Finding The (Invisible) Line: Ten Years And Counting

Many are already aware of the fact that I don't talk (or even write) about having Cerebral Palsy very much. I've told myself that I don't want to be the postergirl for the handicapped, nor do I want it to be the main thing that defines who I am. I kept convincing myself that for that reason, there was no need to bring it up and openly discuss it. But after reading an article on The Huffington Post, I began to realize that when it comes to disabilities (whether they're physical or otherwise), the media often shows only one side of the story: sometimes it's completely cast it a negative light, and other times it's dripping with optimism and a happy-go-lucky vibe. And while I'm all for being positive, I find it troublesome when that's all that gets highlighted because it doesn't tell the whole story. Granted, not all news articles and segments have time for the big picture, but I think it would be more helpful in public understanding if both sides of the coin were displayed.

This is not a public service announcement. This is not a pity-party. This is me realizing that while I refuse to lean on having a handicap as a crutch, it has and still does affect me. This is true in both good ways and bad ways. But rather than write this as a laundry list, my hope is that this might encourage and educate people about celebrating differences and doing the absolute best that you can in whatever obstacles or setbacks that you have to face.

I say ten years because it was around the age of eleven or twelve that I became fully aware that I wasn't exactly like my peers. Before then I had a pretty idyllic childhood,where life consisted of Disney movies, hanging out with friends and family, and just being happy. Then very slowly, reality began to creep in, and it was a tough adjustment.

It was a chain of events, and many of them from that time I can't recall in specific detail. What I do remember was how it felt; like a black cloud settling over my head, especially when I started to learn that the world (and the people in it) are not always kind. I heard the word "confidence" a lot while having absolutely no idea what it meant.  I couldn't understand the point of riding a separate bus when I physically had no problems in terms of getting on and off of it. It was all new and strange and I was completely naive throughout all of it.

Back then, I desperately wished to be valued and validated, and to be reassured that I was enough. My mother once explained to me not too long ago that she was never angry or frustrated with me, per say, but more so that she couldn't do anything to make it all better. And while on the surface it looked like I was begging for it, I just wanted to be told that it was OK to feel hurt, sad, and/or lonely. On the other side of the fence, it's easy to sit next to your child, friend, etc and automatically want to solve whatever problem they're dealing with. It's natural to want to take the pain away. The toughest part is that you can't. You can only support them and be open to what they need. That might look like putting your arms around them and letting them vent, regardless of how ridiculous they sound or how trivial the situation is. it's not about being strong or being a hero; it's about being there.

For those who believe that self esteem doesn't exist, think about what it would be like to have your peers, probably strangers who don't even know you, call you a variety of nasty names or tell you that your legs need to be fixed. Imagine the hopelessness inside of you when you feel the urge to take a razor blade to your wrist or pop a bunch of pills because there seems to be no end in sight. Feel the sting when you're repeatedly told or shown (whether it be on purpose or not) that you're unlovable. And all you can muster is a barely audible "what did I do wrong? I never meant to hurt anybody." And this is all happening when you're just thirteen.

Though I often took it for granted, there were a lot of people who took care of me throughout middle school and high school. My brother stood up for me a lot and I had a number of friends who were willing to hand out an ass kicking or a shoulder to lean on if need be. For where I was at in my life, my church family was amazing, and many are still guiding me today. Allowing a space for a sense of faith and spiritual nourishment has proven to be necessary, though it would take me almost nine years to grasp what that all meant. My teachers and mentors were all very encouraging.

I had been physically defying the odds since the day I was born, but my senior year of high school was a turning point. When I expressed interest in going to Iowa, most of them thought I was crazy. You're not going to last a semester, some said. You're going to get lost and will be a number, argued others. Yet I had spent the last eighteen years being told what I was and wasn't capable of, and I was ready to go in a different direction. Plus I just had this peculiar feeling that it was a place that was meant for me, which I now know is true

Leaving home my freshman year was like breaking out of a cage; I had both my independence and the opportunity to be somebody completely different then in the past. Walking around campus took some getting used to, where my legs would ache from the mileage and I'd remind myself that I was getting "sexy calf muscles." On top of that I hardly got any sleep due to not  want to miss out on any of the excitement. The first two weeks of school,  kept going and going until I was literally sick from physical exhaustion. I'd only opened up to a few people about what I had and why, though others were starting to notice that something was going on.

Over the years, I would repeatedly run into a brick wall whenever I failed to take care of myself.  When I did Dance Marathon sophomore year, I physically passed out because my body couldn't handle being in motion (let alone being awake) for twenty-four hours straight. I have no idea how I was able to go out almost every weekend after I turned twenty-one, and more so drink as much as I did without getting alcohol poisoning. Being stubborn has been a trait of mine since infancy; if I'm that determined to do something, I won't stop until I accomplish it. That being said, if I feel that I'm not ready, I won't let anyone convince me otherwise.

 Navigating the party culture was another obstacle. In the beginning (and for part of junior year) I wanted to run around and be wild. I was curious, hungry to do everything and feel everything. Yet there were a lot of assumptions made (again) regarding my ability to handle it, and that created some tension between my new friends and I for a while. There were those who didn't get it, and instead of not caring about what people thought or said, I felt like I had something to prove. While I have some natural independence and have always been a bit of a fighter, I did adopt somewhat of a tough girl, you-don't-mess-with-me attitude. I didn't want acquaintances to assume that just because I looked sweet and friendly on the outside meant that I could be easily taken advantage of. In other respects I started to get defensive about my thoughts and feelings, sometimes doing whatever I could to keep that part of me hidden. I wasn't trying to be someone that I wasn't, I just hated wrestling with one side versus the other.

