Dear all the forces that be,

Dear God, Karma, and Universe,
I would just like to say "Thanks" for this opportunity to open up for me and advance so smoothly. It's like you saw my charitable donations, positivity, and heart and decided to open up my world. I've worked hard these past two years on myself in order to ready myself for this opportunity. I'm often asked how I stay positive, but the truth is, I work at it and I don't see any other choice of being. However, I would also like to thank you, God, for not labeling me as "negative" when I ran out of energy and could not put forth any positivity.  Thank you for rewarding me for working so hard to be a good person. I understand that as a person with a disability the trials I face are not  the worst ever, I realize that children suffer with illness, veterans suffer with injury, and many parts of the Earth struggle with Violence, yet you, God, understood that it was not perspective that I needed but change of circumstance to work to my optimal ability.
This is the beginning of great things.

I can't sit still

I can't sit still
I'm ready, waiting to break free
I know I'll be missed
I need to do this
I will be more independent with assistance than ever before
Free of thinking "How will I do it?"
 Thinking "When?"
Not having to try so hard to live with passion
just living not waiting
 Becoming who I am supposed to be

For World CP day

On How I got Here

By Melissa Taylor

Ideally, every person would accept their challenges in life and find a way around these.  A strict schedule of grief and acceptance, including the how-to manual would be included in a kit, and everyone with challenges and disabilities would know that “Everyone feels like this!” and “Everyone has challenges!” and magically, everything would be ok.

      However, no typical chart exists. Or if one exists, I have never been on the chart. Although I  draw inspiration from article, persons I meet with challenges, and segments on television, nothing ever resonates  as away of being.

       Every person owns their journey in life with disability. Some may visualize it as a mountain, others deep valley, others still a swimming in a crashing ocean. A Segway, a walker, a wheelchair, or crutches may be used to transport him or herself through the terrain, and the representation of acceptance or success different for each individual. For some it may be walking independently, for others, adapted sports. Until about age 23, I was gung-ho about life; an avid student, I worked part time, and I fulfilled every commitment ever promised.  I never thought I’d feel “stoppable.” As I got older, I had less energy for positivity. I didn’t walk by myself as much, I’d endured a frustrating internship at an inner-city school, a successful internship at a school in town. My heart makes up for whatever I cannot do.  I realize now that I compensated with soul for not only cerebral palsy, but my organizational deficits caused by learning disabilities. This compensation takes energy, and  suddenly, my reserves depleted. Usually a go-to for positivity, happiness, and love for my students, fatigue paralyzed me. After deciding to end student teaching, I was lost. Ever since, well-meaning acquaintances have asked me “What do you want to do with your life?” I am  First, what I wanted in life was for people to stop asking me questions. I focused on getting a ride to work, and staying positive, which took energy. Finding my path in life required stamina not available to me. Trying harder with teaching proved impossible, and returning to school not feasible. These factors caused me to give up on myself, the saddest part of my journey. I stopped dreaming when discovering  neurological and personal aspects caused me to cross out opportunities, feeling infinitely disabled. All I thought of were impossibilities.  I’ve always known that my path to success would be defined differently than a non-disabled person. However, I refuse to have lower expectations for myself, as  I know myself best. With with the right job, self-support  is a reality. This right job will not appear as a position as a neurosurgeon,  a mathematician, but a job that holds passion and promise. Cashiering is respectable, but there’s a “happiness  ceiling”,; a limit to which I can be happy having other interests, expending much energy for little money, at a location I have been working since high school.  No longer can I look on the bright side to a job with no promise of professional growth. I never intended to be tethered indefinitely to the income limits of social security or the intellectual limits of cashiering. I came to the realization that as hard as it s that doctors and psychologists box me in with a label, it is even more disturbing when I box myself in with the labels assigned to me.

Knowing

Knowing how much I have, how lucky I am, and how much I can do, it surprises me that I get down on myself still.  This knowledge does not render my life perfect or mean that I am always happy, even if (and here's the big part) I pressure myself to be.  The problem isn't that I'm a negative person, I'm just like everyone else. As much as having a disability, my number of siblings, and life experiences have shaped me, I am bound to get frustrated, because people do.  It may seem that I blow up over little things, in reality, I can keep it in control for a long time. I brush it off because I get that people are going to become impatient (being human and all). Usually it's the ninth time in the day, or even the week that someone said I was sitting down on the job, or that I look tired, or tries to get by my walker and I can't and I was doing something while the customer behind me wanted to get by and I lost concentration I can feel the need to let off steam. The steam I feel isn't even about the person asking me to move, or my not being able to move as quickly. It's because I need the walker at all, and I used to not use one at work. (although I seem to forget the fact of the painful feet and walking when I didn't have a seat readily available.) 

