PDA’s talented Tammy Milne has written an informative article for “Tasmanian Times” around her recent mobility scooter accident , which involved a hospital visit or two and additional accessibility issues stemming from ”becoming more disabled”.
As usual, Tammy words not only invite us along on her journey navigating disability issues, but also draw attention to important topics and the need for action.
In this article, she challenges Australia’s apathy and existing roadblocks in providing adequate, accessible and necessary housing for our ageing population and disability community.
It’s a great read, so grab yourself a cuppa and head across to:
www.tasmaniantimes.com/2022/09/a-shower-a-shower-my-kingdom-for-a-shower/
Chances are that if you have a disability, you know that it is going to be a central topic in your life. Though most avoid direct questions or expect an answer that focuses on the downsides. Hidden in all the discussion of barriers, are stories of overcoming.
Kids are the most blunt. They make me a laugh, asking their parents “why is that man using a ….(walking stick, wheelchair or walker)? He’s not old?” Usually followed by a parent shushing or quickly whisking them out of earshot. I’ve learned to welcome the questions and seek out opportunities to highlight that people living with a disability are people. We are neighbours, friends, family members, co-workers and even employers.
I live with a musculoskeletal movement disorder and in addition found out that I have been living with Autism for the past 30 years. Apparently, I was one of the last people to realise I live with Autism. Colleagues in the disability sector just assumed I already knew. Though in hindsight I suppose spending your spare time reading the NDIS ACT or legislation isn’t exactly neurotypical. Though for me, it’s normal; my normal.
The National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) is an insurance scheme that is available to support Australians with significant disabilities both current and in the future. It’s a pledge to help address the barriers in the lives of people that seek to have an ordinary life and to do things that most take for granted.
For me the NDIS enabled me to capitalise on my ability to fall through the cracks and find gaps in services by helping others to avoid the same issues. The NDIS funds me for 10 hours of support on the job a week helping me to overcome disability related barriers. Now as a result, I am the founder of Ability Links. I employ 12 people (most of whom have a disability or a family member with a disability) and support many people with disabilities as a registered NDIS provider.
Across 2020-2021 the NDIS invested $23.7 Billion into the lives of people living with a disability, employing 270,000 people and returning an expected $52.4 Billion to the Australian GDP in ancillary benefits (Per Capita, 2021). This is in addition to providing dignity to people with significant disabilities, and the opportunity for greater self-determination. That is an astounding 2.25% multiplier effect resulting from indirect benefits associated with NDIS funded supports. The injection of funding into the care and health sector helps to provide stability for Australia’s most vulnerable people and employment security for a number of industries that have innovated to meet our needs, then providing the opportunity for Australia to enter the world market with inventions and businesses based in the sector.
As a person originally hailing from a small country town in rural NSW, I know all too well how hard it can be to access health services away from capital cities. The NDIS has thrown a lifeline to people wishing for the lifestyle living in the bush brings, but also provides much needed resilience to embattled regional practices. With years of fire, flood, drought and a Medicare price freeze that has likely seen all three. It is a wonder that Allied Health still practices in rural areas – especially with strains to cost of living and fuel. The NDIS again provides stability, and the consistent support provided by allied health to the disability community means that they have a better chance of retaining staff. If they keep their doors open, someone is there the next time the local footy player has a sprain, or a workplace rehab visit may not mean a two-hour drive to the next regional centre. If rural practices close it isn’t just a handful of jobs lost, but also the goodwill, sponsorship and the money outside the local economy that is lost. This hurts everyone.
I was born with several malformations of the spine and a dodgy nerve that causes spasms. I’ve come to rely on Allied Health to keep me moving. For years this meant hours of travel to get support to manage my disability. At 17 I remember being told that by 25 I’d likely rely on a wheelchair. With few role models to tell me that a wheelchair or other assistive technologies are not to be feared, I felt like I had been punched in the guts. I was afraid of being different and of missing out. Today, coming to know the disability community and the intelligence, resilience, and potential within I’ve come to embrace my differences.