I used to think that I was angry at God for making me the way that I am, both physically and emotionally. Had I not been born prematurely, maybe things would be different; I might have had more experience in certain regards, especially with relationships. I would be able to give as much as I take and not feel useless when it comes to helping others. As I've gotten older, I see that it's it's not God that I get pissed off at, but the ignorance of the culture that we live in. There are more opportunities now than there ever have been to go out and educate yourself, whether it be by research or just talking to someone that has to cope with whatever you don't understand. And yet it seems like hardly anyone does. I know this because I constantly run into strangers where the first thing out of their mouths is "oh my god you're so short!" Sometimes I ask why being petite is such a big deal, and sometimes I try to explain that it's because I was born prematurely. Feel free to chalk it up to not having a filter (or being drunk) but that doesn't make it any less annoying.

I've found that the best way to live in spite of all that is to learn how to truly value myself as my own person. I've wrestled with self-love for the last decade because I thought it meant becoming narcissistic or acting like I was better than others. I don't like the idea of making a list of traits or qualities because those things are always changing or evolving. My strengths, weaknesses, and passions may not be the same tomorrow as they are today. It was not a question of what to do, but how to go about doing it.

And then just recently, I came across something from a friend that put it in perspective.He's a good person who is very genuine and has a good heart. This was not directed at me personally, but it had such a profound effect that it moved me to tears:

Remember God your creator thinks of you as his masterpiece and has great plans and purposes for your life, even today. Live this day with confidence knowing that! As we encounter people in our lives today, help us to look beyond their outward appearance. Help us to love and believe the best about them. 

I don't know why it brought out so much emotion in me; perhaps it has to do with something so cliche being presented in a way that's so simple and yet still very beautiful. Love does not have to involve a million different reasons. Value does not have to involve a million dollars. Identity does not have to be about a million different opinions. It all boils down to being human, but also being a creation of God. And in the moments when even those don't seem convincing, sometimes loving yourself might just be the act of taking a step backward and to stop trying so hard, at least beyond what you know you're capable of. The bare definition of self-love is self-compassion.

As I'm just a few months away from graduation, I'm now coming to another crossroads, which is both scary and overwhelming. When you're on the edge of what truly is the rest of your life, you realize that your decisions do have consequences, and what you decide can either set the course or ruin it. There is no specific set of circumstances that allow you to start over, such as going to high school or college. You have to be the one to make things happen for yourself and create your own opportunities. God does have a hand in it, but that doesn't mean you have to become a sitting duck and let amazing possibilities pass you by. Ask, seek, and be proactive.

I'm not overly worried about the future or am trying to plan this next chapter out to the letter. However, I have witnessed friends and family make second choice decisions because they were either afraid of getting hurt or believed that they were doing the right thing. I'm not in their shoes so I'm not going to fault them, but I see the unhappiness and I see the regret. I don't want to look back five years to a decade from now and experience those feelings, which is why I have to be honest with myself about how having CP will play a role as I go out into the real world. In college it's one thing to brush it aside because people are so close together and can lend a hand if I need any help. Outside of that, it's a different story. 

As much as I'd like to believe otherwise, my physical circumstances will partially determine what kind of job I'll have and where I'll end up living. It has and continues to help shape my standards for relationships and what goes on in the context of those relationships. I need people around me who will encourage me to be the best that I can be, but also who will understand that I do get frustrated and am critical of myself at times. It definitely relates to how much time and energy I can put into projects or commitments. To clarify, none of this is about fear or taking the easy way out. It's about being self-aware and pursuing what I truly want, while also being realistic. And it's not just solely about what I want, but what I need as well.

Which is why I try not to dwell on being an inspiration; I'm not going to proclaim whether or not I'm a role model  because I can't control how people see me. I do still wrestle with depression, though I now accept that I'm allowed to have both good days and bad days. Sometimes I wish that I could conceal my emotions better or not be so sensitive. What I've been through on the outside does correlate with how I treat others and how I react to specific circumstances.

 I would much rather be an example of love, kindness, and putting good back into the world than what I'm able to accomplish with physical strength or perseverance. I know that I am a light, but hopefully not an idol or an expectation to live up to. But ultimately if my words and my actions push or motivate somebody, then so be it. As long as it has a positive impact, then that's what matters the most.

One of the biggest blessings to come out of the last ten years is that I've become very intuitive and self-aware. I love that I'm quirky and still look at life with childlike wonder, but have the ability to retain a lot of wisdom and have grown in maturity because of that. I definitely pay attention to detail and and have begun to stop caring about how cheesy it is to be able to remember the most random things. A lot of that has come from having to watch what goes on instead of actively participating, especially as a kid. It all made my feel isolated for a long time, but I've come to appreciate it in the long run.

I've come a long way, but there is so much more to do. I am beyond grateful for the people that have helped me get to where I am in this moment, the friends and family who've seen past the surface and just let me be "Al." I feel more connected to my parents, particularly my mom, who I haven't always seen eye to eye with. I don't know what this next chapter in my story, but I plan on going into it with my eyes, arms, and heart wide open. 

