Saw this framed in a disability services office, and wanted to share, because, actually.
(Photo of framed poem.)
YOU AND I
By Elaine Popovich
I am a resident. You reside.
I am admitted. You move in.
I am aggressive. You are assertive.
I have behavior problems. You are rude.
I am noncompliant. You don’t like being told what to do.
When I ask you out for dinner, it is an outing. When you ask someone out, it is a date.
I made mistakes during my check-writing program. Someday I might get a bank account. You forgot to record some withdrawals from your account… the bank called to remind you.
I wanted to talk with the nice-looking person behind us at the grocery store. I was told that it is inappropriate to talk to strangers.
You met your spouse in the produce department… neither of you could find the bean sprouts.
I celebrated my birthday yesterday with five other residents and two staff members. I hope my family sends a card. Your family threw you a surprise party. Your brother couldn’t make it from out-of-state. It sounded wonderful.
My case manager sends a report every month to my guardian. It says everything I did wrong and some things I did right. You are still mad at your sister for calling your Mom after you got that speeding ticket.
I am on a special diet because I am five pounds over my ideal body weight. Your doctor gave up telling you.
I am learning household skills. You hate housework.
I am learning leisure skills. Your shirt says you are a “Couch Potato.”
After I do my budget program tonight, I might get to go to McDonald’s if I have enough money. You were glad the new French restaurant took your charge card.
My case manager, psychologist, R. N., occupational and physical therapist, nutritionist and house staff set goals for me for the next year. You haven’t decided what you want out of life.
Someday I will be discharged … maybe. You will move onward and upward.