know that you are concerned about the pavements of Cheltenham: just this summer you stated that improving their quality has to be a "top priority." Pavement parking is one of the main causes of damage to paving slabs, and is a major obstacle to not only the sight-impaired and blind -- as you experienced first-hand on your recent blindfolded walk -- but also families with pushchairs and those on mobility scooters.
In 2013, Guide Dogs released 'Parking Attitudes', which showed that 54% of those surveyed admitted to parking on pavements. Shockingly, over half of those people admitted to doing so despite considering the problems their parking decision would cause pedestrians. Certainly my own experience of guiding sight-impaired citizens around St Mark's and St Paul's in particular has reinforced this message: we simply cannot rely on others to park in a manner that isn't not only limiting, but also downright dangerous, for a great many of our fellow citizens.
Therefore, I hope I can count on your support of the Pavement Parking (Protection of Vulnerable Pedestrians) Bill 2015-16 at its second reading, now scheduled for Friday, December 4, 2015.
Kind regards,
John Jarvis
END MESSAGE
Update 08/04/2016: As you may be aware, the bill failed to pass its second reading. Mr Chalk had written me beforehand with his reasons for not supporting the bill; it was a well-reasoned letter, I must admit.
The latest news is that Guide Dogs is once again asking for your support! This time, they're looking to keep the pressure on DfT - and its Minister, specifically - to provide details on this research that's been promised, including when it will begin.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Peddling that lottery dream, or I feel dirty
I feel dirty.
I was scanning my RSS feed of the CBC's top stories when this title caught my eye: "How to plan your financial future after winning the lottery."
Initially, I just snorted and moved on. But then I stopped. Upset. Irritated. Why is my (old?) national news site wasting my time with this cruft? Surely the portion of Canadian tax dollars used to publish this pipe dream could be better spent? I mean, it turns out that it's a Canadian Press story, so I guess most of the work behind this story is funded by and serving corporate interests, but, still, the CBC is hosting it, right?
Just skimming the OLG site is enough to bring the corners of my mouth down. Again, I feel dirty. I mean, I can't be the only one who feels the glad-hands behind these sorts of statements (emphasis mine):
Ultimately, and, likely, naively, I wish these energies could be applied to efficiently allocating our tax dollars, increasing or decreasing taxation as required.
I was scanning my RSS feed of the CBC's top stories when this title caught my eye: "How to plan your financial future after winning the lottery."
Initially, I just snorted and moved on. But then I stopped. Upset. Irritated. Why is my (old?) national news site wasting my time with this cruft? Surely the portion of Canadian tax dollars used to publish this pipe dream could be better spent? I mean, it turns out that it's a Canadian Press story, so I guess most of the work behind this story is funded by and serving corporate interests, but, still, the CBC is hosting it, right?
Just skimming the OLG site is enough to bring the corners of my mouth down. Again, I feel dirty. I mean, I can't be the only one who feels the glad-hands behind these sorts of statements (emphasis mine):
That is a description of OLG's mandated activities. Beyond that is the scope of our operations and the significant benefit OLG's revenues and our business activities bring to the social and economic life of Ontario. As you journey through different areas of this website, you will find ample evidence of the themes that guide OLG's day-to-day activities: integrity, social responsibility, world-class entertainment, a 'customer first' mindset, safety and security, strong community partnerships and investments, openness and transparency, and pride in history and tradition.And, digging a little further, to their mission (again, my emphasis):
Second, OLG's net profit goes directly to the Government which uses it to support such services as the operation of hospitals; education, research, prevention and treatment of problem gambling; amateur sport through the Quest for Gold program; and local and provincial charities.Am I the only one who would like to see the Ontario Government simply fund that stuff directly through tax dollars? I know, it's terribly simplistic, and the lottery has been around for a very long time, but, again, I just feel dirty. Hayek would probably say that the complexities of these problems, and the best means of supporting their solutions, are beyond the comprehension of any one of us; that we need to focus on the abstract indicator of profit to light our way, as it were. (I'm still trying to bottom his economic theories out, including the context surrounding their genesis, and whether the dawn of globalization in the 80s had him qualifying any of it.) But it just seems wrong: funding, and fuelling -- through all sorts of media -- these pipe dreams for the betterment of society.
Ultimately, and, likely, naively, I wish these energies could be applied to efficiently allocating our tax dollars, increasing or decreasing taxation as required.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Work, and being "born to it"
I was helping out at our local Mencap social club the other evening when one of the other helpers came up to me and said, out of the blue, "You know, it's like you were born to this," or words to that effect. I'd just been playing a spirited game of what a few of the members call Wizer -- a sort of Beggar-My-Neighbour for many, I guess, although I'm notoriously rubbish at card games.
