The Grass Isn’t Always Greener on the Other Side

 The grass isn’t always greener on the other side. You’ve probably heard this saying about jealousy, where there are two neighbors and they both think that the other has the greener grass. It probably sounds strange for me to say, though. 

       I’m more aware now of what I look like and who I am, especially in comparison to my sister. A twin. An aspiring writer. A swimmer and an animal lover and a thinker. But I see the physical side of it, too. Bigger-than-average feet. Skinny, long legs. A left foot that turns in, a left knee that bends toward my right leg, a left leg that drags behind. A right leg that overcompensates. Eyes, the same color as my sister’s, that drift apart, unlike hers. A visually similar face to my sister’s, but a limp that makes some people wonder, What went wrong?

And I finally have the answer. Nothing. Nothing went wrong. I am the way I am for a reason, and my sister is the way she is for a reason. Despite what others may think, despite the thought process that made my teacher ask, “Did your sister sit on you when you were in the womb? Is that why you are the way you are?” in a tone that implied I was wrong for being the way that I am, I’m content. I wouldn’t wish for my sister’s legs. Mine are frustrating sometimes, but they are a part of me.

     Having cerebral palsy and anxiety and growing up with a twin sister who has neither isn’t always easy, though. I am glad that she doesn’t have to face the challenges that I do. If she did, it might help her understand me a bit more—but I wouldn’t want her to go through the mental, emotional, and physical pain. Because we are twins, people tend to compare us. Whether it’s intentional or not, it happens. It’s kind of natural at this point, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to get used to. I have anxiety (also known as generalized anxiety disorder) and I get in my own head too much. So when I do get compared with my sister, I always think that I compare unfavorably. A lot of that pattern of thinking has to do with my insecurities about having cerebral palsy. 

       Cerebral palsy means a lot of things for me, and it is also an example of a huge difference between me and my sister. I have CP, and she does not. As a result of CP, I am probably one of the most unathletic people you will ever meet. My balance is pretty bad, and I move slowly and carefully. I am hurting a lot, if not all, of the time. That has not stopped me from going to school, going horseback riding whenever I can, and swimming as much as possible (in the summer, because I don’t have a pool). That being said, I have never been able to do a team sport. My balance is unreliable, I move too slowly, and things like running aggravate my hips. 

     My sister started playing recreational soccer in the third grade, and has progressed to the point where she made the high school soccer team. It has been a very positive experience for her, and my family and I are so happy that she made the team and is doing well with soccer. Her teammates are so encouraging and nice, and my sister works well with them. They act like, well…a team. 

   It is no secret that I sometimes struggle with making friends and sharing common interests with others. After-school activities, aside from academic clubs like Beta Club and Battle of the Books, were never really a thing for me. Physical therapy and, when I was much younger, occupational and speech therapy, were the after-school activities I participated in. My sister has soccer practice two to three times a week now, and her games are every weekend. I go to support her, but I can’t help watching how her team interacts. It makes me wish I could be on a team like that, as happy as I am for my sister that she has something she loves.

It was and is still hard for me that my sister is an athlete, and I struggle with physical activity. Even when we were little, she started walking early on, and I began to walk at 2 ½. In school, she would run along with the other kids at recess and I would either watch or try to run, too, when I would fall down, unable to keep up. 

I hate this side of myself, but at times I’m envious at how well my sister can run and do physical activities. When we were in elementary school PE, she would run past me with ease, earning an A in the class, while I received an F because I couldn’t run a mile in my AFOs (or leg braces). I would be grateful to be able to run for a long time. Running looks so freeing. 

   PE continues to be easier for my sister than it is for me, and that’s fine. I expect that. I have a physical disability. It’s just that comparisons between us are inevitable, and I feel like I fall short.

         However, having CP has aided me in so many ways, and my sister doesn’t have that. She has performance anxiety. I hate that for her, because I know how frustrating anxiety is. One thing that my anxiety has not tampered with, though, is my love of performing. I have been poked with needles, endured countless doctor and therapy appointments, gone through a little over ten surgeries, placed in itchy casts, lost loved ones, and heard people’s opinions of my disability—when I have by no means asked for them. I have been called “crippled” and told that I am wrong for being the way I am. Accusations have been hurled at me for not looking the way that society thinks an individual with a disability should look. So no, performing in a theatre production or singing at a choir concert doesn’t scare me.

