I Can Sing More Than One Note 🎤

 At my high school, a student organization hosted a talent show. Not many people really know this about me, but I love to sing. I was in choir in middle school, but the fact that I like to sing probably confuses people because I chose to be in Talented Play Production, not Talented Musical Theatre. I do love the singing part of musicals. Ultimately, though, musicals include complex choreography and the people in musical theatre are cliquey, so I signed up for Talented Play Production.

Anyway, most people at my school (excluding my friends) view me one of two ways: 1) the kid who walks weirdly or 2) the nice, smart, nerdy girl. (Obviously, I prefer Option 2.) No one really sees me as anything besides that with the exception of my friends. I’ve liked to sing ever since I can remember, but I’ve always been shy about it. And until this year, I liked performing, but I was never really passionate about theater. That has changed.

I decided to put myself out there, so I signed up for the talent show. I like challenging myself. Although performing in the talent show would be nerve-wracking, I knew it would also be fun, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could get up onstage and be vulnerable in front of people and still be okay.

This was not the first time I’d performed in a talent show. I used to go to a week-long sleepaway camp for kids with disabilities. The camp had a talent show, and the first year I sang “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus. 

That talent show was less of a showcase of talent—though everyone was talented—and more of a fun camp activity that mostly everyone participated in. In other words, less pressure. At the time, I was nine and it was a new experience for me, so singing in the talent show did make me nervous. My parents were surprised to hear that I sang because I’m generally pretty shy and I have anxiety, but I don’t let my anxiety stop me from doing things I want to do.

My school talent show this year was very different. Only a select few kids auditioned, and the talent show was held in the high school theater with lighting and MCs and tech—much like in my Talented Play Production class. Luckily, because of the class, most of the theater and performance process was not new to me, so I felt more comfortable than I would have otherwise.

Still, this talent show was a much bigger deal. Many people came—so many that the theater I was so used to in class was totally filled—and the talent show was technically a competition, though I really didn’t care about that.

I had chosen to sing the song “Human” by Christina Perri. It probably was not the best pitch for my voice, but the song expressed the message I wanted and so that was all I cared about. Winning the talent show was not the priority for me. My priorities were to prove to myself that I could be vulnerable in front of people, prove to others that I was more than just the nerd and the girl who had CP, and hopefully send a positive message in the process with the song I chose.

In a nutshell, I wanted to prove that I could “sing more than one note” (not necessarily in the literal sense). My “notes” are always pretty straightforward—smart, a high achiever, a nerd, socially awkward, unique, maybe a little weird, slow. I wanted to prove that those things are not all I am. I am more than the way I walk. There is more to me than taking pride in my schoolwork. I wanted people to see me on the inside a little bit. I wear vulnerability on my sleeve with my CP, but I wanted to be vulnerable for a different reason. I wanted to be more than one dimension; I wanted to inspire people with my voice and not necessarily with my story.

For one night, I didn’t want my legs to be the reason people stared at me. I didn’t want people to label me as a nerd when they looked at me. I wanted to use my voice, to be brave, to be vulnerable, to do something that people could appreciate.

I think—and hope—that I proved to myself and to others that I am not “one note”. I am not just the girl who is smart, or the girl who can’t walk right. I can be vulnerable. I can be someone else than who I have made myself to be. I can inspire people without them knowing my background, or my story. I can sing. 

Part II: Going To An Amusement Park With CP

Going to an amusement park and having CP can be challenging at times. There aren’t many attractions that I am incapable of riding. I love to have fun like everyone else, but I can’t last as long at an amusement park because of how much walking there usually is.

In bigger theme parks like Disney World, SeaWorld, and Busch Gardens, there are passes for people with physical and intellectual disabilities so that we don’t have to wait in line. Standing for an extended amount of time can be difficult, and it is. I don’t like taking advantage of the pass because I feel like there are so many people more deserving than me to use it. I do have cerebral palsy, but it is mild and I don’t like drawing attention to myself, so there are some times I may make having CP in an amusement park more difficult than it has to be. 

Sometimes, my family brings a wheelchair so that I don’t have to walk around the park and my energy is conserved. However, I get stared at so much that sometimes I don’t like bringing a wheelchair. I know that might sound petty because people who use wheelchairs on a daily basis don’t have the choice to leave their wheelchairs at home, but I digress. 

Anyway, I didn’t feel like being stared at on this vacation and there wasn’t enough room in the car to bring the wheelchair anyway, so I walked. For the first few hours, I was running on adrenaline. Many times, on fun outings, I am in pain, but I am so looking forward to the outing that I just ignore the pain. This was the case for this amusement park. I was so excited to go on the rides that I forgot to pace myself.

