I’ve lived in Alberta for a long time, navigating life after two strokes and cancer, and living with autism. My daughter is disabled too — she has ADHD and rheumatoid arthritis — and together, we experience the world through
resilience, caution, and a lot of care.
Work has been a lifeline for me. I spent 30 years in IT before my strokes and rebuilt a career as a Content Strategist in AI and SaaS, working remotely. My current employer, Auvik, is supportive, inclusive, and recognizes my value. They get disability. They get neurodiversity. They get that people like me can contribute meaningfully when given the right accommodations. For that, I am grateful every day.
Alberta under Danielle Smith and the UCP is making life harder for disabled people and marginalized communities. Policies are actively harmful to the most vulnerable. At the same time, the government likes to point to people like me and my daughter and say, “See? Anyone can work.” That’s not encouragement — it’s weaponization. Our success is being used to justify cutting supports that many people desperately need.
Then there’s the other side: right-wing people who claim we were never disabled, that we “cheated the system” by leaving programs like AISH or Alberta Supports to work. That’s personal. That’s demoralizing. That’s frustrating as hell. So here we are: damned if we do, damned if we don’t. Our existence is used as political proof and we’re harassed for having survived.
Leaving supports behind wasn’t a casual choice. We left because we found opportunities we could actually do. But now, both political rhetoric and online harassment try to rewrite our reality, erasing the challenges we still face.
Being autistic shapes how I experience the world in ways that make all of this harder. Social environments in Alberta are overwhelming and politically charged. Even vacation can’t feel restful. Disability support groups are
often politicized, leaving little neutral space for conversation or understanding. Because I’m not on AISH or ADAP, I’m sometimes seen as “privileged” and excluded from these spaces. Social media is often the only place I can talk — but it’s exhausting, full of rage, and rarely offers calm, relational support that my neurodivergent brain actually needs.
Even on vacation, work feels safer than my own province. At Auvik, I’m valued, accommodated, and recognized. Outside of work, I’m constantly negotiating my identity, survival, and worth in a hostile environment. The anger, frustration, and grief are real. Watching the government attack disabled people while weaponizing my example, personal attacks from individuals claiming I was never disabled, feels unbearable sometimes. It’s a reminder that the system is not designed to protect everyone — only those deemed convenient or politically useful.
Still, we survive. We work. We care for each other. While Alberta may be hostile now, we continue to plan, hope, and explore options for a safer, healthier future — one where dignity, neurodivergence, and human worth aren’t politicized, and where disabled people can exist without being used as evidence for harm.
This is our reality. It’s messy, exhausting, infuriating — and ours to live and to tell.
Tammy J. Morrison - Writer & IT Guru 