In the past I worked desperately to live in denial about my limits and disability, eventually resorting to training 3 hours a day and getting involved in youth work and fitness to keep up my routine. However, life happens. I ended up being crushed by a forklift attachment that fell on me and tore through the heel of my left foot. Unable to train and unable to care for myself, I was in dire straits. I ended up living in a motorhome for years, with little support or assistance from family.
No running water, no septic and unable to really do a great deal on my feet. Eventually I was able to make the bus into a home, build a water filtration system and other modern conveniences all whilst seated. Eventually moving from regional NSW and youth work to study Psychology and Social Sciences at the University of Wollongong, where a scholarship from the Movement Disorder Foundation provided a much-needed boost to my opportunity.
Today I use a walker, a wheelchair, a mobility scooter or one of my many walking sticks to get around. These things bring me freedom and allow me to make the most of my ability safely. I especially like my sticks. A walking stick doesn’t have to be cold and clinical; I have many different types, shapes and handles. They are an extension of me. One question I’ve been asked is which leg is my bad leg? The answer is both. Whilst one was crushed, the other falls from under me due to a nerve that is impacted by my spine. Having the right assistive technology helps me to get on with my day safely. It may highlight me as different, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes they act as a trigger for compassion. Whether you ask for it or not….
After moving to Wollongong and starting my first year at University, I unfortunately had my right leg drop out on some stairs, leaving my ankle on my left leg shattered when I fell twisting my foot completely backwards. I still regret not getting a picture.
As a student of the social sciences, the word social capital is used a lot as a predictor of resilience. That is, the more people we have in our lives (friends, families, communities, acquaintances), the more likely someone is able to bounce back from a setback. Moving six hours from home, I didn’t know a lot of people. Outside of the NDIS there are not a lot of options for support. The NSW health system and community supports were limited. A house with stairs while using a wheelchair is not ideal, so I was mostly housebound. To go out, I had to get out of the wheelchair, then bum shuffle my way down the stairs with the wheelchair in tow, then get myself back in the chair. It wasn’t a great situation.
The Makerspace at the University of Wollongong was a welcome reprieve for me. The “space” was truly one of the most inclusive communities I have experienced. I regularly visited in a mobility scooter to be welcomed by friendly faces and people welcoming working together to make their lives better. It was there I built the Kangaroo Crutch that helped me to get out of the chair by transferring my weight from my ankle to my knee. The concept of the Makerspace is something I love and my experience is what led to Ability Links creating a new Makerspace for the disability community of Wollongong.
I remember one situation, just after getting out of hospital. I was on campus in my chair. Being a new chair user, I had to use the strength of my triceps and go backwards up hills. One day I ended up getting a wheel stuck in the garden bed out the front of the bus terminal at UOW and quite literally catapulted myself into a bed of woodchips. I was mobbed by onlookers and people wanting to help. I felt extremely embarrassed, but it helped me to understand that people are willing to help and that it’s ok to ask. That said I distinctly remember an experience where an international student saw me struggling and took hold of the back of my chair and pushed me to the library. It was considerate of her, but I didn’t ask for the help, and she didn’t quite understand that I wasn’t heading to the library, but instead the Unibar. That experience highlighted to me that quite often people make assumptions as to the needs of people with disabilities. Here’s a tip: Ask before helping. The gesture may be welcomed, but just pushing me away essentially felt like I was being kidnapped.
Finding a semi accessible home for myself with good housemates was lifechanging. It meant being able to access the community. Eventually it led to a job helping others with a disability as a Support Coordinator, where I have found my experience, skills and past challenges have real meaning. Gaining support from the NDIS really opened opportunities for me that were just out of reach. For me it means greater safety and security. While the NDIS isn’t a direct payment to me, its investment in my life has meant not having to be in vulnerable living situations. It has meant being able to have access to the community, education and to take control over my future. It has given me equity and the opportunity to be at the same starting point as my peers.