     Although I don’t share my sister’s performing anxiety, I can definitely empathize with her. Anxiety stinks. If there can be a benefit to her having anxiety, it’s that I feel like she understands me better. She now knows what it’s like to have anxiety, although experiences with anxiety are not always the same, and gets that it’s no picnic or walk in the park. 

      Another advantage having CP has given me is that I know what it’s like to struggle. That may not sound like an advantage, and sometimes, it doesn’t feel like one. But every day, I have to get up knowing that there will be difficulties and pain. I struggled to walk and to write and to hold my fork. As a teenager, I’m still working on tying my shoes, a task that no one understands why it takes me half an hour to execute. It’s still hard to walk sometimes, and PE is difficult. I’ve been through occupational therapy, where I learned to write, and speech therapy, after which my stutter calmed down a lot and I can pronounce my “s” sounds. I still do physical therapy, where I know that every time, my therapist will have a new challenge for me. I also have sensory processing disorder, and I have to try to deal with the sounds I’m sensitive to. And having anxiety, I am constantly in a losing battle with my own mind.

       My sister doesn’t have a disability. School, especially math, comes naturally to her, whereas I have to work pretty hard at math. We’ve both lost people we love, but my sister doesn’t struggle very often. So when something that is challenging to her comes along, she doesn’t know what to do. Things that don’t come easily to her frustrate her quickly. When she was having to condition in preparation for her soccer tryouts, she complained about how hard it was. I tried to assure her that she was doing great, but after a while of hearing about it, I told her that I probably wasn’t the right person to talk to about running and asked her to please consider who she was talking to. I felt like a bad person afterwards, because no matter what, I always try to be supportive. Jealousy or envy is not an emotion I like. But I just couldn’t take it anymore.

      My sister doesn’t often encounter things that are difficult for her. She’s not used to struggling. If there’s one thing I can say, it’s that I have a lot of practice with perseverance. 

     As close as my sister and I are, we will never understand each other completely. That’s okay. We were meant to do different things in life. My sister is one of my advocates. She speaks up for me when I face people that are mean-spirited. She supports me when I’m having a hard time. And really, that’s all I can ask. 

     So, yes, my sister and I are twins. That doesn’t mean we will ever be the same. We weren’t supposed to be. My having cerebral palsy doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s better, just that we’re different. And no, in case you’re wondering—my sister did not sit on me when I was in the womb. That’s not how cerebral palsy works. And as much as my twin has influenced my life, she has nothing to do with why I have CP. Even though we’re different, and even though I’m sometimes frustrated with the things she’s able to do and I’m not—or the different experiences we have—we are sticking together. Because that’s what sisters do.

 You might think that the fact that I have a disability and my sister does not would mean that I would trade with her, but I wouldn’t. I like the way I am, regardless of society’s opinion.

 As you can see, the grass might have a greener tint from a different angle, but that doesn’t mean the grass is always greener on the other side. 

     

Top 10 Marvel Quotes I Relate To Having Cerebral Palsy

 

I like the Marvel Universe for many reasons. One of those reasons, I think, is because not every superhero was born automatically super strong, with big muscles and extreme powers. The superheroes are relatable, with real struggles, and they control their own story. I’m not a superhero, but I can relate with the stories of the fictional characters who are.

Here are the top 10 Marvel quotes that I relate to because I have cerebral palsy:

1. “I have nothing to prove to you.” —Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel

I want to be an advocate for people who have physical challenges like I do. I can be an advocate without having to prove that I deserve help. I can educate about cerebral palsy without having to justify that, while my CP is mostly invisible, I do have CP. I like Captain Marvel’s character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe because she is a heroine who knows she does not have to prove herself in order to use what is rightfully hers—to fight for what she wants in the world. I have had to prove that I should be able to use the elevator. I have had to just make things work when people didn’t believe I had a disability. I shouldn’t have to prove that I am valid. Do I want to advocate? Yes. But I can educate without having to prove what I deserve. 

