Brain Stew: Why Cerebral Palsy AND Intersectionality?

I once wrote," I'm the cynic to your peace; you're the beauty to my beast.” It is incredibly difficult to have a positive view of self when for most of my life, I've been fighting internally and externally to be seen, heard, respected, and loved. Today, I explore the “brain stew” because it means so much to how I function in the world.

I started talking about my life with CP because it helps to talk about it. It also helps others who feel unseen to be seen. But, on selfish days, it helps me to be seen. However, I cannot truly be seen if I only talk about living with Cerebral Palsy. I have to address growing up in an environment of addictions, growing up in a religious vortex, growing up around mental illness, and both the physical and emotional impact the journey has had on me.

It seems that disability inclusion is a relatively new thing. I know in my own lifetime, I was called names for the way I walk. But, apparently, being inclusive is now a dirty word that makes you soft. I guarantee you, the type of people that think that can't walk a day in my shoes. If that sounds arrogant, I don't care because I'm speaking facts. 

I literally lost count of the number of people in my life that have died, all before I turned 40 years old. Grief doesn't go away. You evolve with it. I've had ten surgeries in my life and struggle everyday to keep my body from falling apart. In the past year, I spent roughly 10% of my income on out-of-pocket medical expenses. (yes, that's with insurance and after premiums). Emotionally, I live between the pain of the past and the self-work of the present. A couple of years ago, I was told that there's such a layer cake of stress on my plate that it's no wonder, I don't remember things in the short term the way that I used to, and now I have to write everything down. And, now I have to observe a culture that says I'm soft for having feelings. I can tell you for a fact that it takes strength to sit with your feelings, especially when they're dark and heavy. This is just a snapshot. It takes a lot for me to give you the real meat of the matter. Because some people in my lifetime have enjoyed keeping me down and putting me in my place. So, there's a reluctance to do this. 

But, you can kind of see in that last paragraph why the intersection is so important. Even I can't tell you, which part of my life context has a bigger impact: living with CP, having addicts for parents, being a codependent caretaker, being the pillar of strength when their mental health didn't allow it for them, or the Church that was supposed to be my source of hope but took just as much as it gave. It all defines the way I see the world. It all feeds the cynicism. I'm not a victim of these things. I'm a survivor. My goal now is to thrive in spite of all of it.

There are days that I don't want to talk about life with CP because I feel like I have yet to find a formula that helps people even close to me truly see. There are days that I don't talk about the other stuff because I know if I do, I need somebody to be comfortable sitting with the pain and the anger, instead of telling me that it's too heavy or too real. I see who I need to see and I talk to who I need to talk to in order to address my scars on a deeper level. 

I share my stories with you and hope that it'll make a difference. I want you to ask questions. I need you to ask questions. Because stories are how healing happens. Stories are how we learn. Stories are the difference between being silenced and being heard. I wanted to give you the full picture of my context because I never talked about this stuff before I started doing this. It's not my intent to cast judgment on the life I came from, though I have plenty of times. It's my intent to illustrate the amount of resilience it takes to succeed in spite of the journey. I've made it to places I was never supposed to go and sometimes that's in spite of myself. Anything is possible. I choose to honor my stories, even though there's a lot of pain there – which you can plainly see. I do this because I don't believe anybody else will do it for me. 

I'm not proud of having CP, but I'm not mad about it either. Sometimes I'm grateful for it because it helps me check my anger, when the other parts of my story flare up. I'm not proud of being an adult child of an alcoholic and an addict. But, I reject the shame that so often comes with that. At the end of the day, we're all people, and we all have to deal with whatever's on our plate. Even the stuff we bring to it ourselves. I'm not proud of leaving the Church, but I'm glad I finally had the courage to do it. I needed my voice to be free. The worst thing you can ever do to me is silence me. My voice and who I am is what I bring to the conversation of life. 

All of this is how I show up with compassion for the stranger. It's how I reflect on what I could do differently and where I've been a part of my own ableism. It's how I'm reminded that no matter the circumstances, I can grow through them, I can fall with them, I can change with them, I can live a life beyond them. Your context matters. It's how you show up in the world everyday or why you choose to show up differently. For me, it's not life with CP or life with the other stuff. It's life with CP and everything else. The intersection is my story. 

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more Cerebral Palsy and intersectionality. Feel free to share a question in the comments and maybe I'll write a story about it.