I was having so much fun when I was actually on the rides, but when I got off I had to walk. I didn’t mind because I was so excited, but after a while my legs got so tired that I couldn’t hide it anymore. When I start to get fatigued, my feet drag and catch on the ground. 

I never want to say that I’m tired because I feel like such a party-pooper. And though my physical health should come first, I love having fun so much that I don’t want to take a break and sit down.

It is hard for me to balance what I want to do and what I should do where my legs are concerned. My body doesn’t feel like it is built to handle being a kid sometimes. I want to keep going and keep walking but the reality is, I can’t. I have to sit down. 

I have to learn at some point that my physical health is the priority, and there is still a way to have fun and pace myself at the same time. It is a bit hard for me because I see kids running around and walking for hours on end, their adrenaline ensuring they never tire out. I am a young teenager and my endurance is that of an elderly woman. It is certainly frustrating.

That being said, going to an amusement park with my family is such a fun experience that I would never trade for anything. Though I do get frustrated when my legs give out early, I love having the opportunity of being able to go to a theme park. I am grateful that I am able to ride most attractions and truly do not take the ability for granted. 

Part I: Bittersweet Vacation (But Mostly Sweet)

Over spring break, my family and I took a vacation to Galveston, Texas. I was very happy to go on vacation because I love having fun and spending time with my family. I was also aware that this was my last vacation before my derotational femoral osteotomy, which is a major leg surgery that I hope will lessen my chronic pain. 

This vacation was unexpectedly harder for me. Walking on the beach is tough sometimes because I do not navigate uneven ground very well. We walked a lot and had a lot of fun, but my legs were worn out every day.  

There was a part of me that was sad in a weird way. I was sad because it felt like the end of an era for me. I don’t know how vacations in the future will be different after my surgery. I hate having pain, but I expect it. Recovering from surgery, I will have to relearn how to walk because my bones will be in different positions. Was walking during vacation only going to get harder from here?

I don’t know the answer. I was disappointed that I had to be in pain throughout this vacation. Fear of the unknown is scary, but sometimes being stuck in a continuous cycle is even harder. I knew the pain wasn’t going to go away on this vacation, and that was frustrating.

Most kids don’t have to pace themselves through their vacation because they know they’ll be in pain by the end of the day. I don’t think it’s fair that I have to. But even though it’s unfair, there is nothing I can do about it, so I have to just roll with the punches.

In the end, though, I tried to focus on the present because the future will come later. The beach was beautiful and peaceful, and it was nice to get away from everyday life. I loved spending time with my family, and all that mattered was I got to share a beautiful trip with them before undergoing surgery.

Theater Is…..

In real life, my tongue is tied
In real life, my voice is
Meek
Barely there
Hardly a decibel
Only there for people
Who are willing
To hear it. 

When I enter theater,
I am
Different.
As if a spell was cast
Like I am the female lead
Of my own play,
My own story,
My own life.

In theater, I am not
Helpless
Not anymore.

In theater, my voice is
Strong
Resonates
Like I know that
I Deserve to be 
Heard.

In theater, I can be
Angry
It’s okay
I can yell
I can restrain myself
I can be
Furious
I can be
Quiet
I don’t have to be
Real

But yet it's in the theater
On the stage
Looking out at the people who
Over this year have become
My confidants,
My community,
My friends,
My Family,
that I am real
that I am completely
Myself.

In this space
That has become
My happy place
My source of joy
I can act
I can cry
I can become someone
Different
But I end up being me.

In theater,
I step through the doors
and lives fall apart
And are mended
in the span of an hour
When I’m upset
Feeling that I’m
Broken,
Shattered,
The pieces slipping through my fingers,
I can be emotional
But it’s someone else I'm speaking for

Theater is seemingly simple

Yet so effortlessly complex

Theater is fun,

Smiles,

Laughter,

A place where I can

Relax

Be me.

Theater is not a

Team sport,

And yet I’ve found

My team

We’re all equal players

Our game is life

In theater,

My friends,

My family,

We are a team—

With support,

Encouragement,

Prayers,

Surrounding each other

Building each other up.

While becoming someone else
I find myself
I find a group in which
I belong
I find happiness
I find a family who accepts me
People who see me 
As who I pretend to be

The girl with the
Strong voice
Burning gaze
Emotions in her eyes
The girl who knows 
What she’s doing
Who she wants to be
And yet, that girl is me
In a different universe.

