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 ...

“Well, when you're sitting there in your silk upholstered chair Talking to some rich folk that you know Well, I hope you won't see me in my ragged company Well, you know I could never be alone” (Rolling Stones, Dead Flowers). My Dad's birthday would have been just the other day (from the time of posting), if he were still alive so this feels like a good time to understand the father-son relationship for me. The song that opens this post is what I would have played at my Dad's funeral had there been one and a whole host of other reasons.  Dead Flowers is the perfect Stones song for my dad in my memory. You see, my dad was the “ragged company”, only he didn't want the world to see that. For the number of people who looked down upon my dad and there were many (including me), I don't think it compared to his internal pain. He didn't want to be alone or alone with his pain.  I don't know why my dad became an addict, like I know the stories of being a hippie a...

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 yo...

“I saw you from a foreign window. Bearing down the sufferin’ road” (Van Morrison, Foreign Window). We all have stories and experiences that shape us into who we are. Some of the biggest for me, are Cerebral palsy, religion, and addiction within my family. The song above played in the background of a home movie during Christmas time when I was three years old. I discovered what the song was some thirty-eight years later. And I think the concept of a foreign window is exactly what I'm trying to do here. The human lens holds many avenues. I live with a disability, but I live with so much more than that, and I know you do too.  Many years ago, I was a student of the Bible and ministry. During an internship, I had the opportunity to go to Salt Lake City, Utah. One day on the trip, I was given the opportunity to give the sermon before the meal for the hungry and unhoused. I was volunteering with the Salvation Army and we were working with volunteers from the local Roman Catho...