Yesterday we, my daughter, her dad and I visited the training center/workshop where she will be spending most of her week days when she moves to the group home she has chosen to move to this fall. Words fail me at this point because if anyone reads this blog who has a cognitively disabled child, I might offend them. My child is physically and cognitively disabled also but her IQ is at the high end of the spectrum for those served by the Association for Independent Development, the agency providing her housing and day services. Its as if she is the smartest kid in her class, yet the most physically disabled, and for that reason she is the hardest person for whom to find a job.
I held back tears as we walked thru the job center. It does not seem like the right place for someone like amy to be. It is full of retarded adults who look as tho they have nothing in common with Amy. The work is not suited to amy's ability except for may one job where the guy counted out ten large nails and dropped them into a package. And he was out of work at the time because they had run out of nails. Its called downtime and it looked there was a lot of it at that place.
I laid in bed last nite crying and sick at heart at my daughter's plight. I can't go on right now.
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