I won't say that I'm lucky, because I don't really believe in luck. Rather, I'm blessed; my life is a gift, and I don't intend on wasting it.

photo credit: happykiddo via photopin cc

Stream Of Consciousness: Miracle(s)

It is  my twentieth birthday; as of today, I will no longer be considered a teenager, or a child, for that matter. I can look in the mirror and officially say that I am both an adult and a woman.


And while the definition of "adult" can be argued, I must say that being twenty is still somewhat flabbergasting. For many years, I could only dream about what this particular stage of my life would be like. I always wanted to be older, for a variety of reasons. And now that I am, I have to say that I feel like I can genuinely enjoy right where I'm at. No, I don't miss being particularly young, but I'm not in a mad rush to go forward, either.


I realize that as far as our society is concerned, twenty is not a huge age. My friend once described it as sort of a tease; simply because you can do just about everything except legally drink. But when it comes to my own personal experiences, I would definitely say that this is an incredible feat; not only a milestone, but a genuine miracle.


For those not familiar with the story of my birth, I was basically born a premature baby and spent about four months in the NICU. In the early nineties, most newborns in those circumstances were predicted not to survive for very long, if at all. And even if they did live, doctors would spout out a list of do's and don'ts. I've never asked my parents if they were subjected to such. However, I'm pretty sure that the expectations weren't very high.


Cliche as it may be, I have proved them wrong. Dead wrong. And it's not over yet.


The miracle is not just about physical capabilities, but emotional ones too. I don't usually speak of this, but there was a time (well, more like several times) where I was ready to give up. I was convinced that I had been forever changed by the negativity and pain that I had endured previously; that my life was meant to be devoid of truly meaningful relationships, especially with my family. I hate saying this, but I had begun to prepare myself to live life completely on my own.


And in these last few months, I have both learned and seen that we're not made for that, nor are we meant for it. I am beyond grateful to God for giving me both the willpower and the courage to face the demons that I had been running from for a very long time.


I'm not going to predict where I'll be in how many years down the road; I find true joy in taking each day as it comes and being present in the current moment. I do have goals and aspirations, but a lot of them were previously discussed in my December and January posts.


However, if there is one thing that I can hope that my twenties will be defined by, it's that I will be able to allow my personality and heart to shine. I say this because the majority of my tween and teen years were dominated what other people thought of me; I was constantly trying to live up to various pieces of advice and expectations, and none of it ended up doing me any good. I am now in a place where I can say that I absolutely love and appreciate myself, and I don't want anyone else's views to hinder that.


I have come so incredibly far in life, and something tells me this particular journey has only just begun.

The Only Voice

Living with Cerebral Palsy, self-esteem and I weren't always the very best of friends. Around the time I was ten years old, I became somewhat aware of the fact that I was different. It mostly stemmed from being sent to talk to the social worker in elementary school, who explained that I needed to work on "liking myself" and my social skills. At that age I spent quite a bit of time partaking activities either somewhat or completely alone, and apparently that was considered not to be a good thing. It was at that time where I started to wonder if something was indefinitely wrong with me.


Junior high often made me feel trapped in a superficial bubble. Girls plastered on layers of make-up and made it look professional. Many wore Holister and Abercrombie like it was the school uniform. The common question or topic among friend was who was "going out" with whom. And none of it really mattered to me until the rumors about me started to fly and the comments on the internet got nastier by the day. According to whomever wrote those words, I was ugly and my legs needed to be fixed, among other things. 


And though I tried to act as if I didn't care, those words haunted me on a regular basis. I became extremely angry, and that anger would eventually manifest itself into a depressive state. I hated myself for not being strong enough to rise above all the bullshit that was going on. And I even hated God for creating me with a handicap; at the time I believed that if I didn't have it, none of this stuff would be happening. 


But that's not to say that there weren't any high moments; once I began attending church and youth group activities, my confidence rose ever so slightly. I was surrounded by people that genuinely cared for me, and I began to build a spiritual foundation that I had hoped would be the answer to what I was searching for. 


Yet, I was still fighting a battle on the inside; a battle to let go of my previous negative experiences and move forward. It continued into high school, where I frequently compared myself to my own friends because they appeared to have it all together while I was still a complete mess. There was also a bit of envy there because they either were in relationships or got a lot of attention from the guys. I, on the other hand, felt like a wallflower; watching, but never accomplishing anything. 


I did go to counseling several times, neither of which yielded positive results. I felt as though most of the adults in my life were telling me to completely change who I was, and that aggravated the crap out of me. I didn't get it at the time, but they weren't necessarily telling me that I needed to change; rather, it was my attitude that was the problem. 


Starting my freshman year of college, I decided that I no longer wanted to be that insecure girl that had taken over my life for almost a decade. I wanted to "get my head out of the sandbox" as I called it, and go explore what else was out there. However, I was extremely niave; I had been told that I would have to occasionally deal with bitchy girls and guys that only wanted to have sex;  but for the most part, I believed that people would be mature and more accepting. 


Unfortunately, I was in for a rude awakening. At first everything went smoothly; I was meeting people and socializing a lot. I didn't have to explain myself at all. But eventually, the differences started to show, both in me and those that I surrounded myself with. People made judgments against me based on pure speculation. Words meant one thing, while actions displayed something entirely different


It was all very much an emotional roller-coaster; I had to break down several times in order to stop being stubborn and actually get the right kind of help. And by "right", I mean someone that was willing to hear what I had to say instead of shoving advice down my throat.


From talking with a therapist, I now see many of the patterns that I had created over the years; among  them, I was very much dependent on someone or something to make it all better, and to ultimately heal; I often glossed over or completely swept my problems under the rug, as opposed to working through them.  How I saw myself was very much based not just on how others saw me, but from my personal experiences and mistakes that I had made. 


