Writing Doesn't Have to Look the Same!

 I’ve tried...I have tried so fucking hard this year to stay calm and assume the best. To smile and nod and be the understanding parent.

I told myself, maybe people just deliver things differently.
Maybe it’s tone. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s me.

So I let things slide more than I should have. Because I wanted to believe the people around my son, the ones entrusted with his growth, his education, his self-worth...were doing their best.

And then came the comment.

“Why did you write a book if you can’t read it?”

To a disabled child...MY child.

You said that out loud and thought… what? That it was clever? Funny? That it would teach him something? The only thing it taught was that adults in positions of power can be cruel as fuck regardless of age.

Kaedyn is not soft. He has lived through things most people can’t even imagine. And he turned it all into a book...A real book. A beautiful, powerful, soul-bearing book. A book that empowers children just like him!

He wrote that story in his own way.
And yeah, I helped him, because writing doesn’t have to look the same for everyone.
If help is needed? Then help is fucking given.
That book is his voice, his experiences, his whole truth!

And your response to that was to tear it down?

Congratulations...You became the villain in the very story you clearly never took the time to read.

Flip to the page on bullies... next time I'll have you illustrated there!
Because bullies don’t always shove kids on the playground.
Sometimes, they sit behind desks, they weaponize tone and power and passive-aggressive digs, and think no one’s watching.

But I’m watching now and Kaedyn is listening and just because he's in a wheelchair doesn't make him stupid. And now I’ve heard too much from too many. It’s not just Kaedyn. It’s his friends too.

And no, you can’t manipulate me into believing they’re all lying.
You’re not that clever, and I’m not that easy to gaslight. And I'm done being nice...

I don’t want to play this “he said, she said” game.
This is a kid’s confidence, shattered.
This is an entire house that feels the shift in his mood, his family and support team...we all notice.

I’m not here to make sure you’re okay after what you said while my son bleeds from a thousand invisible wounds you caused.

You don’t get to speak to any child like that, disabled or not. You don’t get to question their accomplishments. You don’t get to humiliate them and then call it education.

And to those of you who are in Kaedyn’s corner who love him in every shade, who support him with humour, patience, and grace, and reassure him when he is low.
Thank you...You make the world softer. Brighter. Better. And we love you for it.

And to my friends!!
My people...The ones who pick up the phone and let me scream before you've even said hello and just let me word vomit it all out. Those of you who hold me through that fire—Who pour fuel when I need it and water when I don't...You are my people. Thank you for never flinching when I grow claws.

And thank you for always knowing that this isn’t just about one comment. It’s about protecting not just my kid but the next vulnerable child who comes along and may not be able to say it out loud and silently suffers under the reign of an adult belittling them. This isn’t about one moment anymore.