Persistence and Possibility

Written By Amber Montevideo

When I think about the work we do at firsthand, I think about the quiet moments that change everything. Not the dramatic ones, but the small shifts. The steady presence. The moment someone who feels invisible begins to believe they matter.

One of those moments came through someone I will call Sherry.

When Sherry came to firsthand, she felt stuck and dependent. She had survived domestic abuse and substance use disorder and was more than eleven years into sobriety. She was living with bipolar disorder, anxiety and other physical health issues. Together, those challenges made it impossible for her to work. She had no income and was living with her elderly parents, relying on them for basic needs.

What shaped her most was not just her history, but her outlook. She felt overlooked. She believed nothing good was ever going to happen to her.

Mary-Margaret, her firsthand Guide (Peer Support Specialist), met her there. Trust was built the way it often is: through persistence. She showed up. She listened. When Sherry slipped into negative self-talk and hopelessness, Mary-Margaret gently redirected her, acknowledging the trauma while reminding her of her creativity, her writing, and the strength it took to remain sober for more than a decade. Over time, Sherry began to believe that someone was not going to walk away.

From the beginning, it was clear that disability benefits were critical to improving Sherry’s quality of life. Without income, everything else remained fragile. As trust grew, herdisability claim became central to the work.

When I stepped in as the SOAR specialist (a case manager specializing in applying for disability benefits), we concentrated on building a strong application. Piecing together records meant gathering documentation that reflected both her mental and physical health challenges. Her history included frequent emergency room visits and significant gaps in specialist follow-up. In the disability process, that pattern can be viewed as non-compliance and may lead Social Security to deny the claim. Our job was to ensure her full medical reality was clearly documented.

Because of this, one consultative exam became especially important, Mary-Margaret accompanied her to provide support, and waited during the exam. She was not allowed in the room, but her presence ensured Sherry walked through the door.

Nearly a year after the claim began – and two weeks following this appointment – she was approved.

She called Social Security to confirm it was real. When it sank in, the shift was immediate. She wrote me a long letter just before Christmas and included photos of presents she had bought for her family. She shared that she could finally afford small necessities like a toothbrush and shampoo. She described the approval as life-changing.

She wrote that having a little money “has made me feel a part of the world” and that the gray clouds of her world had opened and sunshine had filled everything with vivid color.

Soon after, Social Security requested additional records to adjust the onset date of her benefits. I offered to manage it. She told me she thought she could handle getting them herself.

That moment marked the change. The person who once believed nothing good would happen was now confident enough to advocate for herself.

This letter arrived on a difficult day for me. The holidays are not always easy, and reading her words reminded me that this work is never one-sided. Worlds change — hers and mine — from something as simple as being there.