I've learned that the biggest issue with confidence in general isn't self-hatred, but not wanting to appear to be egotistical or arrogant. Nobody wants to be around a person who is negative all the time, nor do they want to be around those that think they're God's gift to whomever. 


It really isn't all that complicated or difficult; the way I see it, you don't always have to have a specific reason for thinking or feeling a certain way. And not just that, but you can't fully live out what you do for others unless you're willing to do the same for yourself. 


Like everyone else, I believe that I am worth taking the time to get to know, and that my story is worth telling. I am beautiful not just because of my skin, but because of what I hold in my heart. There are a lot of qualities that may set me apart from others, but are benefiting me in ways that I may not see or understand at the moment. I am strong and I know how to persevere. I have fallen, but have always will find a way to get back up. 


In terms of the voices one hears (commonly called an "inner critic") I don't think there is a way to completely get it to shut up. Whether it be your own internal voice or someone else's, you will always do and say things that will draw criticism. The key is how you hear that voice. 


For example, my brother often likes to tell me what I am and am not physically able to do. He didn't think I would get through my first semester at college, and that really bothered me. These days, regardless if he is intentionally trying to put me down or not, I see it as a way to motivate myself. Nine times out of ten, I always end up doing something that I never thought I could. 


I have made a lot of progress, but I still do struggle. Due to the mild nature of my physical condition, I do my best to live my life as though I don't have it. I push myself frequently, at times almost to the point of exhaustion. I have to remind myself that it isn't about picking a "side" but doing what is ultimately best for me, even if it makes me look weak. 


It is all very much a daily process; I know that I don't wake up every day, fully appreciating who I am and how I got here. It takes a lot of accountability, which is why I say that I am not proud, but humbled; I would not be where I currently am without love, support, and faith. When someone compliments me, I simply say thank you and try to compliment them in return. 


Each of us is responsible for what we put out into the world, and that energy will ultimately come back to us as some point. I can't predict what obstacles I will face in the future or what path I'll take, but I do know this: regardless of what anyone says, I am good enough and I am worth it. Maybe that won't always be true in the eyes of some, but that's OK. No matter what I do, people will see me how they choose to see me. The only person that I am in control of is myself. And the one voice I will chose to listen to is my own.

And So It Is

Day 18-Letting Go


Who or what did you let go of this year? How has it made a difference in your life so far?


I don't want to call it letting go, because it was something that I had already done the previous year. Actually, I'd let go at least three or four different times; it was more of an acceptance of the way things are right now. Then again, I'd rather not say that I had "accepted" anything because it seems like acceptance is more or less a way of giving up; and I'm not the kind of person to give up easily. Acceptance should also come with peace, which is something that I feel on certain days, and not so much on others.


Please know that I am not attempting to make this a pity party; I am trying to get into the habit of simply being authentic and genuine with anyone who reads this, for reasons that I'll elaborate on at another time. This is not exactly a happy go lucky post, but one of choosing to face reaility.


This past Sunday, one of the speakers at my church chose to give a message about God's healing power and living with various types of disabilities. It spoke volumes to me and hit incredibly close to home. One of the things that she pointed out was that there comes a time when eventually it is no longer about physicality, but rather about trying to move beyond the social stigmas and live a normal life.


That's exactly right! I thought to myself.


I thought about how yesterday I discussed my feeling the need to prove something. Deep down, the one thing that I have wanted to prove is that having Cerebral Palsy at this point in my life does not affect me; that walking five and a half blocks to school does not make me tired. That I can do my hair and make-up within a span of under and hour and not have to worry about messing it all up. That it doesn't place somewhat of a role in the relationships that I have in my life: that it is partially the reason why some choose to be in my life and others don't. 


But the truth is, it does. Maybe not every single day and not all of the time, but there are definitely moments when it becomes the pink elephant in the room; knowing that I'm not exactly like most people, but not wanting to press any further. I couldn't tell you the reason, other than it's a possibility that they don't want to come across as offensive. Or they just don't care. 


The other point she brought up had to do with a bishop for the Church of England; I can't recall exactly what he had, but it was something that confined him to a wheelchair. In any case, he was pastoring at a church where after the service, a member of the congregation approached him and said "I'm sorry that you're suffering." 


The man looked at him and said, "It's not my condition that I suffer from, it's from people like you." 


Whoa. That pretty much sums up my line of thinking right there!


I realize that one cannot control what another person thinks; but let me tell you, the amount of judgement and ignorance in the world today makes my blood boil. I'll never understand the difficulty in trying to get to know someone. I'll never understand the point of taking pity on someone from afar; if you honestly feel that bad, go talk to that person. You don't have know everything about them, but just talk to them.


 That's partially the reason why I don't outright tell a person that I am mildly handicapped when I first meet them. I want them to first off know me for my heart and personality, not my body. 


Although I have long since stopped wanting to completely rid myself of CP, I occasionally wonder what life would be like if I didn't have it: would I have accomplished more by now? Would I know any different? Would I think differently? Would my friends and family view me the same way? The possibilities are endless, although I don't like to spend a lot of time speculating because those are questions that will most likely go unanswered. 


That is where acceptance comes in; accepting that no matter what phase of life I am in, there will always be obstacles to get over, doubts to silence, and frequent tests of whether or not I believe in myself. It will not get any easier, but that does not mean it is impossible, either. 