It was a wonderful moment, particularly as I looked to a time when I wouldn't be able to volunteer with them. (Or anyone else. The tl;dr is that the visa I hope to get won't allow it.) It's the sort of thing I never imagined anyone saying about me; just the opposite, in fact: up until last year, I'd worked in IT for a few decades, visibly struggling in many of those jobs. Some of that was down to trying lots of different roles -- some tangential to even the most generous definitions of computer science -- but I also think a good chunk was down to aptitude.
That may come across as a bad attitude, but hear me out: I believe that this last year or so has been one of the best of my life, and that a lot of that is down to me; my attitude, my perspective. When I say that I think I was working at pursuits that didn't really suit me, it isn't through a prism of regret, lamenting time wasted. I suspect that I needed that time, and those experiences, to properly assess what's now before me. And while I'm not certain, that hardly matters; time flows in one direction. One thing I will say, though, is that I think anyone, at any time in their lives, can benefit from dabbling.
Aptitude is tough to pin down. Contemplation can help, but only up to a point. Then, it's a matter of diving in. And that may seem like the most obvious statement in the world, but, trust me, it's been a profound lesson for me (and could be for others with a similar personality, I suspect). You want to be able to hash it out in your head, and you just can't; not completely. And, for me, the best bit has been when, with that yet to learn, you put yourself out there, and, out of the blue, someone tells you that you just might've found it.
Final thought: aptitude isn't everything. And applying it doesn't preclude rough days. But what I can say, from recent experience, is that having someone else point it out regarding a pursuit that you find very rewarding is an amazing feeling.
It was a wonderful moment, particularly as I looked to a time when I wouldn't be able to volunteer with them. (Or anyone else. The tl;dr is that the visa I hope to get won't allow it.) It's the sort of thing I never imagined anyone saying about me; just the opposite, in fact: up until last year, I'd worked in IT for a few decades, visibly struggling in many of those jobs. Some of that was down to trying lots of different roles -- some tangential to even the most generous definitions of computer science -- but I also think a good chunk was down to aptitude.
That may come across as a bad attitude, but hear me out: I believe that this last year or so has been one of the best of my life, and that a lot of that is down to me; my attitude, my perspective. When I say that I think I was working at pursuits that didn't really suit me, it isn't through a prism of regret, lamenting time wasted. I suspect that I needed that time, and those experiences, to properly assess what's now before me. And while I'm not certain, that hardly matters; time flows in one direction. One thing I will say, though, is that I think anyone, at any time in their lives, can benefit from dabbling.
Aptitude is tough to pin down. Contemplation can help, but only up to a point. Then, it's a matter of diving in. And that may seem like the most obvious statement in the world, but, trust me, it's been a profound lesson for me (and could be for others with a similar personality, I suspect). You want to be able to hash it out in your head, and you just can't; not completely. And, for me, the best bit has been when, with that yet to learn, you put yourself out there, and, out of the blue, someone tells you that you just might've found it.
Final thought: aptitude isn't everything. And applying it doesn't preclude rough days. But what I can say, from recent experience, is that having someone else point it out regarding a pursuit that you find very rewarding is an amazing feeling.
Thursday, January 08, 2015
Getting people the help they need
Today I've had a lesson in how difficult it can be to get people the help they need.
Back in July of last year, I contacted Insight Gloucestershire about the befriending role they'd advertised for. By August, I was trained up, approved and ready. Initially, I got a few messages about a lady who might be interested in having visits, only she's very busy at the moment. That was great: if they're physically able, I think, ideally, you hope to build their confidence till you're out of a job, really, and it sounded like she was well on the way.
But that was it.
Later, through driving for Outlook -- Insight's young adults' social club -- I met some younger users. Last month, one of them said that, if I had some time on my hands, Guide Dogs was "desperate for people in Cheltenham." Their website didn't list anything closer than Gloucester, but, through the contact passed to me, I quickly learned that it was true.
I've just now returned from their My Guide - Level 1 training -- which, incidentally, is identical to the training I received from Insight last summer -- to learn that there's a woman who has been waiting to be matched up in the My Guide program since June 2014.
And she lives five minutes from me.
It's so upsetting. To think that this woman isn't suffering in silence, like so many sight-impaired people in this country; no, she's made the effort, asked for help, but because I offered my time and services -- call it befriending, or My Guide, or whatever; it's all the same thing, really -- to a different organisation, we both spent more than six months waiting.
Thanks to the people I've met through Insight, I now have some idea of how isolating these sorts of disabilities are; how low you can get. Six months could be an eternity. Guide Dogs was just telling me that the typical wait-time for a dog is a year. Waiting six months, a year, for some independence, for that little bit of help to build your confidence from, is something I really can't imagine.
I don't know what the answer is, but surely there needs to be some sort of front door that everyone -- users and service providers -- talks to, as a first step. Even if it simply routes them to the appropriate spot, a situation like this wouldn't have happened.
