Swinging being helpful might sound simplistic, but to me, it’s not. I have loved to swing since before I can remember. There’s just something special about being up in the air and knowing that you’ll come back down to earth again.
Swinging has always calmed me down. When I was little, it felt exhilarating. I could feel the sweep in my stomach, the seemingly lost control, and then I would be right back in my parents’ hands.
I started walking later than most toddlers. Even so, swinging was a type of movement. Although my legs weren’t moving the way they were supposed to at the time, I still was able to swing with my parents’ help. My mom or dad would just plop me in the swing and I would be happy.
Eventually, I learned to walk, but I never could do as much with my legs as others my age. My sister started playing soccer. My friends played tennis or did ballet or dance. I had extracurricular activities, too, but it wasn’t the same.
It took me a while to get the hang of swimming (kicking my feet was difficult), but swimming soon gave me the same feeling as swinging—freedom. Around third grade, I started horseback riding on a sweet pony named Chino, which was a beautiful experience for me. I rode Chino for about 4 years, which I loved. Chino and I had a very special bond, but sadly he passed away in 2021. After Chino’s passing, I took a break from horseback riding.
I have continued to swim every summer in my swimming program for kids who have physical disabilities, Geaux Strong, and I do hydrotherapy. My point is, swinging and swimming both give me an amazing feeling of freedom in a world where the things I can do with my legs is limited.
I learned to swing independently over quarantine due to the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. I had a lot of spare time, and my mom (and physical therapist, over telehealth sessions) taught me how to use my legs to swing by myself. I actually learned how to swing in AFOs, which was challenging, as you can probably imagine, but it was so worth it.
After I had finished my schoolwork for the day during quarantine, I would go outside in my backyard and swing. I also found it so amazing to watch my legs and feet in the air. It was even more freeing to swing by myself than it had been when my parents pushed me.
Swinging helped (and continues to help) me a lot with the “blah” feeling I battle often. Feeling “blah” is when I don’t feel sad, but I don’t necessarily feel happy—a little numb, in a way. Being outside and feeling the wind in my hair makes me feel refreshed again. Swinging, especially, reminds me of all that I am able to do and makes me happy.
Even though CP complicated my swinging sometimes—it took me a while to swing independently, and as my hip pain continued to get worse, my dad had to switch out the swing—we always found a way around it.
Swinging independently was something that my cerebral palsy could never take away from me.
…Until I had femoral osteotomy surgery in the summer of 2023.
My surgery brought me a lot of good things, but there were some things it took away as well. After my surgery, I had to relearn how to sit, walk, and I’m in the process of learning how to run in a way that works for me.
A few weeks after surgery, I sat on our swing and let my dad push me. I couldn’t tolerate it because it hurt my hips too badly, but I told myself I’d try again soon.
Several weeks later, my mom brought me outside with our dogs, and I sat on the swing and rocked myself back and forth with my right foot.
It was bittersweet for me. I had missed being outside with my dogs, and the “blah” feeling was made better by sitting on the swing. But I missed propelling myself on the swing—something I had worked so hard to be able to do. It may not seem like a big deal, but every physical thing I do does not come easy for me, so I treasure what I am able to accomplish. To experience a setback in my abilities (even temporarily) is really tough.
I started trying to push off from the ground to get myself higher in the air. My feet scuffed the ground. It didn’t work, and it didn’t give me the same feeling I had before surgery. I was disappointed.
The summer I recovered from my femoral osteotomy was one of the most emotionally and physically draining experiences I have ever had. I needed something to give me the freedom I so desperately wanted, and swinging would have been ideal. I couldn’t swim for several weeks after surgery. My pain medicine made me loopy, so when I would have turned to writing as an outlet, I couldn’t.
Swinging is such a beautiful and beneficial thing for me. It reminds me of the good things about my legs when I struggle to see it. Swinging lets me have freedom when I want to go somewhere else, even if I’m just in the air for a few seconds. Swinging makes me happy, and the value of that really can’t be measured.
So yesterday, when I was feeling “blah”, I went outside to my backyard and sat on my swing. Our puppy, Pickle, sat under the swing and pushed her head into my hand as I rocked myself back and forth with my right foot. Maybe Pickle sensed I was feeling sad, or that I wanted something from swinging that it couldn’t give me, at least not right now. I don’t know what it was, but she sat with me under my swing for at least 10 minutes.
My dad came outside and gave me a push. As the swing released and I felt the familiar, exhilarating swoop of my stomach, I didn’t feel “blah” anymore. (And yes, Pickle’s “dog therapy” helped.)
Sure, I can’t swing by myself right now. But I trust that will come with time. For now, I like my dad pushing me, like he did when I was little. I’ve changed a lot since then, but I still love the security of my parents behind me, their hands on the swing.
In the meantime, until I relearn how to swing, I’ll appreciate what my surgery gave me. I’ll appreciate Pickle’s face peeking up at me. I’ll appreciate my dad pushing me until I can swing independently again, because as I remind myself, it’s okay to need help sometimes.
And I’ll appreciate the feeling of “flying” in the air, as my “blah” mood disappears.