I usually am not one to get upset or somber over this topic, especially if there is little that can be done except to persevere. Yet, I do have my moments where I find myself contemplating my circumstances and what I can do to become stronger. Sometimes I think that if I don't give thanks and count my blessings, it will all be taken away from me. I am blessed to have been where I've been, and somehow still be standing. 


I accept that I am who I am. That I am strong. And that whatever I encounter in the future, I will only become better and stronger because of it. 

Rising Up And Above

Day 17-Fear


The easiest way to overcome fear is to confront it. Rather than brainstorming reasons to avoid your "fear" shift your attention to reasons for confronting your fear. What fear would you like to overcome in 2012?


Awhile back I was having an extremely hectic week; the main reason was an ever-present question that kept wrecking havoc on my brain. Where am I going with my life?


Now before I continue, I'm sure this is a completely normal question for anyone my age to ask. At some point, everyone will and does ask it. But for a person who almost always has a vision in mind, along with a way to make that vision happen, it was daunting. I felt stuck and was frequently crying tears of frustration. 


Which leads me to my first fear: I am afraid of not accomplishing anything; of still being stuck in the same place that I currently am in as of right now. Or moving forward, yet not really going anywhere. Does that make sense? 


I guess it stems from my overall experience in 2011; for most of the year I believed that I had come out of this shell that I'd been hiding in since I first started high school. I eventually realized that I had been "happy" for all the wrong reasons. When reality finally set in, I felt as though I had take one step forward and two steps back.


A part of me thinks that there isn't really a way to "confront" this fear, because I'm not scared of what could happen. Rather, I'm scared of what might not happen. And the only way to get somewhere (or anywhere, for that matter) is to start walking; even if it's just little baby steps at first. 


That means having a specific something in mind that I want to do; something that is realistic, where I can actually make it happen. In these past couple of weeks I've thought about my writing career and what I genuinely want to do with it. I always envisioned myself waiting until after I finished college so that I could enjoy the whole experience of being a college student. Yet I've noticed that if you don't start at least trying your hand somewhat early before you get out into the real world, you're stuck with a dead end job trying to pay the bills and the mild hope of ever getting into the business. I don't quite know how I'm going to go about it just yet, but I'll discuss it more once I have an idea.


Another thing is being patient, along not being myself up over what I haven't done or haven't had the chance to do. It is true when others say that our own worst critics, and worst enemies are ourselves. While I may not have done a whole lot this year in terms of what I am passionate about, I have made great emotional strides and am learning how to better deal with various aspects of my own life. 


So while it's important to strive to be the best you can be, it's also good to know when to give yourself credit and celebrate your victories, regardless of how small they may be.


My second fear is that I will become almost too independent for my own good, as well as for the wrong reasons. I'll admit that for the last couple of years, I have chosen to do things by myself as a way of proving something to people. In 2011, I kept a lot of crap to myself in order to prove that I wasn't making any mistakes or hadn't already. I wanted to prove that being a college student wasn't harder than I initially anticipated it to be. 


While I think I've been doing a lot better with being open and honest about what's going on in my life, but there are still a few roadblocks to get past. For instance, I still don't like the idea of other people taking care of me, especially at this point in my life. While I was (and still am) the oldest child in my immediate family, I often feel like the roles get reversed due to my physical setbacks. My struggles during my freshman year only intensified that need to be independent, and to show the rest of the world that I was perfectly capable of doing so. 


But the world's way of living life isn't always the right way. In this case, it's supposedly better to be alone and completely rely on your own person. On the other hand, human nature almost always tends to go against that. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for the amount of love, prayers and support that I've received. 


And when it comes to any kind of relationship, one has to know how to receive as well as to give. It's not like I'm expecting anyone to hold my hand or to be at my beck and call; but I do like knowing that there are those who are willing to walking with me, and who are rooting for me to succeed in whatever I do. 


So when a friend or family member offers to do something for me, I need to stop being so stubborn and learn to accept that help. It's not just about needing, but allowing others to feel needed as well.


The only way to get over a fear isn't just to face it, but to know how to face it in the best way.

From There To Here

Day 14-Marvel


What have you done well in over the past year-the little stuff and the big stuff?


It's amazing how close to a year has passed, and yet it feels like it has been a lot longer than that. When I look back on where I was at this particular time in 2010, I marvel at how much has changed. I marvel at how much I have changed. And I am grateful; beyond grateful, actually, and filled with joy. 


I consider myself having done very well in this incredibly long adjustment period; that is, adjusting to life in college, life in renting an apartment, and learning how to pave my own way. In other words, I'm not getting caught up in all the what-if's and the trials that have come with those adjustments. Instead, I am taking notice of all the beauty around me: my school, the people, and the small treasures hidden within each and every day. I am soaking it up like a sponge, determined not to miss a moment. 


I also feel like I have learned how to manage living with Cerebral Palsy, especially since I am getting older. It is something that is still a part of my life and something that I still have to be considerate of. But I have slowly been putting on the back-burner and instead allowing my personal self to shine, as opposed to just my physical self. I have gained quite a bit of muscle and kept off the weight from having to walk six blocks to class almost every day. In what many might view as a curse, I view as a beautiful blessing. 


To celebrate, I just allow myself to be happy. To smile until my face hurts, without worrying whether or not I look like a complete dork when I'm around other people. I'm laughing constantly, sometimes to the point where I think I might just pass out. 


