Irish Sunday Mirror

I fought hard to be seen as equal but this Government doesn’t think about people like me..now I just feel WORTH

KAYLEIGH STRUGGLES TO FIND HOME

- BY MICHELLE FLEMING News@irishmirro­r.ie

ON the inside of disability activist Kayleigh Mckevitt’s right arm is a tattoo of DC comic book character Harley Quinn. “Her character – apart from the crazy – embodies a strong independen­t woman who can stand on her own,” says the 28-year-old.

Kayleigh – who was born with cerebral palsy – is also a fiercely independen­t woman.

But now, she says: “I feel trapped – I feel like I’m in a fish bowl.”

Kayleigh left home in Walkinstow­n, South Dublin, after she secured an 18-month lease on one of six rare “transition­al” independen­t living flats, in an annexe off the Irish Wheelchair Associatio­n’s campus in Clontarf.

It was supposed to be her first step on the road to independen­ce.

But as the housing crisis rages on, there is simply nowhere for Kayleigh to move on to.

She said: “It’s supposed to be only transition­al housing to get you used to living on your own so we can move forward with our lives but I’m still there five years later – I’m so isolated.

“This is institutio­nalised living. I feel like I’ve been dumped here. I want to integrate back into the community and be near family and friends but there’s nowhere for me to go.

“With the housing crisis, it gets bleaker every day. I always fought so hard to be seen as equal but the Government doesn’t think about people like me. I feel worthless.”

After 15 years at a special needs school, Kayleigh pushed to join mainstream for her secondary education.

She did her Junior Cert and Leaving Cert and studied radio and journalism at Ballyfermo­t College of Further Education.

Kayleigh still dreams of “making it” in radio journalism – but for now, her dreams are on hold because nowadays, she spends all of her time trying to get her basic needs met.

“I never intended being stuck here,” continues Kayleigh, whose passions are written large on her walls, where she’s hung photo collages of family and friends next to paintings by her favourite Aboriginal artists.

In her bedroom are framed prints of Harley Quinn and the Joker and her desk is piled high with books; she’s got

Can I Say by Travis Barker on the go at the moment.

She loves U2, Justin Bieber and Machine Gun Kelly and has tickets to see Busted, JLS and S Club 7 in October.

Kayleigh stresses she doesn’t want handouts.

She pays a portion of her disability allowance towards her rent every week and pays for all her heating, TV, internet and food shopping bills.

The soaring cost of living means she now shops for groceries daily instead of doing a weekly shop. Kayleigh added: “Yes, I know some people need an environmen­t like this to feel safe but I can live in the community. I feel trapped here. I have a physical issue and need some assistance but otherwise, I’m fine.”

She has written a number of letters to Dublin City Council asking to be put on a priority housing list for a home closer to family and friends so she’s not so isolated.

Kayleigh said: “I wrote a letter to the council a month ago outlining the impact being so isolated is having on my mental health. I’d love to be somewhere I feel safe and if the care package lets me down, I know I have support nearby.

Ididn’t even get an acknowledg­ement. That reaffirms for me I don’t matter enough for them to even respond to me. “Visiting my granny or my dad I need to go into the village and get a bus into town and then a Luas, “said Kayleigh, who lights up when her cousin Chloe pulls into the drive with her kids. She wheels over to the press to fish out two Wispa Easter eggs for her sons Kyle, six and CJ, four. A “personal assistant” visits Kayleigh to help with her morning and evening routines.

She added: “They’re my PA – I don’t like to say carers as it implies I need to be taken care of but I don’t – I need some assistance.”

But Kayleigh is also a casualty of Ireland’s homecare crisis.

Care assistants leaving in their droves because of bad pay and conditions at a time when demand is soaring mean people like Kayleigh can’t access “social” hours, enabling

This is institutio­nalised living. I feel like I’ve been dumped here. I want to integrate back into the community

them to live more independen­t lives. She said: “Trying to get my needs met is a full-time job. I have my friend Paddy Burke, the IWA co-ordinator, and I love him. He can’t do enough for me. He brings me to counsellin­g and helps me out a lot but mostly I’m on my own.”

Kayleigh left her family home after it became overcrowde­d when the housing crisis meant her sister and kids had to move home too.

She added: “I wanted to be independen­t – and I wanted to help my mam.

She was only 19 when she had me and found it tough adapting to a child with disabiliti­es when my sister was only a toddler too. Kayleigh added: “It was very hard on her as a young mother. I believe in the saying, ‘We are not disabled – society disables us’. I’m at my wits’ end wondering will I be trapped here for two years – five years?

“The council says there’s nothing available and I hold out hope but it gets bleaker every day for me.

“I want to move forward in life and make new goals and memories where I feel secure. I would like to look into the future, maybe have relationsh­ips, but that takes time. Dating would be nice...”

Kayleigh shows off her other tattoos of a rose, a spider with a squirrel’s head and a feather with an owl’s face – but Harley Quinn is her favourite.

She said: “She embodies everything I want to be. Her character is crazy but sometimes you need to be a bit crazy for people to take you seriously.”

 ?? ?? TRANSITION­AL Kayleigh at her independen­t flat
TRANSITION­AL Kayleigh at her independen­t flat
 ?? ?? FEELING TRAPPED Kayliegh Mckevitt in her ‘transition­al’ living flat
FEELING TRAPPED Kayliegh Mckevitt in her ‘transition­al’ living flat

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