I wanted to share what the LIVESTRONG program at the YMCA of MEWSA has meant to me.

Living with chronic multiple myeloma means constantly trying to find the right balance of strength, energy, and hope. The LIVESTRONG program has been far more than exercise. It has been a lifeline. It is a place where survivors understand one another, where every small win matters, and where healing is recognized as physical, emotional, and mental.

The trainers and staff truly get what we are facing. Their encouragement helps us rebuild trust in our bodies and confidence in ourselves. The connections that form in this program are powerful. They keep you moving forward, even on the days when everything feels heavy.

I am deeply grateful to the YMCA of MEWSA and to everyone who makes this program possible. You are not just helping people get stronger. You are helping us reclaim the parts of our lives that illness tries to take away.

My group has been incredible, as has every member of the staff. And the women in my group are warriors. Their resilience, perseverance, and outlook inspire me every single week.

Thank you for creating a place where healing feels possible.

CLICK HERE TO HEAR MIRANDA'S LIVESTRONG STORY

Angelo enrolled in our after-school program like many children across New Jersey. Within two weeks, our staff began noticing behaviors that were escalating. Instead of removing him from the program, we paused services and asked to meet with his mom so we could better understand his needs.

During that meeting, we learned that Angelo has an autism diagnosis and an IEP that had not been shared at enrollment. His mother believed, understandably, that the services he receives during the school day would simply continue in the afternoon. They do not.

When we reviewed his IEP, the accommodations were clear and reasonable. Staff trained to recognize triggers and intervene early. Structured choices instead of open-ended directions. Peer pairing. Access to sensory supports like headphones and familiar items. Ongoing communication between school and after-school staff.

None of these supports are extraordinary. But they require training, coordination, and in some cases additional staffing.

Our Director of Learning and Engagement trained the team. We developed a special care plan. We connected with his daytime teachers. We adjusted our environment and supervision. We invested the staff hours necessary to get it right.

And it worked. Angelo stabilized. He began to succeed in our program. His mother later expressed that for the first time, she felt peace of mind leaving him in care so she could work.

That peace of mind is what allows families to stay employed and contribute to our economy.

Some families are able to access additional therapeutic services through outside agencies, but that often requires insurance coverage. Not all families have insurance, and not all plans cover the level of support a child may need. When coverage is denied or limited, the gap does not disappear. It lands on community-based programs like ours.

Whether it is one-to-one support, specialized training, or environmental modifications to meet a range of needs, inclusion carries real costs.

We believe children like Angelo belong in our programs. Inclusion should not depend on a family’s insurance plan.

If we want working families to thrive and children with special needs to access high-quality care beyond the school day, funding must reflect the true cost of inclusion. Sustainable financial support would allow organizations like the YMCA to continue standing in that gap without putting the stability of the program at risk.

Angelo’s story is not unique. That is why it matters.

Every fall, a new wave of 6th graders walks from Conackamack Middle School to the YPCC. For many, these after school visits are their first real moments of independence. What should feel exciting often becomes overwhelming. They are connected to each other through their phones, yet they can feel completely alone while standing in a crowded gym or lounge. The world has never been more connected electronically, but face to face interaction is still a challenge for a lot of young teens.

Seeing this struggle year after year, the YPCC started the Teen Squad mentorship program. Local teachers recommend young adults who have shown leadership, kindness, and patience. Each new Teen Squad member works with staff and experienced mentors who helps them learn how to support the younger students.

When the new 6th graders arrive, many feel out of place. Some make poor choices as they try to fit in. Then something meaningful happens. They discover that the Y wants them here. Staff and Teen Squad mentors help them start conversations, try new activities, and build real confidence. Small wins turn into big steps.

Now in its fourth year, the program has come full circle. Some of those first nervous 6th graders are leading interactions, guiding peers, and modeling the values of the Y. Watching them step into leadership and hold others to the standards of care, respect, and responsibility is a humbling reminder of why the Y matters.

The Teen Squad began as a simple idea. It became a powerful way to fight social isolation and help young people feel seen, supported, and connected.