I've also been spontaneous; I've treated myself to frozen yogurt when it's forty degrees out (or below). I sometimes like to dress myself up for class, rather than just wearing sweatpants or a t-shirt. I plug in my ipod and dance around the room, regardless if my roommate walks in on me or not. I try to celebrate these things somehow, at least once a day. 


With that, I will share this quote that I wrote in my journal awhile back. The entire thing doesn't completely relate to this post, but I'll put the whole thing anyway so that it makes sense.


Maybe it's not about having people accept us for who we are, but learning how to accept and love ourselves. Maybe the challenge isn't "getting there" but truly enjoying the process of getting there. And maybe we shouldn't always try to "figure it out", but rather allow the answers to reveal themselves to us in their own time.

Surprised, Much?

Day 5-Surprise

I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, if we follow the truth, it will bring us out safe at last. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Think of a time when you didn’t think you were capable of doing something, but then surprised yourself.  How will you surprise yourself this week?

When I read this topic for the first time, I scratched my head trying to think of something to write about. There are so many things that have happened and so many things that I have done, where I have come out of it thinking Did I really just do/say that? to where it's almost impossible to pick just one. But then I read it again, and that it dawned on me: my entire life has been filled to the brim with endless surprises; it has been that way since the day I was born, and probably will be until the day that I die. 

When I was an infant, the doctors were extremely skeptical that I would survive. At that time, most babies who were born as prematurely as I was didn't live very long. It took about four months worth of hospital stays, tubes of medicine and plenty of kicking and screaming, but I did come home a happy and healthy little girl. 

A year later, I was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy. My parents were given a list of physical tasks that I supposedly would never be able to do. The main ones took a little motivation from the arrival of my brother, but I did it. I went on to play various sports, win a gold medal and graduate from high school. 

Nearly twenty years after that, not many people thought I would go away to college. They expected me to stick around locally, or a small private school at best. But I had bigger dreams than that; I would be damned if I allowed physicality, or even finances to keep me from doing what I felt was right. So despite the worries from family members (I even heard through the grapevine that some of them had made a bet on how long it be before I came home), I packed my bags and took off for Iowa. Needless to say, when I came back for a semester break, those that had expressed concern politely apologized. 

It's funny how the power of faith and the human spirit can take precedence over a medical diagnosis. In other words, I may have a handicap in regards to scientific studies and the human body, but that does not mean I have to allow those "limits" to forge the path that I should take; it does not determine who I will be or what I will do. In my eyes, they're just words and nothing else. 


I also believe in the power of confidence, and how it can propel you to overcome things that maybe you thought you couldn't. It honestly isn't natural for me though; I have to actually do something, maybe multiple times over, before I can become completely comfortable with it. But the whole reason I've accomplished so much is because of my ability to feel secure with whatever it is I'm doing. 


However, it's not just the physical aspects of myself that tend to throw me for a loop; it is partially emotional as well. There are times where I can be feisty and aggressive, and I'm becoming less shy about calling it as I see it. I may appear to be a tiny little furball, but I have the strength and determination of a tiger. That will all speak for itself at some point or another. 


I'm not saying that I'm a people pleaser, but I don't deny that I get a kick out of proving people wrong; there have been moments where I've wanted to stand up on anything ridiculously tall and say "look at me now!" Or at the very least go up to someone that ever had doubts (believe me, there are some) and say "I told you so." 


I think that I often surprise a lot people, especially when it comes to my family. Then again, perhaps that's a good thing; it means that I'm not always predictable and I'm not as easy to read as some might believe.


I have come a long way to get to where I am today. But that doesn't mean I'm done yet...not by a long shot.

The Importance of Community

When I first came to campus, my desire for independence and my stubborn demeanor were both at an all-time high. My parents made no secret of the fact that they were worried about my ability to function away from home. My brother was also quite vocal in his opinion that he did not believe I would survive a full semester. For a little bit (and as a joke) he and my Mom made a bet on how long I could go before I came home for a weekend (needless to say, I lasted until the third week of September). 


For most of my life, I have always felt this subconscious need to prove that I can physically, as well as emotionally, go above and beyond what people expect of me. Going away to college was no different; that particular need actually intensified as friends and family members back home expressed their concern for me. I had this vision that attending a University would be this huge cross-over from childhood to adulthood, and in various ways, that's exactly what it has been. 


In the first couple of weeks of school, my whole idea was to completely start over; for a while, I didn't even plan on telling anyone about my physical condition (for more on that, you can read it here). Suffice to say, people will either figure it out or at least ask me about it eventually. (And at the risk of getting off topic for a moment, I do prefer asking questions rather than making assumptions). I wanted to be the kind of person that I hadn't been in the past: strong, independent, assertive, calm, level-headed...you get the idea


For the most part, I was pretty comfortable. Yet as time went by, there were certain aspects that began to change. It got to a point where one person sat me down and basically told me that I was a burden and that it wasn't fair for others to have to take care of me. To this day, I still don't know if it was something they said out of love or if it just slipped out unnoticed; but regardless, I was devastated because it was mostly due to the one thing I couldn't control. At that time, I believed that I was completely on my own. 


Again, I felt that incessant need to prove that I could be an "adult": I vowed never to call my parents up crying unless I felt it was absolutely necessary (I'll admit that I did do it a couple of times, one of them just recently). In a sense, I had someone who I considered to be very special in my life and I didn't confide in anybody about it until long after it had ended. When I went out, I made it clear to those I was with that they were not obligated to take care of me. I went so far as to stop asking my friends for hugs or to just hold me for a minute or two when I needed it; this was mostly out of the fear of being told "no."


