When Jack was 3 years old, I watched a documentary about a girl with special needs who was being abused by a group of staff in a residential home. I sat there sobbing the whole way through. My husband constantly told me to turn it over, but I couldn’t – it’s like I knew I had to watch it. I couldn’t be ignorant about this topic. From that moment, I knew I never wanted to send my son to a residential school.

My sons residential school placement broke down around 8 months ago. He is now home with me 24 hours a day.

Sometimes I look back on my life and laugh at my former self. I feel like I do not know her at all. I look back at old photos and videos, as if looking at a stranger. I can barely remember the past these days. It’s easy to get lost in the day to day in my situation, and too hard to think of fun times. However, lately, I have found that just thinking of all the things I’ve experienced, all I’ve learnt and how much I’ve changed, brings me some peace.

There are times when things get dark, but there are also times when the light shines through the cracks.

Let’s be honest about this – it doesn’t always get easier as they get older and it’s not just about my son’s size, it’s my mind set too.

I don’t think I can ever describe the feeling of someone doing something kind for my family.

Jack was diagnosed with Autism when he was 2 years old. At this time, I was advised to contact the disabled children’s service and speak with a social worker and that they would be able to advise me of the services available to us. I was reluctant at first. It turns out, with good reason. My very first experience of them left me feeling belittled and hopeless, and they were only there for half an hour. In 10 years, we have had several social workers allocated to us and I’ve only ever had 2 that were any good.