It didn’t begin with a big plan or a major breakthrough. It started with a simple question at the end of a long shift:
“Did you like how today went?”
The answer didn’t come right away. There was a pause, a shrug, and then a quiet, “Yeah… I think so.”
For this DSP, that moment mattered.
Earlier in the day, everything had felt rushed. A change in routine had caused frustration. Voices were raised. Tension lingered longer than anyone wanted. But instead of moving on and calling the day “done,” the DSP sat down and asked the question anyway.
That conversation opened the door.
They talked about what worked and what didn’t. About how being hurried made things harder. About wanting more time to choose instead of being told what came next. None of it was dramatic. All of it was important.
The next day looked different. The DSP slowed the pace. Choices were offered earlier. Expectations were clearer. And the frustration didn’t escalate.
No one outside that home would ever hear about this moment. There was no form for it, no metric to track it, no award attached. But it changed how support was delivered—and how trust was built.
This is what direct support looks like.
It’s not always about big outcomes. It’s about noticing. Listening. Adjusting. Trying again. It’s about conversations that happen when no one is watching and decisions made with respect instead of convenience.
Stories like this happen every day in direct support. They rarely make headlines, but they shape lives in real and lasting ways.
And they are worth telling.
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