But that was seven months ago. 


It was toward the end of February or some time in March that I began going to Intervarsity with another floormate of mine. At first I was terrified because I had already tried two faith-based groups on campus, and I always felt out of place because it appeared as though everybody in there had these perfect relationships with God and had everything all figured out. I, on the other hand, was still terribly confused and therefore concluded that maybe  it just wasn't something that I needed in my life. 


But whenever I went, which was usually just a small group of us in a dorm, I felt like I didn't need to be an "adult" so to speak. Admittedly, there were times where I even wept, not because I was sad or upset, but because I was relieved. 


And the same was true for many other people that I've met, gotten to know and have come to truly care for around here


I think the biggest misconception that most human beings have in relation to adulthood is that as you get older, you have to start relying more on yourself and not the people around you. I don't know if it's just my generation, the generations that will follow, or even a few ahead, but it seems as though we're all being raised in a dog-eat-dog kind of world. As though it's every person for themselves, and if you're not the last one standing? Well, to put it appropriately...that just sucks for you. 


I won't say that the world isn't full of bad things or bad people, because it definitely is. There are those who don't give a damn about anyone except themselves, and they will often pretend to care only if it benefits them in some way. I won't say that one shouldn't learn to become physically and financially independent, because their parents or whomever raised them will not be around forever. I won't say to go crying to someone about every little bad thing that happens, because one can only go so far before they become completely and utterly dependent on another to fix everything for them.


But does that mean that one should go through life alone? 


I think not. 


Thus far, I've only begun to learn just how essential surrounding yourself with a community of people really is. Whether that be a sports team, a church, a fraternity/sorority, family, or just a group that does one common activity together, it's important not to isolate yourself from the rest of the world. As much as one thinks self-reliance will help them succeed, it plays a small part. In the grand scheme of things, you need people around you that will encourage you, laugh with you, be there for you, and so on and so forth. 


As for me personally, I've come to understand that just because one person says something or thinks a certain way, it does not mean that everyone else feels the same. I know that my friends and family members want to be there for me. They want to see me happy and to succeed in everything that I do. It's just a matter of being honest with myself in regards to when I can't put on a brave face anymore. 


To do this day, I still struggle with it. I go through phases where I feel like being an open book for a while, and then I will feel inclined to carry my own weight for a certain amount of time. It depends on who I surround myself with and what is currently going on in my life. 


Sometimes I just need a gentle reminder that I'm not meant to be alone. Life is not meant to live alone.

Going My Own Way

December 10 – Wisdom Wisdom. What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?


No matter what I told anyone, my hopes for my future college plans were always met with skepticism and uncertainty; "are you sure? It's such a big school!"
I would look that person straight in the face and answer with a simple "yes I've never been more sure of anything in a very long time." And that was the truth. 


For months I had been debating this, both with family members, friends and within my own mind. Deciding what college to go to wasn't a decision that I was taking lightly; it would involve a lot of financial sacrifices, and I didn't want to have to constantly be wondering if I made the right decision (as I did in high school). It was something that I researched, prayed about and thought about daily. 


And despite the responses that I was getting for my impending decision (I had one person tell me that there was no way in hell I would survive there), I knew in my heart that that was what I wanted; heck, I had been wanting to go there since I was a sophomore. It was just a matter of ignoring all the self-doubt and tuning out the doubts that were coming from others around me. 


So when I received my acceptance letter (well, more like looked online) it took me all but five minutes to officially decide where I would be going to school for the next four years. Since then I have not looked back. 


The wisest thing I did this year was not listen to what everyone else was saying, and instead  I followed my instincts. I guess that's probably the wisest thing for anyone to do in general, but for me it was more of a triumph then anything I've done up to this point. Up until my senior year in high school, I had always allowed myself to be influenced by someone else's opinion (or multiple opinions) when it came to making decisions. When I was very young, there were decisions that were made for me. I never really felt satisfied by those choices because I was doing what I felt I needed to do, not what I wanted to do. 


But this time, it was different. For once, I would be doing something that was going to make me happy. I was walking on my own path and whatever anyone else said at that point would just go in one ear and out the other.


Today, I feel as though I have more joy in my life; it has changed me in ways and given me opportunities that I never thought to be possible. More so, it's proof that if something is meant to be, it will be. 


Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been easy; there have been struggles that I've had to deal with, and I don't always make the healthiest decisions (physically or emotionally). But you know what? I don't regret any of it. Everything that you experience in life will affect you one way or the other; but it's up to you to choose what to do with it. 


I have defied so many odds since the moment I was born; I believe that if I work hard enough for it and if it feels right, it can happen. I once read in a book that you don't face obstacles just to keep you from doing something; obstacles are there to help you see just how badly you want something. I've run into plenty of walls and will keep doing so as time goes on; but just because it might take awhile doesn't mean that I won't eventually kick them down.

Wants Vs. Needs

This has been quite a common theme in my life since being on campus; actually now that I think about it's, been a theme for the past eighteen or so years. The only difference is that it's become more significant at this stage in my life, this being because I am much more physically active than ever. I'm still adjusting to various things around here, and it's taken awhile for me to be honest with myself in regards to just how sensitive I am to this "new world" so to speak.


