Hi, I’m Wren, on my way home on the bus with a bag of groceries and my walker. It was so chilly during my volunteer shift today, and we were extra busy because of the temperature outside. I had to keep pulling my sleeves down over my fingertips because of the draft from the front doors. Each time someone came in, the heat in the room escaped just a little more. My co-worker Samira had the right idea—she was wearing a fleece sweater under her apron. After a while, she saw how cold I was and lent it to me for about an hour before she got cold again.
I worked only a three-hour shift today for the centre’s cooking program because I can’t stand for long periods of time. Despite how tiring it is, I love volunteering at this program because I get to help people learn how to cook on a budget and try new recipes with various dietary accommodations. I originally worked longer shifts, but one of the managers could see me leaning heavily on my walker, so they suggested I take on shorter shifts to accommodate my condition. I have diabetes, which leads to hypoglycemia, a fancy word for low blood sugar, which basically causes me to feel dizzy a lot of the time. Other side effects I sometimes have from diabetes are a numbness or tingling in my hands, legs, or feet, and when it is at its worst, it can lead to burning sensations that are painful and limit my movement. The walker helps. Needless to say, the shorter shifts make it nice to have the option of being able to help the community but at the same time not have to overexert myself.
My co-worker Samira is great. She had noticed that I keep my hair quite short and wear gender-neutral clothing, so she actually asked what pronouns I use. After I told her I was non-binary—I don’t identify with any specific gender—she’s been especially good at remembering to use they/them pronouns when referring to me. Her family is Syrian, and she brings in Syrian recipes when we’re planning meals for the next week. That’s part of why I love the kitchen—I have my own family’s Nigerian recipes, but I get to learn about cooking from other cultures. Just last week, one of the women who has been there a bit longer taught me how to make dumplings the German way, and it was so straightforward but also delicious. Most importantly, we were able to make them in large quantities for all the people who take our cooking classes. They don’t require a lot of ingredients either, just potatoes, flour, butter, and egg yolks. Samira even told me a way to make it gluten-free and dairy-free, for my partner, Cyrus, who has celiac disease and is lactose-intolerant.
Not only do I love the people in our volunteer cooking program, but learning about the different ways and things people eat has taught me how to cook with limited finances. You see, I’m on provincial disability support, and it’s really hard to try and eat healthy when you’re living on such a tight budget. Cooking on a budget isn’t just a skill—it’s survival. I’ve mastered stretching out a meal, turning a few potatoes into something hearty. But what good is knowing how to cook if most stores don’t stock gluten-free options? If I want to make gluten-free, lactose-free meals for Cyrus and low-sugar meals for me to avoid either of us getting sick, then I have to spend money I don’t have at more expensive stores with more dietary variety. And everything costs more for our different diets. Not to mention that it’s stressful having to worry about what’s in everything we eat. Somebody gave Cyrus food once that they thought was lactose-free, and he was like, oh awesome! So he start eating it, and then I looked at the label and realized how the sauce was made—with dairy milk! You know, so, so stressful.
Cooking tips aside, the other reason I got into volunteering is that I’ve had trouble getting a job—most places either just don’t hire me, or say they can’t make adequate accommodations because of my disability, but I still want to be able to help out. At this point the cooking tips and recipes are just a bonus—what really keeps me coming back is if you volunteer while having a disability yourself, you can better understand what people are going through. Just the other day, a woman visiting the kitchen lost a screw from her walker, and so it kept unlocking. I was able to help her because I have the same walker, and I always keep spare screws in my bag. She was so grateful. Now, whenever she visits the kitchen, she always stops to chat. It’s nice to have that sense of community—especially among others who understand the realities of using a walker.
There are some downsides to volunteering though. Although it warms my heart each time I give back to my community, I’m not eligible to make use of the food or clothing market—I have to buy my stuff instead. I was just complaining to Samira the other day, “When I volunteer, you’d think I’d be allowed to do some shopping, right? Because we have the food market and the clothing? Wrong. I can’t do that. When I’m volunteering, I’m not allowed to use those resources. So it’s a catch-22. You know what I mean?”
That’s why Cyrus has been telling me to look into programs and activities that can give me the skills to take care of my own needs first; then, I can pass what I’ve learned on to others! For example, the FoodFit program I found recently aims to support people who have barriers to healthy eating and physical activity. Their goal is for participants to make changes to their health that they can sustain over a long term. I was telling Cyrus how much I enjoyed it: “the Food Fit program is helping me with just small exercises I can do, as well as being cheap and healthy!” And I can pass that knowledge on to others. At the end of the day, my mind keeps being drawn back to being able to help that lady with the walker who now visits me every week in the kitchen. Nothing can replicate the way those interactions make me feel.
