Living with Cerebral Palsy and Intersectionality

I spent my college summers on or near campus so I didn't have to go home and I went into debt doing it. The summer between my sophomore and junior year of college, saw three pretty significant events in my life in about the span of 3 months. In May of that year, right around the time school was letting out, my mom died. Around the same time, I'd fallen in love for the very first time, was getting my heart broken for the very first time, and was neck deep in a trauma bond stronger than anything I've experienced before or since. I was also celebrating a wedding not too long after my birthday. I was invited halfway across the country to a wedding for two friends, whose first date I accidentally crashed, due to another foundational experience in my life earlier that year. “We’re one mistake from being together but let's not ask why it's not right” (Metro Station, Seventeen Forever). This summer was unquestionably a catalyst that drove me to transfer colleges...

“My music's so loud, I'm swangin’” (Chamillionaire, “Ridin'”), maybe it was the winter dance in my first months of college, maybe it was the Midori Sours I got into, maybe it was the fact that my music was actually loud, and maybe it's just the way I move with Cerebral Palsy. I wasn't bringing intentional awareness to my Cerebral Palsy twenty years ago when Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month and Day (March 25) was coming into existence. I was two months into college, shooting pool, and drinking Midori Sours with the ladies.  I still had a little bit of sweetness in me back then. I was a long way from the days of whiskey neat. I was busy enjoying the freedom of college, even if it was an Evangelical Christian University where I had to sign behavioral contracts aimed at purity. Here's the thing about that time in my life, I wasn't talking about my Cerebral Palsy, I was mostly talking about Jesus, college life, songwriting, and what to do on Friday nigh...

I wore wide legged pants for years to hide my legs and most of my clothes in college were ministry conference swag shirts. The college student living off of nothing is a bit of a trope, but I hardly bought any tops for four years. I think I bought a Rolling Stones T-shirt and that's about it. I had so many free shirts with forgettable ministry brands, I can't tell you what most of the brands were. I was volunteering in youth ministry all throughout college to prepare for professional ministry after college so it fit the bill. Poverty was a bigger driver of my t-shirt wardrobe than anything else at the time.  When I look back at photos and videos from that time, I notice certain things that were just kind of in the background. The countless free T-shirts with a ministry brand on them, the free computer I used for most of college that had been decommissioned and refurbished, the fact that most of my monthly budget went to food, and that most of my college adventures were finan...

I probably don't recognize you when I see you from a distance. I ran into someone the other day and they waved to me. I waved back. We almost went on our way and then our paths got closer. They decided to walk up to me and they were laughing because they realized I didn't know who they were when they first waved at me. What I didn't tell them is that I couldn't see who they were because they were too far away. How far? Maybe a few hundred feet (I don't have depth perception so it could have been 30 feet). This happens to me all the time and people generally don't know that I can't see as well as they think. “It's just that demon life has got me in its sway” (The Rolling Stones, Sway).  My eyesight has unfortunately been the cause of many miscommunications. One time I walked up to team members and asked, “What's going on here?” They were taken aback and put off at first until they realized the question wasn't a challenge. I couldn'...

People have come to expect a cynical and jaded response from me about a lot of things, but before that there was hope and joy. That's the result of reopening the same wounds. That's the result of believing in people and being hurt by them over and over. Jaded and cynical humor is a defense mechanism for the wounds that ripped hope and joy from my grasp. “Some things are hard to let go. Some things are never enough…. But love is a long, long road” (Tom Petty, Love is a Long Road). My dad died five years ago on Valentine's Day.  Valentine's Day may as well be a political division in my home. In my grief, I'm the antagonist and want nothing to do with false idols in the shape of chocolate hearts. The other side is just hoping one day I'll get over it. The funny thing for me is that I've never really liked Valentine's Day. There's two that I remember with any degree of fondness, one involved a bouquet of wine (yeah, a case of wine in an arran...

I paid for snow removal for the first time, ever. “[M]aybe it’s just a change of climate,” but I haven’t seen a winter like this in a long time. I hate it. Not because it’s winter or even because snow is awful. When it gets cold enough to freeze and ice is a concern, I am gripped with anxiety. I’d rather hibernate. I hate what this kind of winter does to my body and my mind. “I have lived here before, the days of ice. And of course this is why I’m so concerned…” (Jimi Hendrix, Up from the Skies). There was a time as a kid that I loved winter because it meant sledding on the giant hill across from the hospital. Ironically, doing death-defying runs towards an icy creek in plain view of the emergency room. I loved hitting the slopes on Saturdays and that perfect ski day without falls, in a sweatshirt and jeans. By the time I was a six-foot tall teenager, walking places, and having to do most of the winter snow shoveling, I began to sour on the winter. Like, most things this wa...