Only a few people
See that universe
Only a few people see
A girl who can act
Without breaking,
A girl who can say
What she wants
Raise her voice
Convey a message 
With a single glance.

This girl can stop
Keeping her words
Inside,
To herself

I can pretend all I want
But I am seen
I am seen so much more
Than I ever have been
Before.

When I speak
I am learning how to
Express myself.
Being quiet can be
Strong,
But using my voice
Has its own kind of strength.

In theater, I don’t

Walk on eggshells

Instead I

Walk across the stage

In theater, I don’t lock eyes

With the floor.

I gaze at my audience, maintain

Eye contact.

In theater, I don’t

Make myself scarce.

I let myself

Take up space

(what a beautiful feeling).

In theater, I don’t

Bite my tongue

I speak, because

In theater

Speech is key.

In theater,
I don’t forget 
My legs.
It’s more like
My legs don’t matter
Anymore.
I move
differently
My left leg hasn’t magically
Changed
My words tumble out faster
Than my legs can move.

In theater, it’s like
I don’t care
My legs will keep up with me
Or not
I have a purpose
Whether or not my legs agree

My emotions propel me
These emotions,
I feel them all 
The time.
I am more of an actress
Elsewhere
Be quiet, I tell myself
Hide your feelings.
It’s how I survive

Theater is not about surviving
Not anymore.
I can thrive
My voice matters,
here.

I can think what I like
Say what I feel
And though some of it is
Pretend,
Not all of it is.

I can’t always say
What needs to be said,
not yet,
Not to who really needs to
Hear it.

Each time,
I drop other people’s words
What they think of me
Their control over my life
And,
Slowly,
I take that control back.

In theater,
Every whisper,
Every murmur,
Every comment or shout or wisecrack
Anything anyone could say
It all matters.

As my voice slips out
I become who I wish
I could be.

Theater is not all
Pretending.
Theater is heart 
and soul
in being someone else,
Even if that someone
is yourself.

As I realize
My voice matters
My voice is heard
I have power,
It was taken,
But my power doesn’t have to be
Gone.

This power is mine to earn
With my words
and my voice
and my trust

Theater gives me a reason,
Another person to be,
For just a while.

And over time,
That person
The girl who is confident when she moves,
The voice that holds power,
quiet or loud,
The girl who believes in herself
Believes she can speak her mind
Believes she has something worth saying,
Will emerge 
Like a butterfly flying from the cocoon. 

Kindness—The Best Help for Anxiety

 School pictures. No big deal, right? Ordinarily, no. 

I had to take school pictures with my theatre class this past week, which I didn’t expect to be a big deal. It wasn’t, but the experience surprised and scared me a bit.

Unfortunately, to take the pictures, we had to sit on the bleachers. Normally, this doesn’t really affect me because I make sure to get a spot at the bottom bleacher; that way, I don’t have to climb the bleachers. However, this time, as I took a spot on the bottom, older kids started telling me that the bottom row was just for seniors. 

“Just climb up,” one girl said unhelpfully.

I gestured helplessly toward the bleachers, my heart beginning to pound. I have so much anxiety surrounding any type of stairs. Going up isn’t bad, but going down makes me very, very anxious.

One of my best friends grabbed my hand and another boy put his arm out in case I needed to take it. I was grateful. I sat down and smiled for the picture, which was fine.

After that, everyone in the bleachers stampeded down and out the door. I looked around, again feeling helpless. My hands and legs started to shake as I looked to my only exit—the stairs. I was stuck, and it felt horrible.

For a while, I have had the goal of being independent. With that glance at the stairs and the knowledge that I couldn’t get down, I started to panic. It just hit me that there are some things I can’t do by myself. It was a scary realization.

Realistically, nothing bad would happen if I just sat on the bleachers. But the thought that I was helpless to go anywhere….well, that was a thought I wished I could ignore.

It turned out that the same boy who had helped me before pictures was still there, and he climbed up to help me without me even asking.

I was so happy that I wasn’t forgotten or stuck anymore. My knees trembled the whole way down and it took me a minute to get my breathing to calm down, but I was okay. 

It really meant a lot to me that that boy was so thoughtful. He didn’t have to help me, but he did. He even asked if I was okay because I guess he noticed I was shaken up. My point is, there is kindness in the world, and sometimes you don’t even have to ask for it.

And as much as I want to be independent, it’s okay to need help. Stairs still make me nervous, but the more times I can climb them, my anxiety will ease. 

I was overwhelmed at how anxious I was. My anxiety had never manifested so physically when met with stairs (ironic, isn’t it?). But it’s amazing how such a meaningful act of kindness helped my anxiety so much.