2. “Look, it’s me, I’m here, deal with it. Let’s move on.” —Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Iron Man 2

Most people are surprised that I have a disability. I have a bit of a limp and my left knee turns in because I can’t really control my left foot. I have a hard time keeping up with other kids my age, but other than that, no one can really tell. Surprise often manifests in insensitive comments. I relate to the above quote in more ways than people know. I wish they could get past the surprise of my having cerebral palsy. I wish they could understand my looking slightly different and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’m here, I am who I am, and it’s okay.

 3. “If it were easy, everyone would do it.” —Loki, Thor: The Dark World

My challenges are difficult—that’s why they’re called challenges. It takes a lot just to get up and go to school, sometimes. To face another day that I know will be somewhat painful (in the physical sense, at least). I think my obstacles would be hard for a lot of people to deal with. This quote resonates with me because it reminds me that if my challenges were easy, a) it wouldn’t be a challenge, and b) I’m facing things in life that are hard, and I am able to not let it get the best of me.

4. “I can’t control their fear, only my own.” —Wanda Maximoff, Captain America: Civil War

People don’t fear me, per sé, but they do not know what to make of me at times. And, yes, not everything needs a label. But it is human nature to label something, to organize something, in a sense, to understand it. I don’t really fit into a label. My CP (in most cases) and anxiety (again, in the vast majority of situations) are invisible. This makes some people I’ve encountered curious, which is fine, and others ask inappropriate questions and comment negatively. I’ve come to learn that I can’t control what people think of me. Some of them, I know, wonder why I need the assistance of a hand; why my gait pattern is so different; or why a girl who presents as being independent is at the neurologist’s office, etc. While I’d rather people not focus on my physical aspects, I can’t prevent that. It’s natural. I have difficulty with this, but I’ve also learned I can’t control what people say. People are going to say offensive things sometimes, because either they might be uneducated about a topic or for some other reason. I can try to educate people (which I’m working on) but I cannot let other people’s opinions and actions toward my cerebral palsy dictate how I act and what I do.

5. “Pain only makes us stronger.” —Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow

I experience pain almost, if not every day. I have physical pain, and then I have emotional pain. Physical pain makes me stronger because I have to deal with a frustrating circumstance that I can’t control and make my body listen to what I want to do—even if it hurts. Emotional pain, to me, is more difficult. To be honest, I’m used to pain. I have experienced it chronically for six years (in the physical sense), and generally my legs have always hurt, and I have had emotional pain for a long time. With emotional pain, I have to learn to cope with myself—with who I am as a person and my feelings. Like with my legs, having emotional pain can feel like you’re fighting against yourself. But with pain, I have to understand that I am not the enemy. My pain doesn’t really stop, but I have to keep going. It has taught me that when you think something is unfair, you can’t stop until the situation changes. Some things will not always go the way you want it to, and you have to adapt to that. I cannot wait until I am no longer in pain to be happy. I have to go for what I want now, whether the pain is there or not. And if it is, well—I have to be stronger than that pain. I won’t overcome cerebral palsy. I probably won’t overcome anxiety. But I don’t have to let it stop me. There are other ways to do things. Pain opens my eyes to different ways to succeed.

6. “At some point, we all have to choose between what the world wants us to be and who we are.” —Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow

I present myself differently than society’s expectation of what a disability looks like. I am ambulatory and can speak. For some reason, society is stuck on one “image” of what a person who has a disability looks like, and almost any other representation of a disability is dismissed. Considering that at least 10% of Americans have a disability that could qualify as “invisible”, that expectation isn’t realistic. Yes, many people do have a disability that is visible and is more severe than mine happens to be, and that should ABSOLUTELY be recognized. But I believe that people with less visible disabilities should not be judged for needing help, too. That being said, sometimes I feel like the world wants me to be one of two things—someone who appears to have a severe disability, and someone who does not require any physical help and can execute physical tasks easily. I am neither. I fall in the middle. The world might want me to be something different than I am, but the only person I will be is myself. CP does not define me. I don’t believe that a disability defines anyone (people might have contrasting opinions than mine, and that’s okay, too). I am proud of having CP, but cerebral palsy is not who I am, regardless if the world wants me to think so or not.