The medical model of disability focuses on changing the individual. The social model of disability focuses on changing communities and the lives of people with disabilities. Most of us can’t and don’t want to be “fixed”. We want to be accepted and included. We have impairments that need to be addressed to be meaningfully included. With the NDIS and the connections I have built whilst supported to get out and about, I am better prepared to use my abilities to their full potential. With support I have been empowered to take my life into my own hands.
I see how much the community of People with Disability has to offer, though we must help people move past shallow judgements and break stereotypes entrenched by the medical model. We; people living with disabilities are more than our barriers. Inclusion starts with intentional conversations. True equity comes from understanding and being heard. That means sharing our stories, speaking up and showing what we can achieve when our needs are met. I dream of a day where people are judged on merits, and people living with disabilities are represented in all areas of society, have a place at the table and have a meaningful say over how we live.
This year I was fortunate to win the Sector Innovation Award at the Developing Australian Communities awards gala. My business has just celebrated its second birthday and I am pleased with what we have accomplished in this short time given an overnight success is ten years. While we have much to do in becoming set up then established, we are currently writing a short film, 2 musicals and a series of picture books which will also be toured on stage in Auslan. All this while my body is a full time job. This required the right team of people which I didn’t get until age 43.
Over the years people have been amazed when I share my dreams and aspirations. They assumed i had already achieved a successful music career despite my struggles, which couldn’t be further from the truth. While being seen as enjoying the lifestyle I desired yet did not have is no compensation, it did present me with something I had not considered. How others saw me. Their assumed success was a win and that helped fuel me to do what I could in preparation for the day it was possible. No matter how much my disability affected my body and therefore mental health tempting me to give up, I had to hope for a future opportunity. I was not picky. I would accept what came my way. From age 16 I volunteered in the community to learn whatever I could. I said “yes” to any opportunity. Due to this, I had experiences that I had never dreamed of. They were one off so did not affect my health adversely and they were exciting.
My disability had not been diagnosed during that time. Neither had my medical condition, ASD, hearing loss or PTSD. This would not happen until I was 38. This lack of information Hindered any success attempted. It takes years after diagnosis to work out the best management regime for each condition. This then becomes the principal focus. The lack of support also was a hindrance meaning extra years were required to get on my feet.
Fast forward to 2020 when the world was united by lockdown and the online access the disabled community asked for prior, yet deemed too hard and expensive was now suddenly available to all. The world opened for the first time in my life. It was thrilling to enter the arena as a participant. Often I wasn’t able to be a spectator! Would life begin at 41? This was the time where support started to become available. It was 2 years before the right team came togther. During the 25 years it took to arrive at my future, I had been taking advantage of all free webinars or local workshops run by my council in preparation. I knew with my necessary lifestyle only a small portion of that information was appropriate to me, but I trusted it would be enough and it was. I leapt into action sure of myself and grateful for the required support. I had sought support my whole life of course and when it didn’t come year after year, I focussed on my wellbeing. It got to the point I didn’t believe it would come. The only option left was to find peace in my reality and make a new life. One possible with little to no help.
The saying “If you work hard enough you will succeed” is shared a lot yet how much merit does it hold? Yes this character trait is desirable and necessary, yet no one can achieve goals on their own. Regardless of whether we are poor, disabled, part of any marginalised group, or well off with health, we all need the correct support to succeed alongside grit. That support tends to be sporadic for those in marginalised groups if available it at all. Once I was at peace with this, my mentality began to improve. I felt at peace.
So what did it take to be successful?
1 seeking opportunities and saying yes to whatever is available.
2 accepting my reality to receive internal peace and happiness even if nothing changed.
3 finding grit as nothing is achieved without it.
4 trusting the right support would come at the right time and trusting the process to get there.