During the first couple of weeks of college, I felt like a little kid in a candy store; I could go where I wanted to go and not really have to depend on anyone to get me there. I often went to bed at midnight or later most of the time and didn't really care how I felt the next day. I was grabbing every opportunity I could to just be social and be doing something. 


Then labor day weekend came around and I was beginning to crash. My friends and I had gone to the football game that day and had a dance party in the dorms later that night. It got to a point where I began to cough over and over again and knew that I was going to get sick. 


Needless to say, I was right.  


At first I thought that it was dehydration, because that tends to happen to me very easily when I'm moving around quite a bit. After I lost both lunch and dinner, I figured that the stomach flu was going around. Yet when the stomach aches lasted for a couple of days, I knew deep down sickness wasn't the issue. It was stress, and ultimately exhaustion. 

Taking care of myself (on both physical and emotional levels) has probably been one of the most frustrating issues since I've been on my own. Back home, I never really went out, unless you count football games, movies, and getting coffee. These days, there is so much to do and so many more options to choose from. I want to be able to soak up every minute of it and appreciate it while I can. 


A part of me still holds onto that "wonder-woman" mentality; that now that I'm older, I should be physically stronger. If I am physically stronger, I should be able to handle this kind of stuff a lot easier. And by stuff, I mean staying out late (and often), walking from one side of campus to the other, and just college itself. If I chose rest or even take a nap, I would miss out something. 


I have defied the odds repeatedly as a young girl. Why stop now?


Again, it's a harder choice to make then one can imagine. There are times where I like to ignore or completely forget that I have a mild handicap. I tend to view myself as "half and half." This means that I may have physical limitations, but that doesn't entirely make up who I am. I think that's why I don't usually tell people unless I have to, or they ask about it. I don't want to be defined by my body. I want to be defined by my heart, my personality and my character. 


I frequently forget how everyone does have their own set of weaknesses and limitations. We all have our own wants and needs. But as twisted as this sounds, what we want is not always what we need. Half of the time, what we need is never what we want. 


I have been learning so much as of right now, and it in turn is helping me to grow and mature. In hindsight, it's important to know your limits and give yourself a break. To set boundaries and stick to them. To get right back up again when you fall down. To make time for what you love. Most importantly, to understand that You CANNOT do it alone!


I am thankful for the friends that I've made thus far; for accepting me and listening to what I have to say, even when my opinions and reasons aren't always rational. I'm thankful for the sacrifices that my parents are making in order for me to be here, and I want them to be proud of me. 


The worst way one can fail at living life is not taking care of themselves. It's still a day by day process, but nevertheless, I am making progress.

Quiet Strength

I've been somewhat hesistant to write about this, considering I've been trying to not make it the focal point of my life for the last two years. But yet, it always seems to be the elephant in the room, regardless of how I live or what I do. Let me say this is anything but a pity post; as I'll explain later, pity is really the last thing I want from anybody. As is the point of this blog, I'm just putting my current thoughts to paper and going from there.



why are you like that?


why do you walk so weird?


what happened to you?




These are common questions I get, mostly when I've been out in public, and from little kids. Usually I've never known how to answer them, even though I'm rarely approached about it now a days. How do you really explain to a five year-old (or however young they may be) that it's because your mildly handicapped? But then it dawned on me that it wasn't specifically because of that.


I was born prematurely, at three months before my origonal due date (Mom was only twenty-seven weeks pregnant with me at the time.) During my birth, the part of my brain that tells my legs how to walk correctly was lacking oxygen. I stayed in the NICU for about four months after and was diagnosed with cerebral palsy a year later.

Fast forward about seventeen years

I feel like I've come a long way in my life. For the first time in a long time, maybe if ever, I feel at peace; I'm at peace with my body, peace with the fact that I'm not exactly like everyone else (yet in the grand scheme of things, aren't we all different in one way or the other?) I see my circumstances and experiences as more of a blessing than anything else, and I'm grateful for all that I've gotten out of it.

Of course, I've also had my share of struggles. There was a time when I was angry and insecure about my situation; I felt like I didn't really fit in with my peers and began having self-asteem issues. When the gossip started flying, I never knew how to stick up for myself or not let it get to me. At the time, nothing was more painful than being told that my legs needed to be "fixed." I eventually stopped trying to talk about it and became depressed.

It took from the time I was in the eighth grade till about the end of my junior year of high school to finally get over it. I came to have a relationship with God and talked about my experiences openly, but I still dwelled on certain events, constantly going through the "what ifs." I chose to go to a private catholic high school instead of public, but closed myself off from the students there for a fear of having to go through the same thing again. Little did I know that I need a big attitude adjustment: I wasn't in control of my circumstances, but I was definately in control of how I dealt with them.

I do believe that I have changed (in a good way) because of that simple lesson. By putting myself out there, being confident, and finding little bits of joy every day, I've been able to live a better life. Granted, you can't just say once that you're going to change and expect things to be perfect from that point on; it something that needs to be worked on every day, little by little. Eventually it might just become second nature :)

I hate pity, and I definately don't want to be pitied by anyone. While life has been hard at some points, that doesn't mean that nothing good has ever come out of it. I don't want people to say "I'm sorry that you're like that" because I've honestly found alot of benefits and blessings. Like writing and appreciating nature, for example.

I don't vocalize my handicap as much as I used to now a days because I don't want it to dictate the way I live my life. I have dreams, goals, and ambitions and I'll be damned if I let cerebal palsy get in the way of it. I'm not sure what exactly the future holds, but I know who holds the future. And that kind of strength, that quiet strength, is what keeps me going.