Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Tales From the Vault - A Guest Blog by Kerry

Tales from the Vault is a feature where I bring back some of my favourite posts from the archived blog. All text from the original posts has been left completely unedited; however, where I think context is required it's been added.

To buy myself some more time picking through my favorite old posts, I decided to cheat again for my second installment of this feature and pick a guest blog. Because I really do love this post and was extra sad to have to delete it. So here you have it, no other context required because it's just so good. Welcome (again), Kerry from Transcending CP:

Kerry - age 3

I remember when I first realized that I was different.

I was three years old, doing exercises with my physical therapist while my brothers chased each other, blissfully unaware of cerebral palsy and the struggles that I faced.

As their laughter danced in the air, I turned to my therapist and asked, "Why are you making me do this?"

Her answer pierced me a like a knife and reduced me to tears: "Because you can't run."


I wish that I could speak to my devastated three-year-old self somehow...because yes, my therapist was right — my CP did rob me of the ability to run — but she failed to realize that oftentimes our greatest challenges are also our greatest teachers.

My CP has taught me that we are so much more than our bodies. Some people look at me and all they see is a stumble, a clumsy gait. They stare, then avert their eyes suddenly, and I see the pity flash in their eyes.

Truly, though, I pity them because they don't see the real me, the girl with fierce determination, a quiet sense of humor, and a deep desire to make the world a better place.


CP has also shown me that humanity on the whole is beautiful.

I saw this in my fourth grade classmates when we were jumping rope in physical education class. I can't really jump, so I was about to sit against the wall to watch.

That's when someone took my hand and showed me that they could swing the rope low enough so that I could step over it. Just like that, swinging the rope slowly and deliberately, they counted my steps.

To them, my differences made no difference.


And so what I wish I could tell my three-year-old self, what I'd like to say to anyone new to the world of CP, is this:

There will be days when you'll want to fall to your knees and cry, days when you will want to shout, "Why me?," days when you will wish that you could just shut your eyes and pray away all of the heartache that comes with disability.

And yet somehow you will see that there is beauty within that heartache. You will find yourself celebrating bits of life that other people take for granted. Most of all, though, with your eyes unclouded by pity, you will discover that life — not in spite of CP, but with CP — is nothing short of incredible.

1 comment:

  1. Aww, thank you so much for posting this again, Tracey! This was such a wonderful made my day! You are such a talented writer, and it was an honor to guest post for you! xoxo