Firstly, I’d like to point out that there is certainly room for improvement to the NDIS. Everybody’s circumstances are different, always evolving and so plans cannot be simply formulaic. As a result there’s a lot of negative talk around the NDIS. However, I believe that we need to defend the NDIS. My blog post talks about the way in which I personally benefit from the NDIS.
In 2003 I became an amputee with one of my legs removed with an amputation known as a Hip disarticulation. As a result my life changed. I lost my job and I was unable to carry out household tasks such as vacuuming, mopping, cleaning, changing, washing bedding etc – the tasks that pre-amputation were carried out easily and without thinking.
As I am single and live alone, with family scattered all over the country, the only help I could access was a 1.5 hour visit from my local council home help crew to help with these tasks. There was no help for social activities, shopping and other tasks that I needed. Without the help of my parents for other tasks and getting me to some of my medical appointments life was difficult. I purchased a mobility scooter with my own money to help me get around in the community, to visit my local Men’s Shed and go shopping etc.
In 2018, with the help of my GP, I received my first NDIS plan. It was a very basic plan with 12 months funding for domestic help in the home once a week, once a fortnight visits to do lawn mowing and some gardening and 1.5 hours a week for a support worker for social activities. Some funding was also provided for occupational therapy and physio. Also included was funding for a new Manual Wheelchair and a ramp into my backyard, which enabled me to go outside in my wheelchair independently to enjoy a coffee etc in my backyard (which can be hard to carry using crutches).
The initial 12 month plan also allowed me to purchase a new lightweight, foldable manual wheelchair complete with tiedown points. This was a great help as my previous wheelchair did not have these, creating problems with one country Victoria coach refusing to carry me without these fitted on my wheelchair. On such occasions, I had to struggle out of my chair, up the bus steps and into a seat.
My next plan included a very good report from my OT, which included funding for my ramp into my backyard. This incredible home modification was completed in between one of the many COVID Melbourne lockdowns. Additional funding was also granted for a support worker to help me with some of my social activities, shopping etc – also providing me with welcome company between my planned Men’s shed outings and other activities.
I also received funding for increased occupational therapist hours that included preparation for a quote for a power assist device for my wheelchair. This was approved after a plan review and now I am a proud owner of a smooth one-power assist attachment for my manual wheelchair. This makes it much easier for me to use the chair when navigating steep hills or when fatigue sets in.
The NDIS has also opened up my options socially and I now have help to play in a Tenpin Bowling league once a week. I am also now able to enjoy trips to the park and beach (boardwalks only) with the help of a support worker, my new manual wheelchair and power assist.
I also have some funding for One-on-one gym sessions to help maintain my fitness levels, with an occasional day in a group activity where I can enjoy fun activities like fishing and visiting zoos and other places of interest. Please watch out for up-and-coming videos of my Assisted Technology and home modifications.
I would like to close by saying, that without the NDIS I would not be living the full and happy life that I am today.
Written by Paul Williamson – PDA ACT Associate Director
After eighteen months of avoiding COVID-19: joining the work from home revolution, avoiding contact with others, limiting outings, strict hand-washing and mask-wearing routines, my luck ran out in January, and I tested positive. I decided to travel interstate to visit family who I had not seen since the beginning of the Covid outbreak and, despite being extremely careful, it was not careful enough.
My symptoms were mild, much like a nasty winter cold, and I only learnt it was COVID when trying out one of the incredibly elusive rapid antigen tests (RAT) that I managed to get while my local pharmacy was re-stocking. I take several medications, including one that supresses my immune system and increases the risk of infections – including COVID-19.
My recovery took much longer than the 3-5 days advised by my doctor but, eventually, I tested negative after around 4 weeks.
Wait, what the…
I never fully got back to my baseline of good health, which had consequences when I again tested positive for COVID-19 at the beginning of March. I was triple vaccinated by this point, had already had COVID once and falling ill again was one of the last things I expected. I figured that vaccination plus having the antibodies of a recent infection would protect me for at least a few months.
