I am hearing from families that people are losing IHSS Protective Supervision because their child is being described as "Self-Directed."  "A critical practical point: a person may have documents describing them as a “self-directed learner,” be enrolled in a Regional Center self-determination program, and still qualify as non-self directed under IHSS criteria. These are not contradictions. They are separate programs measuring different things with the same words." (IHSS Connect link below) I am writing this as another mom who understands this process from the inside. I am not writing from a distance. I have to renew the request for Protective Supervision for my own daughter every year, and I know how frustrating and exhausting it can feel to prove something that is obvious in daily life. When you live with someone every day, the need may feel completely clear. You may think, “How could anyone not see this?” or “ Why do I have to prove what I already know? ” Those fe...

Every parent I have ever worked with already knows the truth about their person. They know it in their bones. What they needed was a language for it, a structure for it, and someone to tell them it was worth fighting for. This book is that. A Note Before You Begin This book was not written from a distance. It was written from thirty-five years of sitting in rooms with families who were doing the hardest thing — learning to fight for a life that fits for someone they love. It was written from the meetings, the waiting rooms, the plans that said nothing true about the person they were supposed to serve. And it was written because of Lauren. My daughter. My compass. The reason I ever learned that a plan could be a portrait instead of a file. What you hold here is not a policy manual or a compliance guide. It is a map — imperfect, honest, built from everything I have learned — for parents who are tired of proving what they already know, and ready to build something better. You do not need...

  The Diagnosis That Changes Everything: Why Genetic Testing May Open a Faster Path to Social Security Benefits For decades, I've sat across from parents who are exhausted. Not just from the caregiving — though that is its own marathon — but from the paperwork, the waiting, the proving. Proving that their child truly cannot work. Proving that the disability is real, is severe, is permanent. Proving what they have known in their bones since their child was an infant. If you are the parent of an adult child with developmental disabilities, and you haven't yet pursued genetic testing, I want to tell you something I wish someone had told me years ago: a genetic diagnosis may be one of the most practical and powerful tools in your child's benefit toolkit. Here's why. The SSA Compassionate Allowances Program: A Fast Lane Most People Don't Know Exists When a family applies for Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) or Supplemental Security Income (SSI), they en...

  The Broken Promise of Home For twenty-six years, Trudy, a single mother for nearly 30 years, carefully planned for her daughter Lauren's future. Lauren, now 41, has autism and an intellectual disability that requires 24/7 supports, and receives $1,300 per month in SSDI benefits based on Disabled Adult Child Benefits. Trudy's three-bedroom condo in Saratoga, purchased for $430,000 in January, 1998, is now worth $2 million. Under Proposition 13, her property taxes have remained manageable at roughly $9,000 per year. The plan was simple: leave Lauren the family home, the place where she grew up, where she feels safe, and where local services support her community-based living. At 70 years old, if Trudy lives another 10-15 years, she will have spent nearly four decades ensuring Lauren has a stable foundation for life, while the impact of the impossible tax burden continues to rise.  But California's Proposition 19, passed in 2020 and effective February 16, 2021, has shatter...

  What happens when turning 70 doesn't feel like reaching a milestone, but like running out of time? Yesterday there was a gas leak at my daughter's program, on my 70th birthday. Construction had pierced a pipe, the shut-off valve was stuck open, and everyone had to evacuate immediately. My 41-year-old daughter was playing vegetable bingo—something she needed to complete because that's how her mind works. When staff tried to get her to leave, she resisted. She had to be physically carried out, traumatized and unaware of the danger she was in. Later, I was able to help her understand that the people who evacuated her may have "saved her life," and she thanked them. But I lack faith that in a repeat evacuation, the same thing wouldn't happen. If there's ever a need to take cover, seek shelter, flee danger—this will be a challenge for whoever is supporting her. This is my constant, daily worry crystallized into one terrifying afternoon. I've been thin...

  Now, it’s the “Oh $hit, I’m almost 70” phase. —70. A milestone that once felt impossibly far off is now here, present, lived-in. I still feel young in many ways, but the truth is undeniable: I am in the phase of life where you can’t pretend there’s still plenty of time to get everything in order. The runway is shorter now. I’ve been reflecting a lot lately. Ten more years of love, worry, planning, fatigue, advocacy, joy, and fear. Ten years watching Lauren grow, shift, surprise me, and need me—still. Ten years of doing my best to hand off pieces of the puzzle, bit by bit, without letting the whole thing fall apart. And ten more years of quietly, painfully asking myself: • Is it enough? • Will it hold when I’m gone? • Who will catch her if she falls—and will they see her, the whole her? I’ve lived with these questions longer than I care to admit. I speak to families every week who are just beginning this journey, or who are stuck in that loop: “I know I should plan, but it’s...