I'm Probably Never Going to Walk on my Own Again... I Can't Remember the Last Time I've Felt More Relieved

The last time I went to physical therapy, my therapist put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a piece of advice given to me by others many times before, but I never really listened to it.

“Don’t beat yourself up over things you can’t control.“

This time I didn’t have much choice other than to listen. In fact, it had been on my mind for a while. In the weeks and months prior, we had been working to try to teach some of my leg muscles how to fire properly, so eventually I could stand, up straighter, balance with more ease, and walk with a bit more fluidity.

The thing is, nothing seemed to make much of a difference. Switching up workout routines to hit my legs every day in some capacity; electric stimulation on my lower quads to get them going as a do various exercises; stretching, Botox injections in my hamstrings to ease spasticity that might be fighting against the muscle in my quads. We saw no real identifiable results. There was a decent chance that I may never see improvement. Maybe the time for improving despite my CP was over, and now the

He discharged me. and as we wrapped up the last session, I think he could see that I was trying to hold it together. I was debating if the Golden State Warriors would beat the Lakers in the playoffs (they didn’t), making fun of his golf score from days before.

“Everyone needs a little bit of a handicap.“

In reality, I was all of a sudden forced to come to terms with the possibility that he, and others, were right. This inevitably led to a rush of memories and regret. What if I played less video games and exercised more when I was 15? What if I wasn’t so arrogant about my situation all those years ago? What if I didn’t do this? What if I did do that? Nonstop.

When I got back in my car I cried and called my mom. On the drive home, I thought back to a presentation I gave in my high school public speaking class over 10 years ago about cerebral palsy. I had stood in front of my audience as I rattled off facts and statistics. I felt a certain sense of pride when I told them that roughly half of individuals with cerebral palsy use a wheelchair. I, however, was not one of them.

Yet, apparently.

I called out of work and cried a bit more. I started the search for a new therapist - this time, for my mental health. I thought this was going to destroy me. I failed. All that work and pain and scars for nothing. All those years for nothing. Or maybe I didn’t do enough. It didn’t matter now though. I still ended up at the same place.

I won’t lie. I told a lot of people pretty quickly. I was just looking for someone to tell me it was going to be ok or that MAYBE there was still a chance. What really made a difference was something else though.

A few friends made me realize something far more valuable. This was always going to be a possibility, and I can let go of some lofty goal. That I should just figure out a way to be happy, and shift my focus. Cliche, yes, but a nearly three-decade-old case of brain damage is hard to beat, and I’m not special. I could end up as one of those people rocking a wheelchair all the time. There are certain things about my body I simply cannot control, and I may never be able to.

I owe it to myself and the people I love to be happy. Find a way to reach goals in other areas rather than chase the ghost of my ten-year-old, goofy-gaited self. I don’t want to tell people years from now that I peaked in elementary school. I want to be able to be someone that kids would look up to, even if I do end up fully wheelchair-bound. The last few weeks of coming to terms with this have been so freeing.

I’m still looking for therapists, and suggestions are welcome. I’m writing more, staying active, and saying “yes“ to more opportunities. I’m devoting myself more to this project, which I have stopped and started so many times. I’m able to be more present for myself and those around me doing the things that I really want to do because I don’t have the guilt of not doing enough to fight the CP looming over me. It just kind of is what it is.

Don’t get me wrong. A lot of days still REALLY suck and in ways, I’m still grieving. I am still going to keep working to see what progress I can make despite my CP, but I am letting go of the notion that I’m failing if I don’t win some lifelong battle to get out of the chair.

I only fail if I let the battle consume me.