Symptoms this time were severe, including breathlessness, debilitating fatigue, extreme difficulty concentrating, a total loss of my sense of taste and smell, and less frequently reported symptoms, including painful teeth and gums and insomnia.
While testing negative a few days ago, I’m still unwell and suffering quite bad fatigue and a general feeling of malaise.
It does happen
While anecdotal evidence suggests an increase in the number of people re-infected, there is no publicly available data in Australia at a national level to confirm this (as of March 2022). Research from the UK cited by Professor Mike Toole from the Burnett Institute supports anecdotal evidence. That research found that whilst in November 2021, only one per cent of new cases were reinfections; with the emergence of the Omicron variant, this figure had climbed to 14 percent by March 2022.
My concern (apart from a COVID-19 hat trick) is that some of the symptoms will persist, so called long COVID – a condition now recognised by the World Health Organisation (WHO). I’ve burned a lot of my reserves this year, and keeping up at work while parenting a teenage child and managing my health and other commitments – all while suffering ongoing fatigue and ‘brain fog’, is daunting.
I saw a great meme the other day about vaccination, something like: ‘you can put your faith in modern medical science, or risk dying like a medieval peasant’, which sums it up quite nicely, in my opinion. Going through COVID-19 unvaccinated, based on my experience, is not something I would like to have done.
‘We’re all in this together.’
During the Coronavirus pandemic, I have found the support available for people with disability variable. Despite the (often ad nauseam) pronouncements that “we’re all in this together”, that isn’t always how it felt.
Despite being supposedly at the head of the queue for vaccination, this isn’t how it played out for many people with disabilities who had to wait much longer. They were crowded out by others at vaccination centres or could not receive the vaccination due to living arrangements or mobility. Then we had difficulty getting (and the cost) of RATs, the requirement to queue for hours for PCR tests, the scarcity of support workers, the anxiety about introducing COVID-19 into the home, not to mention the added complexity of simple things like getting groceries and medication.
While I managed to get by, having resources including calling on family and friends, I know others who had a much tougher time. Those on fixed incomes, not as adept at dealing with the bureaucracy, without family and friends to call on, were often left feeling like a cast member in the Hunger Games.
People with disability so often feel the brunt of failures in planning, policy development and program delivery during national disasters or other upheavals. The Disability Royal Commission (DRC) expressed concern about the issue as far back as March 2020, reinforcing its concerns in February 2022 with the outbreak of the Omicron variant. The impact of COVID on people with disability will undoubtedly provide fertile content for the final report of the DRC, due in September 2023.
People with disability are resilient and resourceful; they have learnt (often the hard way) they have to be. It would be nice, especially amid a global pandemic, if their very survival didn’t depend on it.
Written by Krystal Matthews – PDA SA Associate Director
Some women have a burning desire to have children. Other women decide not to have children. There is also a large group of women who never knew how much they wanted children until they discovered fertility issues.
I belong to a group not talked about in society often, if at all. I am a disabled women who grew up with a burning maternal instinct to be a mother. I am also a woman who is considered less capable of being a mother by society even before those 2 pink lines show up on a pregnancy test – simply because of my disability.
Most couples speak to their GP about starting a family. I knew this was a conversation best avoided for me; medical professionals have never filled me with optimism. My Child Studies teacher told me that she didn’t want me to participate in the assessment of having a computerised baby. According to her, it would be too difficult for me and she didn’t want me to drop and break this expensive baby doll. It was then, at 15 years old, that I was already classed as a ‘bad mother’ – before I was even given an opportunity to become one. It didn’t make sense to me. Was it because of my Cerebral Palsy? Or because of my physical limitations and wheelchair? Despite my lifelong dedication to fitting into this mainstream world, I was still being rejected by it and my one pivotal dream seemed like it was frowned upon by society.
