my story.
HOW IT STARTED:
In the summer of 2004, just after his third birthday, my son Mitchel was diagnosed with autism. My husband and I already knew there was something different in the way he played with his peers and how he wasn’t meeting the same developmental milestones.
By the time we received the diagnosis, we had already read so much about autism that we actually felt relief. We believed the diagnosis would open doors to the support and funding Mitchel — and our family — would need.
What we didn’t know was just how long and difficult the journey ahead would be.
AND OUR JOURNEY BEGAN.
The first few years were incredibly challenging. We spent our time trying to get on waitlists and learning everything we could about autism and how best to support our son. We attended workshops and webinars and were introduced to countless approaches — intensive behavioural therapies, specialized diets, supplements, and more. It was overwhelming. No matter what we tried or how much we sacrificed financially, emotionally, mentally, and physically, it always felt like we weren’t doing enough.
Eventually, the constant pressure and financial strain took a serious toll.
I burned out and was hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital for over three weeks. At that point, we had been on waitlists for support but had no respite and no financial assistance. It wasn’t until my husband called an emergency meeting with multiple organizations — advocating fiercely for our family — that we were moved up the waitlist and finally received respite. That respite was life-changing and allowed me the space I needed to recover.
One of the most important things I learned during my hospitalization was that my husband and I could not do this alone. We needed far more support — financially, emotionally, mentally, and physically. And we needed to learn how to ask for help.
Navigating systems that are meant to support individuals with disabilities and their families has been one of the most challenging parts of this journey.
Over time, I learned how to be an advocate. I learned how to speak up for my son, for myself, and for my family. I learned how to research, how to ask questions, how to push back — and how to become the squeaky wheel when necessary. I reached out to anyone I thought might be able to help.
Years ago, while seeing a social worker, I asked whether there were any additional funding options available to help subsidize programming for Mitchel. I knew he needed structure and routine during the summer months, but I couldn’t afford summer camps along with one-on-one support. By the end of that session, I had actually educated the social worker about funding options she hadn’t been aware of. She suggested I consider becoming a parent mentor because of my knowledge and advocacy skills. While I appreciated her words, I knew at the time I didn’t have the capacity — I was still just trying to keep my own head above water.
AND NOW WE'RE HERE.
Fast forward more than a decade later, and I am in a very different place.
With greater support and increased capacity, I was able to return to school and complete a degree at King’s University College, specializing in Social Justice and Peace Studies.
More recently, I attended a webinar hosted by Developmental Services Ontario, where lawyer John Done of the Kingston Community Legal Clinic outlined the legal and human rights of Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) recipients. Inspired to learn more, I conducted additional research and built a case on my son’s behalf. Through my advocacy, he was recognized for the ODSP status and funding he was entitled to receive, resulting in an increase of more than $350 per month in his ODSP benefits.
I felt thrilled — and also deeply frustrated and angry.
Through this process, I learned that ODSP caseworkers are often directed to place applicants on Board and Lodge status by default. Many individuals who are eligible for Renter status only receive it if they know how to advocate for it. The injustice of this — and the amount of money denied to individuals with disabilities and their caregivers simply due to lack of information and advocacy — was infuriating. I wanted people to know their rights and understand what they could advocate for.
That realization is what led me to start my own business. I never imagined I would become an entrepreneur. I knew it would be a lot of work, but I couldn’t accept that people were missing out on funding they were eligible for — funding that could significantly improve their quality of life.
Since starting my business, I have been successful in having every one of my clients’ ODSP status changed and funding increased.
I am not a lawyer or a paralegal.
I am a caregiver with over 20 years of lived experience navigating disability systems and advocating for my son. I understand how overwhelmed and exhausted caregivers are. Many don’t have the time, energy, or capacity to attend webinars, research policies, or challenge decisions. That is why I created my services — to help relieve some of that pressure.