Back in July of last year, I contacted Insight Gloucestershire about the befriending role they'd advertised for. By August, I was trained up, approved and ready. Initially, I got a few messages about a lady who might be interested in having visits, only she's very busy at the moment. That was great: if they're physically able, I think, ideally, you hope to build their confidence till you're out of a job, really, and it sounded like she was well on the way.
But that was it.
Later, through driving for Outlook -- Insight's young adults' social club -- I met some younger users. Last month, one of them said that, if I had some time on my hands, Guide Dogs was "desperate for people in Cheltenham." Their website didn't list anything closer than Gloucester, but, through the contact passed to me, I quickly learned that it was true.
I've just now returned from their My Guide - Level 1 training -- which, incidentally, is identical to the training I received from Insight last summer -- to learn that there's a woman who has been waiting to be matched up in the My Guide program since June 2014.
And she lives five minutes from me.
It's so upsetting. To think that this woman isn't suffering in silence, like so many sight-impaired people in this country; no, she's made the effort, asked for help, but because I offered my time and services -- call it befriending, or My Guide, or whatever; it's all the same thing, really -- to a different organisation, we both spent more than six months waiting.
Thanks to the people I've met through Insight, I now have some idea of how isolating these sorts of disabilities are; how low you can get. Six months could be an eternity. Guide Dogs was just telling me that the typical wait-time for a dog is a year. Waiting six months, a year, for some independence, for that little bit of help to build your confidence from, is something I really can't imagine.
I don't know what the answer is, but surely there needs to be some sort of front door that everyone -- users and service providers -- talks to, as a first step. Even if it simply routes them to the appropriate spot, a situation like this wouldn't have happened.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Volunteering with Yellow Submarine: six months on
As I read my earlier post about volunteering with Yellow Submarine again, the first thing that struck me -- well, the second thing, 'cause I had a huge grin on my face again after reading those holiday highlights -- was how little things have changed in the last six months.
People who know me will be scratching their heads -- in many ways, the last six months have seen more change in my life than in any other, or certainly since childhood -- but what I mean to say is in how I feel about the work I do with Yellow Submarine. In fact, it's inspired me to commit to finding full-time work in social care. And I say that with my feet firmly on the ground.
Certainly the rose-coloured glasses can be seen in that earlier post. I've since spoken to many people in social care, of course, and at least a few have tried to (gently!) point out that all the foibles of the world are represented in those we care for. (Of course!) Still, I maintain that were the proportion of kindness and generosity I've seen amongst those I've supported also true of the wider world, we would hardly recognise it.
And that's where I want to end this post (again): highlighting a few of the amazing people I've had the good fortune to meet through working with Yellow Submarine -- on ten holidays now, and many day activities -- and my local Mencap group:
People who know me will be scratching their heads -- in many ways, the last six months have seen more change in my life than in any other, or certainly since childhood -- but what I mean to say is in how I feel about the work I do with Yellow Submarine. In fact, it's inspired me to commit to finding full-time work in social care. And I say that with my feet firmly on the ground.
Certainly the rose-coloured glasses can be seen in that earlier post. I've since spoken to many people in social care, of course, and at least a few have tried to (gently!) point out that all the foibles of the world are represented in those we care for. (Of course!) Still, I maintain that were the proportion of kindness and generosity I've seen amongst those I've supported also true of the wider world, we would hardly recognise it.
And that's where I want to end this post (again): highlighting a few of the amazing people I've had the good fortune to meet through working with Yellow Submarine -- on ten holidays now, and many day activities -- and my local Mencap group:
 |
| A gift from Spa Club K. |
- K. might've been born at a music festival, he was so at home during WOMAD. I'll never forget our walk to the main site one morning: suddenly K. has left the path, only to return with a wonderfully-costumed young lady in matching hoop skirt and parasol on his arm, looking pleased as punch.
- Just last week, I was lucky enough to meet D. as part of Yellow Submarine's Compass Project. We must've been chatting off 'n' on for close to an hour before he let drop that he was in a documentary; such an amazing person, and so modest! (It's called Ups of Downs, embedded below.)
- And last, but certainly not least, is K., from my local Mencap group (known as the Spa Club). He's a bit of a Renaissance man: he draws, paints, acts, runs half-marathons, keeps bees, will soon be coaching football... Rarely a week goes by that I'm not flabbergasted, learning of his latest project or yet another of his past pursuits. And then, the other week, he presented me with a drawing he'd made, for me.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Volunteering with Yellow Submarine: what it's meant to me
I'd talked about volunteering for years. I even gave up a few days here 'n' there. But that was part of the problem: my framing, however subtle or unconscious, was about losing.
And then everything changed.