This didn’t stop me from viewing myself as a mum in the future. It just made me understand that being a mum in a wheelchair would be harder; mostly because of how non-disabled people view disabled people and because I would need to convince the world that I could be a good mum whilst at the same time trying to convince myself.
I met my partner in 2012 and the paradigm shifted. He had a beautiful 4 year old daughter who taught me that children only want your love, attention and fun. None of these three needs were impacted by my wheelchair and, as I fell in love with my partner, my love for her blossomed equally. She didn’t see my disability like adults do and she adored that I liked to play like a child. So much of my childhood was consumed with physiotherapy activities disguised as play and this has made me actively seek out childlike fun as an adult. The step-parent role was my crash course into parenting and it filled me with confidence and a stronger desire to have my own child, alongside my step-daughter.
Pregnancy was my biggest mainstream role to date; I felt like a ‘real’ woman for the first time. I went to the hospital for mainstream appointments, and I could happily complain about all the mainstream side effects that pregnant women talk about such as nausea and tiredness. I’m not going to lie, being pregnant and in a wheelchair was rough to say the least. People thought I was in a wheelchair because I was pregnant, not a woman in a wheelchair who was pregnant. I was also asked a lot about how our baby was conceived, as if the idea of a woman with a disability having sex was considered outside the realm of possibility. I can’t imagine an able-bodied woman getting asked this question when she tells people she is pregnant.
I gave birth to my baby girl, Zara on the 14th of May 2019 by c-section. It was the first operation I had, and from it I received the most beautiful gift. Giving birth to child who is able-bodied was like giving birth to a child who has superpowers.
When Zara was 9 months old, she looked up at me with her arms open and her big blue eyes begging me to pick her up, which I couldn’t do standing up. Nothing prepared me for that moment. The guilt a mother can feel is astronomical, especially when your baby’s needs are your number one focus.
Every new mother has guilt and anxieties, and I worked through them like I did with every challenge in my life until then. Zara and I are the perfect partnership. She knows I need to sit down before I pick her up. She knows I need my wheelchair before we leave the house. She knows that she can put on her shoes faster than I can put on my shoes. Zara gets excited when she sees another person in a wheelchair as it assimilates her mainstream world. My 13-year-old bonus daughter sees the world a little differently now. I hope she sees the uniqueness in difference and that fitting in all the time is overrated.
My definition of being a good mum is not wrapped up in trying to fit into the mainstream world. Now, as an adult and a mother, I look back at myself as a child and I need to honour the little girl in the pink wheelchair; I kept moving, I kept trying and I didn’t listen to the adults who underestimated me. That little girl will teach my girls something special; that little girl made sure that the only person who was going to shape her world was me.
Tips for women with a physical disability thinking about having children.
• Listen to your own voice, consider what you need, what your individual situation is and seek out a medical team that is supportive.
• Focus on building up your strength and fitness to support your pregnancy
• Work with an Occupational Therapist and a Physio Therapist before, during and after pregnancy to support you.
• Be your own best friend. Shape your own world and know that you are made for your child and your child is made for you.
• Read other stories of disabled parents. We are out there. Read “We’ve Got This” by Eliza Hull.
Tim Marks, PDA TAS Director, recently had his beach wheelchair delivered.
In this 2 part video on PDA’s YouTube channel, he shows just how easy it is to use, put together and dismantle.
Written by and starring Melanie Hawkes (and her dog Upton)
Growing up with three younger brothers, my parents were busy all the time. I either had to learn to do things for myself, or wait a while for someone to help me – not ideal. With hands like mine, sometimes it was a challenge to find ways to do things, but it has made me more independent. There’s no better feeling than being able to achieve something previously thought impossible.