7. “No man can win every battle, but no man should ever fall without a struggle.” —Peter Parker, Spider-Man: Homecoming

Not everything in life is easy. We won’t be able to master every challenge right away. I can’t conquer every obstacle in my way, and that’s okay. But I should never not try. Life is hard. That’s a fact. But just because it is, I’m not just going to give up. I have things to offer the world, so I can’t just fall on the ground and stay there. It’s true—it takes time to conquer a challenge. But there will always be a fight in me. We can’t just give up. If life wants to give us a challenge, we have to challenge it back. I will be a worthy opponent. It’s okay if a challenge is hard. That’s what a challenge is. But I have too much to do to just give up. I can’t meet every challenge head-on immediately. But I won’t give up, either.

8. “We never lose our demons. We only learn to live above them.” —The Ancient One, Doctor Strange

My demons are my anxiety and, at times, cerebral palsy. That is not to say that I am ashamed of having CP. Not in the least. But I get frustrated. It irritates me when people say, “[so-and-so] overcame his/her disability and went on to do…” Odds are, the person did that while still having their disability. Don’t misunderstand me, it is amazing when people do things that their specific challenges can make it hard to do, but people can accomplish things while having a disability. People who have disabilities don’t always accomplish things “in spite of” having their disability. Suffice it to say, I love this quote because my demons cause me to stop and think about the best way to do something. I don’t overcome CP. I find ways to do things with CP. There is a difference between living above our demons and losing our demons. I don’t let cerebral palsy stop me from what I want to do—but I don’t do things in spite of it, either. There is a way to work with having a disability, and that is what I hope to do. 

9. “We may lose. Sometimes painfully. But we don’t die. We survive.” —Loki, Loki: Disney +

You can’t conquer every challenge. No one can. I tend to fall down a lot (literally, and sometimes metaphorically). I know this is cliché, but when I fall down, I get back up. Not always immediately. Sometimes it takes someone to pull me to my feet. But every time, I know I can’t give up. I can’t just let life throw punches at me and then do nothing. I have to give myself a chance to fail—and eventually, to succeed. Part of what makes so many people with disabilities so special (and inspiring to others, although some people convey that the wrong way) is our ability to keep going, to keep trying—even, and especially—when the odds are against us succeeding. I may fail at a challenge. I will fall. I will cry and get frustrated and wonder why my body won’t move the way I feel it is “supposed” to. But what I will not do is say that my body won, that the challenge won. Yes, sometimes I feel that I’m fighting a losing battle. Oftentimes, I have to fight against my own legs to get them to do what I want. I may fail badly. But what makes me me is that I don’t curl up and stop. I will keep trying. For as long as it takes.

10. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about who I am. Born or made.” —Phastos, Eternals

Some people would assume that if I had a choice for a slightly different life, I’d take it. I have a twin and once my mom asked me if—hypothetically, of course—I would ever like to switch body parts with her. I told her no (no offense to my twin). I said, “My legs frustrate me, but I wouldn’t like to give them up. I am a much better person because of CP.” I have learned the art of adversity, of not giving up when things get hard. I have learned how to better deal with people. I have learned how to accept others, based on how I want people to accept me. I am sensitive to the feelings and emotions of others. I like to think that I would have been this way without my challenges to teach me, but I don’t know that. I’m not sure. While having cerebral palsy does not define me, it is a part of who I am. I wouldn’t be the same person without the experiences and lessons that my CP has taught me. While I definitely, absolutely have flaws—and I could definitely be improved—my CP is not a part of me that I would change. My legs are frustrating, yes. But challenges make us all interesting. My character is infinitely more important to me than my physical attributes, and I feel like CP aids the parts of me that I truly care about. I have a long way to go with self-acceptance at times, but that’s okay. I wasn’t born with cerebral palsy, but it is a part of me that is meant to be.