Finding Your Voice (Without Losing Yourself)
Written by Hulya Mehmet, Consultant Speech & Language Therapist
The Day I Found My Voice (By Losing It First)
Picture this: My first advocacy meeting for Derin. Room full of professionals. Me with my notebook, my rehearsed speech, my shaking hands.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Literally nothing.
The educational psychologist said kindly: “Take your time, Mum.”
And I burst into tears. Proper ugly crying. Snot and everything.
You know what? Through those tears, I managed: “He… needs… help. Real help. Not wait and see. Help. Now.”
Not eloquent. Not professional. But it was the truest thing I’d ever said.
They listened. Really listened. Because desperation speaks louder than perfect words.
That’s what I learned: Your voice doesn’t need to be perfect. It needs to be true.
The Five Types of Advocates (Which Are You?)
Type 1: The Midnight Email Warrior
Sarah’s style: Can’t speak in meetings. Writes novels at 2am. Every email perfectly crafted. Gets EVERYTHING in writing.
Her secret weapon: “As discussed in our meeting (see my email dated…), you agreed to…”
Why it works: Paper trail beats memory every time. Professionals can’t deny what’s written.
If this is you: Stop apologising for preferring email. It’s valid advocacy.
Type 2: The Kill-Them-With-Kindness Advocate
Marcus’s approach: Brings homemade cookies. Asks about their kids. Then slides in: “So about that sensory room we discussed…”
His power move: “I know you want what’s best for all children. That’s why I know you’ll help.”
Why it works: Hard to fight someone who’s being lovely. Guilt is a powerful tool.
If this is you: Your niceness isn’t weakness. It’s strategy.
Type 3: The Research Assassin
Priya’s method: Arrives with folders. Colour-coded. Tabbed. “According to the NICE guidelines, paragraph 4.3.2…”
Her favourite phrase: “I’ve done some research…”
Why it works: You can’t argue with someone who knows more than you.
If this is you: Your preparation isn’t obsessive. It’s powerful.
Type 4: The Emotional Truth-Teller
James’s way: “Let me show you a video of bedtime. Then tell me he doesn’t need help.”
His go-to: Raw honesty. Sometimes tears. Always truth.
Why it works: Makes the theoretical real. Hard to dismiss actual suffering.
If this is you: Your emotions aren’t unprofessional. They’re human.
Type 5: The Gentle Bulldozer
My style: Polite. Persistent. Won’t. Go. Away.
My mantra: “I’ll check back next week about this.”
Why it works: Eventually, it’s easier to help than to keep saying no.
If this is you: Your persistence isn’t annoying. It’s love.
The Great British Sorry Translator
What We Say vs What We Should Say
❌ “Sorry to bother you, but…”
✅ “I need five minutes of your time.” (You’re not bothering. You’re parenting.)
❌ “I might be wrong, but…”
✅ “I’ve noticed…” (You live with your child. You’re not wrong.)
❌ “I know you’re busy…”
✅ “When can we talk?” (Their busy isn’t more important than your child.)
❌ “If it’s not too much trouble…”
✅ “My child needs…” (Your child’s needs aren’t trouble. They’re needs.)
❌ “I’m probably overreacting…”
✅ “I’m concerned about…” (You’re not overreacting. You’re reacting.)
❌ “Sorry for emailing again…”
✅ “Following up on my previous email…” (Persistence isn’t rudeness.)
One mum’s breakthrough: “I counted. Said sorry 47 times in one meeting. Next meeting? Set a goal: Under 10. Managed 8. Felt like a revolutionary.”
Scripts That Actually Work (Tested in Real Life)
Opening Moves (Pick Your Fighter)
The Grateful But Firm: “Thanks for your time. Let’s talk about what [child] needs to succeed here.”
The Partnership Approach: “I want us to work together. Here’s what I’m seeing at home…”
The Direct Hit: “Current strategies aren’t working. We need to try something different.”
When They Push Back (They Will)
“All children do that…” “Perhaps, but my child is struggling more than typical. Let me show you how…”
“We don’t have resources…” “What resources would we need? Let’s problem-solve together.”
“Let’s wait and see…” “We’ve been waiting [time period]. What specific changes are we watching for?”
“Have you tried…” [useless suggestion] “Yes, we tried that. Here’s what happened… What else can we explore?”
Closing Strong (Seal the Deal)
The Summary: “So we’ve agreed to [specific action] by [date]. I’ll email to confirm.”
The Follow-Up: “I’ll check back in two weeks to see how it’s going.”
The Paper Trail: “Could you email me those details? I want to make sure I understood correctly.”
The Review: “When shall we meet again to assess progress?”
Building Your Confidence (The Real Way)
Before Battle: Your Prep Kit
Write three things only:
- What my child needs (one sentence)
- Why they need it (one sentence)
- What I want you to do (one sentence)
Example:
- “Jamie needs movement breaks every 30 minutes”
- “Without them, he can’t focus and gets distressed”
- “I need a written plan for implementing this”
That’s it. Not a novel. Three sentences.
Practice (But Not to Perfection)
In the shower: Say your three sentences. Out loud.
To the mirror: Watch yourself say them. You look fine.
To the dog: They won’t judge your delivery.
To a friend: “Can I practice something for 30 seconds?”
Record yourself: Horror at first. Power by fifth attempt.