I only have the ability to bend my little finger on each hand, but can grip things between some fingers as well. Tasks I can do include feed myself with ordinary cutlery, write, type, knit, cross-stitch and prune my bonsais with scissors. What I can’t do with one hand I can usually do with the other, and if not, I use my teeth. ** Disclaimer: don’t try this at home. I look after my teeth by flossing and brushing every day and regularly visiting my dentist. **
Here are some videos of me doing some everyday tasks. It might be slow and frustrating to watch, but I am proud that I can do these things when nobody is around to ask for help.
You can watch my videos below or by going to the PDA YouTube channel (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMyTzhTbs2oLH-WZR18zX2Q). Whilst you’re there please check out our other videos and subscribe.
I hope that you enjoy watching my videos.
As a person with a disability, I create a fair bit of rubbish. Items such as gloves and incontinence products cannot be helped, and I am not going to start limiting the use of those. I like to focus on what I can control and reduce that as much as possible. Waste is a huge issue that you can no longer ignore, leave for someone else to deal with or put in the too-hard basket. I like to think that my actions can inspire others, that their actions will inspire others and, before you know it, thousands of people are doing it and it is having a positive impact on the environment.
I started paying attention to my waste when I moved into a brand new home in 2015. I needed some art to cover the boring green fences that three of my windows face. Buying brand new, weather-resistant art was not appealing due to the cost. I thought about doing mosaics, but didn’t want to break any plates or buy special tools or materials. So I started collecting bottle tops. Family and friends also gave me theirs and I was able to use ones of all shapes, sizes, colours and materials from milk, juice, beer, wine, soft drink and even lids off beauty products. I now collect anything useful, like can ring-pulls, plastic straws, corks and the small coloured silicone things you find in bottles of tablets to prevent moisture. They do rust and fade in the weather, but I like the effect it has. And I can easily and cheaply replace them if I wanted.
Not long after I started my recycled art, I read about Plastic Free July. It challenged me to pick one plastic item to reduce for the month. I picked plastic bin liners for my kitchen bin and replaced it with newspaper! It forced me to focus on what I was putting in my bin. With newspaper as a bin liner, I couldn’t put wet, gross stuff in it or I’d be washing the bin every week. Who wants to do that? So I started keeping a container for scraps in the fridge. I was giving these scraps to friends with worm farms, compost or bokashi bins (or the odd stranger from the Share Waste site!), but lately I’ve been taking it to a local community garden or burying it in my back yard for the earthworms to take care of. Eggshells and tea leaves are great for the garden, so I always keep them in a separate container on my bench for my plants. I wish I lived in an area that has a FOGO (or three bin system) bin collection. It would be more convenient, but you cannot always trust that council will do the right thing with it.
I have since done courses on living smart and reducing waste. That one act of lining my kitchen bin with newspaper has led to many other changes at home. I now:
There are probably many more things that I could be doing, and I plan to add to this list as often as possible. But it is what I can comfortably manage for now. If you would like to start, or do more, consider these points:
Looking after the environment is a shared responsibility. If we all do as much as we can, it will go a long way to ensuring a brighter future for everyone.
Good luck!
⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING. This article discusses suicidal feelings.
This week, as part of Mental Health Week, PDA’s TAS Associate Director Tammy Milne, was a speaker at the North West Film Society.
Her honest, heartfelt, poignant and incredibly brave speech took the audience on an emotional journey that shows that no one is vaccinated against the black dog of depression.
Tammy has very kindly allowed us to publish her words and her story and we are extremely grateful to this wonderful, kind and courageous woman for normalising depression and giving a voice and hope to others who may have similar journeys.
“I would like to acknowledge the country in which we are all meeting tonight.
This is Palawa country in lutruwita on the land of the punnalir.planner people. I acknowledge and pay respect to Aboriginal people as the traditional and original owners, and continuing custodians of the lands on which we all gather today and acknowledge Elders – past and present and emerging.
Thank you everyone who has come along tonight to hear this very poignant discussion for mental health week and thank you for the opportunity to share my story and the story of 1000s of other people with disabilities all over.
