“Self-care” is exhausting (ironic, huh)

young person in wheelchair looking through a large window, the image is taken from behind the young person.

I love self-care. I will gladly indulge in anything that gives me the happy brain stuff (also known as Serotonin and Dopamine), but my enjoyment of reading uninterrupted for days, or cleaning, or rewatching something I’ve seen a million times before isn’t generally perceived as “self-care”, despite its positive impact.

What they don’t tell you when you receive a diagnosis

hearing aid in the ear of a person with dark hair.

Diagnoses of invisible disabilities (for example, MS, ADHD, arthritis, brain injuries, diabetes, learning disabilities, chronic pain and fatigue etc.) are undeniably tricky to navigate, and can be especially difficult for parents with young children with little to no experience of the disability sector

The value of disabled teachers in the classroom

inclusive education classroom with disability icons of wheelchair, walking stick, brain, auslan and walking can on blackboard.

I have done a lot of evolving in my short-long life. From the kid who was left behind, to the person teaching the class. I have a lot to say on the education system – mostly that it’s kaput – and I feel a lot of responsibility when it comes to teaching my kiddos (who, like me, are disabled).

Self-care is prioritising your needs and values

brown tree trunk with different coloured bubbles to form the tree, with the silhouette of a woman kneeling near the tree with her hands upturned.

I used to be someone who considered self-care another thing on the to-do list, a burden of sorts. I desperately wanted self-care to “work” so that I could get on with my life. It was almost clinical.

Overcoming the fear of labelling

the word, disabled.

Since I was a school kid, I have shown signs of ADD – attention deficit disorder.

Spending majority of my classes in uncontrolled daydreaming, fidgeting unconsciously with the stationaries on my desk, and missing half of my schoolwork unintentionally, I started to become frustrated about myself.

Overcoming the fear of labelling

the word, disabled.

A diagnosis is an understanding of myself, and a closure to my unresolved thoughts. It is not a label to be ashamed of, no matter what it is.

Breaking news! CYDA welcomes a new CEO

A smiling white woman in a professional blazer with pearl earrings, square glasses and straight blonde hair.]

Ms Kakoschke-Moore looks forward to leading CYDA in its work to empower children and young people with disability to fully exercise their rights and aspirations.