A dad’s trick: “I practice in the car. Full volume. Windows up. By meeting time, I’ve said it 50 times. Comes out automatic.”
During Battle: Survival Guide
Your Body (It’s Talking Too):
- Plant feet on floor (you’re grounded)
- Unfold arms (you’re open, not defensive)
- Lean forward slightly (you’re engaged)
- Breathe like you’re not dying (fake it)
- Make eye contact (even if brief)
Your Mental Script (On Repeat):
- “I know my child”
- “I belong here”
- “This is love”
- “I can do hard things”
- “Nearly done, nearly done”
When Emotions Ambush You:
If you cry: “Excuse me. This matters deeply to me.” [tissue, breathe, continue]
If you’re angry: “I need a moment.” [count to five, breathe, restart]
If you blank: “Let me check my notes.” [even if notes are “HELP”]
If you’re dismissed: “I need you to hear this.” [repeat main point]
One mum’s wisdom: “I tell them upfront: ‘I might cry. It means I care. I’ll keep talking.’ Takes the power out of it.”
After Battle: Lock It Down
Same Day Email (Template):
“Dear [Name],
Thank you for meeting today about [child]’s needs.
As discussed, you agreed to:
- [Specific action 1] by [date]
- [Specific action 2] by [date]
I’ll follow up on [date] to see how it’s going.
Best regards, [Your name]”
SEND IT. Even if meeting was disaster. Especially then.
Your Filing System:
- Email folder: “[Child] Advocacy”
- Screenshot everything
- Date every note
- Print important emails
- Back up somewhere
One dad’s system: “Photo of every document. WhatsApp to myself. Searchable. Saved my ass multiple times.”
When Everything Goes Wrong (It Will)
True story: Last year, a mum completely forgot her son’s name in an IEP meeting. Brain freeze. Total blank. Room full of professionals waiting.
She laughed. Said: “I’ve forgotten my own child’s name. That’s how stressed I am about getting him help.”
They got him help.
Your voice might:
- Crack like a teenager’s
- Disappear entirely
- Come out as whisper
- Turn into sob
- Sound like stranger’s
Still counts. Still advocacy.
Your brain might:
- Forget everything
- Jumble words
- Go completely blank
- Fixate on wrong detail
- Panic spiral
Still counts. Still advocacy.
You might:
- Say it all wrong
- Cry throughout
- Need seventeen attempts
- Email instead of speaking
- Bring backup human
STILL COUNTS. STILL ADVOCACY.
Your Advocacy Cheat Sheet (Screenshot This)
With Medical Professionals
When they minimise: “I hear you saying it’s common. I’m telling you it’s impacting daily life. What are our options?”
When they delay: “How long exactly is the wait? What can we do meanwhile? Who else could we see?”
When they dismiss: “I’d like a second opinion, please.” (No explanation needed. Your right.)
With School
When they say “no resources”: “Let’s document my child’s needs first. Then work out resources. What would ideal support look like?”
When they blame you: “Let’s focus on supporting [child] at school. What strategies can we try here?”
When they stall: “It’s been [time]. No improvement. We need a formal assessment/support plan now.”
With Family
The guilt-trippers: “I know you love [child]. Right now, love looks like [specific action].”
The deniers: “You don’t have to understand it. Just respect our decisions.”
The fixers: “We’ve got professional support. What we need from you is [specific thing].”
With Strangers
The starers: [Ignore or] “They’re autistic. Having a hard time.”
The advisors: “Thanks. We’re good.”
The judgers: [Smile] “Neurodiversity. Google it.”
Your 30-Day Advocacy Challenge
Week 1: Notice Your Patterns
- Count your “sorries” in one day
- Notice when you make yourself small
- Catch the “I might be wrong but…”
- Just notice. No judgment.
Week 2: Small Practices
- Say “No” to one thing (anything)
- Send one email without “sorry”
- Practice your three sentences daily
- Stand up straighter
Week 3: Real World Baby Steps
- Email teacher one need (short)
- Tell family member one boundary
- Ask for one thing in writing
- Follow up on something
Week 4: The Big One
- Have one actual advocacy conversation
- Use your three sentences
- Don’t apologise for your child’s needs
- Breathe. You did it.
Day 30: Notice
- You survived
- Child still has advocate
- World didn’t end
- You’re different
One mum’s reflection: “Day 1: Apologised 47 times. Day 30: Asked for EHCP assessment without single sorry. Same person. New voice.”
The Truth About Finding Your Voice
It’s not about becoming someone else. It’s about finding the powerful version of you that’s been there all along. Buried under “sorry” and “maybe” and “if it’s not too much trouble.”
Your child doesn’t need a warrior parent (unless you are one). They don’t need a perfect speaker (they don’t exist). They don’t need someone who never cries (robots don’t love).
They need YOU:
- Shaky but showing up
- Quiet but persistent
- Emotional but honest
- Scared but trying
- Human but fierce in love
One Final Story
Remember my ugly crying in that first meeting?
Last month, I led a training for 50 professionals. Someone asked about parent advocacy.
I said: “The most powerful advocates I know are the quiet ones who cry in meetings but keep coming back. The ones who say sorry but then ask anyway. The ones who shake but don’t stop.”
Room full of professionals nodded.
Because truth spoken shakily is still truth. Love spoken quietly is still love. Needs stated imperfectly are still needs.
Your voice – exactly as it is – is what your child needs.
Now go use it.