That’s part of the reason I keep encouraging Cyrus to volunteer in addition to his contract work in roofing, so that he can meet new people and make connections. He’s always anxious about putting himself out there because he has a criminal record. But that’s when I say (over and over, it seems) that volunteering gives you a glimpse of the help that you can get for yourself through those new connections. He could meet people in the same situation as him and discover possible next steps. Plenty of people who volunteer have had encounters with the law—it doesn’t define them, and it shouldn’t be a life sentence.
Currently, Cyrus’s roofing work keeps him fairly busy. If you can get the job done well and safely, a lot of contractors will take a chance on people with a record. In fact, a few of Cyrus’s co-workers have records. I guess in that respect I’m happy he finds these jobs, because they’ve made him a little less self-conscious about his record. The only thing is that with roofing and other contract work, there’s no consistency with paycheques. We might have money coming in for a long period of time as Cyrus moves from job to job. But when the weather gets colder, like it is now, people are less eager to start home renovations, and so the paycheques stop. Sometimes I’m able to make money from selling stuff on Kijiji, but it’s not much.
Cyrus doesn’t get insurance through his roofing work, and my unemployment means I have to stay on disability assistance to get insurance coverage for my medications. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about the cost of my walker. With the Assistive Devices Program (ADP) and Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP), it is fully covered. However, at the same time, my ODSP is affected because Cyrus and I are now married, and he can make up to only $200 a month before my ODSP starts to take a hit. If he earns more than $200 in a month, my ODSP support is reduced by 50%. It’s all so complicated—we need to report everything from Cyrus’s pay stubs to expenses like rent and utilities. So, every time Cyrus is between contracts and doesn’t get a paycheque, the amount we put into our earnings report changes. If we miss even one report, our benefits can stop temporarily. Confusing, right? And limiting! I feel like I can’t spend anything or accept any money without looking at my bank account or our benefits portal. What’s also frustrating is that it took me over a year to be accepted into ODSP with all the forms, and communications between me, my case worker, and my doctors.
Cyrus and I argued over whether getting married was worth the financial risks. I wanted to commit fully, but he couldn’t ignore how our ODSP would be affected. I remember the argument perfectly—it was two years ago, in April, and we were out walking in the University of Guelph’s Arboretum. He had suggested the hike because I love gardening and seeing what plants we can possibly grow in my garden that can be used for cooking. The Arboretum is also open to the public, which is great because we don’t have to spend a dime to get in. The afternoon got off to a rocky start because we had to use the bus. I dislike the bus mainly because it’s unreliable and often makes me late for volunteering. Also, whenever I use the priority seating, because of my walker, I feel guilty making people move. But that day I was with Cyrus, and he glared at anyone on the bus who dared to make a face or a comment about me using the priority seating. It’s funny, he’s so self-conscious when it comes to himself, but when it comes to me, he’ll defend me no matter what it takes. It was then that I realized how much I loved this man and how much I wanted to be his partner, under the law and everything.
So, as we were walking between the artfully snipped hedges of the Arboretum, I got down on one knee and asked him to marry me. Unconventional, I know. I didn’t even have a ring, but I knew we could deal with that later. I was more worried about his response. I could tell by his face that he wanted to say yes, but that the effect on my ODSP was his first thought. He brought up the issue of money and how my assistance would be affected if we were officially married. I told him that there’s more to life than money, that for me joy is found in staying socially active, laughing often, being loved, showing love, staying busy, and being financially secure enough not to have to live from paycheque to paycheque. Needless to say, I don’t want to be financially unstable, but we shouldn’t stop ourselves from finding joy in each other because of money.
I guess that’s where we differ, because Cyrus said that for him, living well is having a regular job, and being able to pay your bills and have food on your table. It is also having good mental health and a good eating style. I guess it is true that the way to a man’s heart is his stomach. So we came to a compromise: we would get married, and Cyrus would continue to look for a job to offset the impact on our ODSP. But he’d avoid applying to the jobs that ask for a police check, because of his record.
I think his chances are better now that we’ve moved into the centre of the city, with more people, more job opportunities. We moved there because we thought it would be safer living. Although I loved growing my own plants in a big garden on the property of our old house, I had to acknowledge that as a Black, non-binary, disabled person, the city is a bit safer and more diverse. However, the city has its own issues, like the transit system. Frequently, women have shared with me their experiences of being assaulted on the bus either verbally, physically, or sexually. As a non-binary person that presents as more feminine, I’m constantly looking over my shoulder on the bus. I would take a taxi, but they cost so much more.
Well, the bus is letting me off at my stop now. The ride home today wasn’t too bad, other than the fact that I had my arms full of groceries and my walker. These dumplings better be the best thing Cyrus and I have ever tasted, considering all the effort I’m putting in. I hope Cyrus is home so he can help me start cleaning these potatoes!
