Living with Cerebral Palsy and Intersectionality

“All I can say is that my life is pretty plain You don't like my point of view and I'm insane” (No Rain, Blind Melon).  I didn't always turn my nose up at America's favorite escape, professional sports, in fact I used to be drawn to them in different ways. You couldn't live where I grew up and ignore football, it wasn't possible. Hockey was cool because of movies like the Mighty Ducks. Baseball was fun because of the Sandlot and because kids still talked about actual baseball cards. I did some practice goaltending for soccer. And, I had a basketball hoop on the garage. In the fourth grade, I learned how to throw a spiral pass in gym class, something I still remember how to do today (it was taught incredibly well). I loved the idea of playing ice hockey or even roller hockey, mostly because of movies, but I knew early on that I could barely stay steady on my feet let alone on a pair of blades.  I still have the baseball bats I've had since I was a kid. Not ha...

“I've found what I've been waiting for, but to get there means crossing a line…I got demons inside me | So I'm faced with a choice | Either try to ignore them | Or I give them a voice” (Crossing a Line, Mike Shinoda).  The truth is, it's easier for me to talk about intersectionality most of the time than it is to talk about the CP. I've lived with Cerebral Palsy my whole life and I can talk about anything (even football and I don't pay attention to that). Why was it easier to write a three part piece on grief and my dad than it is for me to tell you what it's like to live with CP? Because “to get there means crossing a line.” I have to connect the dots between what you can see, what you can't see, what I haven't wanted you to see, and then hope you care.  For me, life with Cerebral Palsy goes well beyond the medical journey. It's the names I was called that I can still hear decades later. It's the fights I had to back out of because my will i...

“For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not” (Father and Son, Cat Stevens).  My father died on Valentine's Day when I was thirty seven years old. I couldn't go anywhere because of what was happening in the world at the time. I went to work the next day. A couple of years ago I was sitting with some close friends and I was talking about losing both of my parents before I turned forty. One of them asked, “what's that like?” My only response, “un-fucking-describable.” It's weird. I don't know how to describe the feeling that lives with me every day. I get close sometimes, but I don't think I've ever really captured it.  I don't know why I picked the opening quote only to follow it with my opening line. Most of my dreams were based on the life I left behind. Some other dreams went sideways. But, like life, dreams evolve. Change is the one constant in life.  I mentioned a couple of posts ago that I had expected my dad to die since I was four...

“There's so much you have to go through” (Father and Son, Various Artists).  In my last post, I made a conscious choice to talk about my father. There were some things I intentionally left out. I don't think I'll ever tell it all. In this post and the next I'll share a little bit more. This will be a journey from the hero lenses to the greatest heartache of my life.  For my first seven out of ten surgeries, my dad was a constant presence. My dad got me to and from PT. My dad sparked my love of music. My parents divorced when I was three years old and one of my sisters and I lived with our dad. He was custodially the stable parent (something I'm sure I can thank my parental grandparents for). I don't remember exactly when I went from a child looking up to my father to caretaking for him, but there's a pivotal moment.  One day when I was fourteen, my dad took me for a walk and told me that he was chronically Ill and expected the disease to kill him. From that ...