She believed she could, so she did.
To all those who called me worthless, useless, and slow:
Do you know when I started walking? I was 2 ½. Walking hurts me. My hips hurt constantly because my feet turn in. I learned to walk with AFOs (ankle foot orthotics), which are so heavy that my sister couldn’t walk in them when she tried. And that’s what I learned to walk in. I needed my AFOs until this year. I’ve been in physical therapy since I was 14 months old. I worked hard and finally got my AFOs off. It takes more effort for me to walk than most people. Yet I do it every day. It takes me more time, but ultimately I get where I need to go, if sometimes a few minutes late.
My occupational therapist (OT) used to say I ate like a caveman. Do you know when I learned to hold utensils properly? This year. I am 13. At home, I use a curved blue bowl that helps me scoop things. My parents have to cut up food into smaller bites for me to poke or scoop easier. I still struggle to scoop food into my mouth at times and sometimes resort to eating dessert with my fingers at restaurants when my parents aren’t there. But I eat, and I manage.
I started speech therapy when I was 3. It was to work on my “s” sounds. I still stutter when I’m nervous, which can make kids impatient to wait for me to get a sentence in (occasionally). But then it evolved to eating. I have sensory processing disorder, which for me means that in addition to having trouble with tolerating loud noise, certain foods are hard to swallow due to their texture. I graduated speech therapy when I was 5. It is rare for me to eat 3 meals a day. I have a small appetite and a lot of foods are hard for me to eat.
How about when I learned to write correctly with a pencil, and legibly? I wrote legibly when I was about 6. Apparently, I don’t hold a pencil “correctly”, to the point where my teacher allowed me to trace only half the page in cursive, not the whole one like everyone else.
Do you know what I did? I turned in a whole page of cursive writing like everyone else. It took me a lot longer and my writing was a lot messier, but I tried. To this day, I sign my name in cursive—except for the H; I never mastered that—and have won awards for my writing.
How about getting dressed? Is that hard? I learned to get dressed completely independently when I was about 8. I still need help with buttons and zippers, though. Most kids learned that in preschool or kindergarten. I didn’t. Maybe most kids my age don’t come to their parents for help with buttoning and zipping, but I do. My hands have come a long way, and can button bigger buttons when needed. Mostly.
I have known how to cut with scissors since kindergarten, but was unable to cut shapes until I was 7. When I’m in a time crunch, my teachers help me cut things. Cutting is one of my least favorite things to do. When I cut, it looks like a preschooler did it. But I’m proud to say that I cut and designed a poster for the library BY MYSELF recently. Sure, the challenge had to start two days late because I needed an extra night to cut things out, but even though I struggle, I manage.
I ride a bike now. I was about 9 when I really learned. My bike has three wheels and hand brakes. It may not look like the other bikes that you see on the street, but that’s ok. It works for me. Biking is one of my favorite activities and I can do it with my family. I get tired earlier than they do, and my bike works out my calves, while their bikes do not. Since my hamstrings have more spasticity, it is hard for me to ride a “regular” bike. But my three-wheeler allows me to have fun with my parents and sister.
I also attended summer camp for a week for 2 years. The camp was for kids with physical challenges. Was I completely independent? No. As usual, I needed help tying my shoes and maneuvering uneven ground. But I functioned with the help of a counselor and without my family, which was something I needed to prove to myself.
And I learned to swim independently about 2 years ago. My parents signed me up for swimming lessons when I was maybe 4. I struggled with kicking (and still do) but back then I made it to the other side with the lifeguard’s help.
I have come a long way since then. Last summer my family got a membership to the pool. Passing a swimming test was not required, but I wanted to do it to prove that I could.
My parents were doubtful, but my dad coached me a little before the test began.
I made it all the way across a Junior Olympic pool without stopping and without anyone’s help. My feet never touched the bottom of the pool.
(I actually did better than my sister, but we’re not bringing that up again.)
I am not “the disabled girl”.
I am a thirteen-year-old girl. I love to read and write. I love riding horses and I adore my 11-year-old beagle Milo. I want to be a physical therapist someday to help others like myself.
Nothing is “wrong” with me.
I have had struggles since I came to this Earth 13 ½ years ago. I struggle with fine motor skills and physical activities. I am slower than most when it comes to walking or running.
But I swear, my effort level is one of the highest you’ll ever encounter. I try so hard to be an honest and kind, determined and persevering, loving and humble human being.
I have a hard time with balance. I have mild cerebral palsy. But CP is far from my defining characteristic.
And those of you who have called me useless over the years have no idea who you’re dealing with. I have to work hard every day of my entire life to keep going. Because I know each day will bring pain and more challenges for me.
I may do things more slowly than you do. I may require more help than you do. But I am far from worthless. I am capable. I’m me.
