Stories That Stick: The Moments That Remind Me Why I Do This Work

When people ask me what keeps me showing up in this line of work, I never struggle to answer. It’s not about a paycheck or a job title — it’s about the little moments that quietly remind me I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Like today, for example. I’m sitting at a park watching one of my clients swing alongside other kids. He’s nonverbal, and the way he vocalizes his excitement sometimes draws curious looks from other people at the playground. But he doesn’t notice them. He’s too busy having the time of his life, feeling the breeze, flying back and forth through the air, and just being.

For him, I know it matters that I’m here. He knows if anyone says something unkind, I’ll speak up for him. He knows I’ll protect this bubble of happiness he’s found for himself. And for me? This moment is a reminder that I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to do — helping him find joy, connection, and moments of pure childhood fun out in the community, not just inside four walls.

He could stay home and watch movies all day — and he’d probably be content. But the light on his face when we go out somewhere new tells me this is more than contentment — it’s freedom, adventure, and proof that he belongs anywhere his heart wants to swing.

Safe Spaces and Sweet Surprises

Another client of mine is a perfect reminder of this too. He’s also nonverbal, and he loves to stay active — always ready to go, to do, to be part of something. We often join a bowling program where people with all levels of intellectual disabilities come together. Watching him there, surrounded by peers who just get it, who laugh and interact without judgment, is one of my favorite kinds of moments.

In that space, he doesn’t have to explain himself — and neither do I. He can be exactly who he is. And if he needs a voice for something, I’m there for that too. But mostly, he’s just a young man having fun in a place where no one is measuring him against “normal.” They’re too busy cheering for strikes, celebrating gutter balls, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Lessons for Me, Too

Moments like these don’t just teach me about my clients — they teach me about myself. They remind me that other people’s opinions don’t matter the way I once thought they did. I show up every day as my authentic, kind, loving self. I show up to swing, to bowl, to advocate, to explain — whatever my clients need that day. And if anyone has a problem with me standing in their corner? That’s their loss.

My clients remind me that being unique isn’t something to hide. It’s something to honor.

The Truth That Brings Me Back

This work isn’t always easy. There are tough days — days that require patience I didn’t know I had. But the truth that keeps me coming back is simple: We are all perfect in our own way. None of us processes the world exactly the same, and that’s exactly how it should be.

Every day, I get to take the strategies I’ve learned in my own life and use them to help someone else move through their day with a little more comfort, a little more confidence, and a lot more joy. I get to protect the laughter on a swing set, the focus at a bowling lane, the grin on a face when we try something new.

And those stories — the ones that stick — are the real reason I do this work. They remind me that different is beautiful, that community matters, and that showing up, fully and consistently, is sometimes the greatest gift you can give.