As you are well aware I’m a person living with disability. I want to talk this evening about intersectionality. How disability and other conditions are not mutually exclusive. How we don’t often think of people with disability and Breast cancer, or people with disabilities and cardiovascular disease or people with disabilities and mental health. Why is that? Because PWD seem to take up space in our minds, as a particular group that’s in our minds don’t move outside that sphere or silo.
We compartmentalised disabilities and PWD as one diagnosis and don’t think more broadly of other issues, like mental health that can accompany person with disability on their life journey.
But statistics inform us that 32% of people living with disability experience high or very high psychological distress compared to 8% with out disability. Another study found that 43% sufferer psychological distress in conjunction with their disability. So if you look at the way society treats people with disability, our society, here in Australia you will be able to understand why PWD have high rates of depression compared with the wider community. We are often treated with fear, people don’t know what to expect with interacting with us , we are ignored, we are pityed , feel shame and are most often treated as less then the rest of the community.
A really great show to watch on telly and is on SBS. Its called Australia what does Australia really think of disability with Kurt Fearnely . Its an eye opener. From the show a survey was collected and
72% of respondents without disabilities said they felt sorry for people with a disability.
72% agreed that people sometimes make fun of people with disability.
So what Im saying here and what the statistics confirm is there is no wonder PWD suffer from depression!
My own story is a winding journey and the cumulative effects of all the things already spoken about.
I was a fire Cracker ready to go off. I had internalised all the trauma of disability and the discrimination, the personal attacks, the pain that I had suffered all my life and in 2018 i exploded.
In a quiet, under the radar sort of way, that involved pills and a good long lay down that I hoped I would never wake from. I had had enough! The two years prior to this were tumultuous! I suffered a back injury at work and fractured three vertebrae in a fall.
The two year prior to my attempted long sleep looked like this! A catalyst of events that fused together in a nightmare scenario that I couldn’t dig my way out of. I hurt my back, went through the workers comp. trauma. I mean I wasn’t taken seriously because of my disability it took 6 weeks from the injury till I got an MRI that actually found the fractures,
And then I started a new job with a principal who wasn’t too keen on having a person with a disability thrust upon them by the department. I spiralled down down down into self doubt, every time I received any form of set back, Or criticism; constructive or not it felt like a body blow I felt worthless.
I went to a very nice doctor in Launceston and told him my story and he said quite frankly you have PTSD. What you have experienced, you have PTSD.
I still am hyper vigilant in my surrounding always looking for an exit if I need it. I have a very strong fight or flight response. Which looks like I get pissed off and leave but in reality it’s my coping mechanism to escape any further trauma by just leaving. I startle easily, I jump easily at any loud noise or sound
How did i start getting through it. Well I recognised that its me and it not me! Its not my fault that society see people with disabilities as unreliable witnesses to their own health needs. Its not my fault that people see people with disabilities as inferior. Its not my fault that the principal couldn’t see my value. Its not my fault that all people with disabilities are not valued. I am me and I embraced that. I embraced my disabilities. I still get discriminated against. Especially outside my home city and even in my city but I know its not my fault. It their problem!
But i can do something about it. I quit my job with the department of education last year after 33 years. I embraced disability. I’m now the Tasmanian associate director of physical disabilities Australia. I strive to make our city our Tasmania and more inclusive and equitable place for all. My work as I see it now is to make life better from now on for all people. That’s why I put my hand up to speak at events like this.
My take home message is that mental health should be treated like any other health condition, we get mammograms, paps smears, colonoscopy, prostrate checks, cardio vascular checks and mental health checks should be though of and treated no differently. Go to a councillor, seek out a psychologist.
Health is holistic; it’s mind and body.
Thank you again for allowing me to share.”
References:
https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports/disability/people-with-disability-in-australia/contents/people-with-disability/prevalence-of-disability
📷 thanks to Vicki Carman-Brown
1800 732 674