Moving on

Looking back at my posts, there is a theme about being more social, getting out there. Yet I have had this blog almost two years, and while a lot has changed, my residence, my lack of orthodontia, and how I express myself verbally, and I am still the same person on the social front.  I live in a rural community, peaceful but isolating. In June, I found out about a complex that my friend moved into. I had been thinking about moving out for a long time, but due to the costs of living in this area, and the lack of public transportation, it seemed out of my reach. I looked up this apartment complex and it seemed like a dream. Transportation is provided, and every resident has a personal care attendant. Though I manage on my own, a personal care attendant would be able to help with household tasks I struggle with. If I am not struggling, space in my brain can be occupied by other things. I had the tour, and the campus was beautiful. I visited my friend's apartment, which had a lot of room to move around and the bedroom was spacious. Next was the interview. It was comfortable and friendly, after which I was told to wait a few weeks for scheduling a home visit to answer any questions, and then I would hear about being added to the waiting list. This happened on Wednesday, and Friday afternoon before work, I received a call about my approval!
    I don't know when I will move in, but at the rate that everything went through, I believe it's sooner rather than later.  It's time. I know even with all these services, life won't be perfect. I'm not  looking for perfect, I'm looking for different. I need to learn what I like to do, learn how to cook with assistance, and become who I am supposed to be.

the space between how doctors thought my life was and how it actually is

When doctor's say "Be active":
I hear "Go do something you aren't good at in front of people you don't know"

When I hear others say "Your CP is so mild!/You can do so much!/Be Positive!

I hear: "You should be over this by now, it's old news, it's not a big deal"

A funny thing happens when I think of my health history by itself, my body by itself, without comparison to a more pronounced disability; I realize that even if a lot of people with CP have more issues than I do, even though I can walk and talk and my struggles are few globally speaking, and even if this fact might not make any sense; it's still difficult for me.
Just take my word for it.

My intuition tells me that I could go to psychotherapy or physical therapy for a hundred years and still have some days when life stinks
Because everyone does.

Because if the expectation is that I will get used to this some day, I have to change my expectations
Some things in life are just difficult, and their difficulty does not communicate the fact that I am not good enough, this difficulty tells me

that it's just hard. Not that I am less than or bad, or need work on issues,
Life is hard with the wanting and the trying and then maybe the results are meh
 As easy as it looked for me to hey just go take gym with kids without disabilities and play sports, it wasn't that easy. I struggled with basic motor tasks and avoided feeling different at all costs.
As easy as my life looked for the doctors, as they didn't think I needed much therapy, I believed they didn't care, that I was in this on my own.
I felt like I didn't deserve a better life.
That I was "bad" at having CP
well maybe so but having to deal with CP as a kid is kind of "bad" too.
There, I said it.
A gift, perhaps, but one that teaches others more than myself

Exciting, yet intimidating news

    So, in April, I was denied services from the Bureau of Rehabilitation Services. I called the supervisor of the office and we talked.  I gave her time to read my file, and called her back, opened my case, giving me a new counselor. Now, I am not the type of person that enjoys agency types of appointments, but the most important aspect of becoming a client is the funding it would provide for me to receive services from other agencies, namely the one that I met with in February that had great confidence in me. 

     Even so, I'm a little bit intimidated by the fact that I am a client of this agency again. The building is depressing, the office depressing. I feel a little embarrassed that I have only had one job in my life, that I have education in certain fields but not experience in those fields. However, the emotional endurance piece I have been working on enters. Meeting goals sometimes requires assistance. I have to endure the appointments and the waiting to get through to making more money and living independently. Positivity is great, but positivity sometimes allows me to remain firmly planted where I am right now. So for change, sometimes it's necessary to admit "No, I'm not happy here and I can no longer be happy here." I excel at seeming happy so well that some might argue that "Well if doing this makes you happy, that's all that matters." No. It doesn't make me happy. Pays the bills? yes. Provides medical insurance that is better accepted than say, Medicare? Yes. But not necessarily fulfilled. Being liked isn't enough for me; I have so many intangible skills that are not utilized by cashiering. I won't ever be promoted by my employer because the company tends to look at what I can't do, but even more because I don't want to be promoted to a supervisory position with more responsibilities but only slightly more pay.  It's scary to take this step into accepting help, but it's a sure step in becoming who I am supposed to be.