I wanted to stay abroad, to stay in the UK, and volunteering -- being sponsored to volunteer -- was my best option. Filtering the list of licensed sponsors based on a reasonable commute left me with a few dozen options, from which Yellow Submarine quickly stood out. It just sounded fun. I wanted to know more.
I didn't know what to expect -- I had no experience with social care, or people with learning disabilities. From the first moment I contacted them, the staff and other volunteers have been so warm and welcoming.
It's hard to exaggerate the effect this experience has had on me. I really do look at the world differently now. These people I've met... the relationships they have with each other are so kind; so tender. Not all, of course, but most (by far), are courteous at the very least. And that's true of all the dealings I've had with the holidayers, without exception.
It's hard to credit -- or it was for me; and it isn't like I'm a cynical person by any stretch -- but I guess the simplest way to put it is that all the folks I've met -- and that's three groups now, not to mention the others I've met on days out -- approach others with a respect you don't often see these days. And I don't mean awe, or with a sense of inferiority; just with an appreciation of others' time. There's a gratitude in their exchanges that, frankly, I find so uplifting. You're just happy to know them. When the bus dropped me off after the Blackpool holiday, M. said, "Oh, John, I really going to miss you." It's a moment that still leaves me with a lump in my throat, in the best possible sense.
And then there's the pride that comes with volunteering for an organization like Yellow Submarine. The staff and volunteers I've met bring so much to the job. In my career, I've been lucky enough to work with some incredibly talented people, but there's something special about seeing those sorts of people apply their talents and energies in a pursuit that so obviously helps individuals and their families, day in, day out. It's truly inspiring, in a way that I can't say I ever really understood before now.
Incidentally, Yellow Submarine has just published a report based on a recent survey of affected parents, in the light of Oxfordshire County Council's warning that significant cuts to children's disability services are planned for late 2014/2015. To read some of the feedback in the appendices is to understand how much the holidays I help out on (as an example) mean to these people and their families.
I think I'll end this post with a few holiday highlights (thus far, and in no particular order):
And then everything changed.
I wanted to stay abroad, to stay in the UK, and volunteering -- being sponsored to volunteer -- was my best option. Filtering the list of licensed sponsors based on a reasonable commute left me with a few dozen options, from which Yellow Submarine quickly stood out. It just sounded fun. I wanted to know more.
I didn't know what to expect -- I had no experience with social care, or people with learning disabilities. From the first moment I contacted them, the staff and other volunteers have been so warm and welcoming.
It's hard to exaggerate the effect this experience has had on me. I really do look at the world differently now. These people I've met... the relationships they have with each other are so kind; so tender. Not all, of course, but most (by far), are courteous at the very least. And that's true of all the dealings I've had with the holidayers, without exception.
It's hard to credit -- or it was for me; and it isn't like I'm a cynical person by any stretch -- but I guess the simplest way to put it is that all the folks I've met -- and that's three groups now, not to mention the others I've met on days out -- approach others with a respect you don't often see these days. And I don't mean awe, or with a sense of inferiority; just with an appreciation of others' time. There's a gratitude in their exchanges that, frankly, I find so uplifting. You're just happy to know them. When the bus dropped me off after the Blackpool holiday, M. said, "Oh, John, I really going to miss you." It's a moment that still leaves me with a lump in my throat, in the best possible sense.
And then there's the pride that comes with volunteering for an organization like Yellow Submarine. The staff and volunteers I've met bring so much to the job. In my career, I've been lucky enough to work with some incredibly talented people, but there's something special about seeing those sorts of people apply their talents and energies in a pursuit that so obviously helps individuals and their families, day in, day out. It's truly inspiring, in a way that I can't say I ever really understood before now.
Incidentally, Yellow Submarine has just published a report based on a recent survey of affected parents, in the light of Oxfordshire County Council's warning that significant cuts to children's disability services are planned for late 2014/2015. To read some of the feedback in the appendices is to understand how much the holidays I help out on (as an example) mean to these people and their families.
I think I'll end this post with a few holiday highlights (thus far, and in no particular order):
- Seeing M. and M.'s faces as we walked out beside the pitch at Anfield, during our tour. This was quickly followed by excited, simultaneous jumping up and down and hugging, repeating "I can't believe we're here!" over and over. To play even the smallest role in bringing that sort of unbridled joy into someone's life is such a pleasure and privilege. A grin splits my face every time I think about it -- or write about it, apparently. :-)
- Hearing J. say that he didn't want to go home (at the end of the Dorset holiday), after having had a bit of a rough start, with many calls home. That excitement and those smiles were so rewarding.
- At Sea Life in Weymouth, having a lady stop me and, smiling widely, ask, "Is he always like that?" as G. shouted boisterous and heartfelt wishes from the sidelines to fellow Yellow Submarine holidayers and staff boarding a ride. He's amazing; so happy and selfless -- and I was grinning ear-to-ear as I relayed as much to her.
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