We do our best to make ends meet, but it never seems to be enough. Either something doesn’t measure up to someone else’s standards, or someone else cuts to the front of the line so they can reap another person’s benefits. That’s the moment when we have to ask ourselves, ‘What kind of human being do I want others to see in me?’ and ‘What do I want people to remember?’
I was thinking about the answers to both of these questions as I made my way through college. I felt confident I was being treated equally and people on campus weren’t looking at my wheelchair. They were looking past it, which felt better than I ever imagined it would.
A significant amount of weight had been lifted off my shoulders without me having to say, “I have cerebral palsy.” I wanted to try to shed that weight completely. If I couldn’t, I wanted to continue to use my passion for writing as a motivation to show others what I was capable of. Not only that, but I was starting to earn the respect of my peers in college as well.
I began wondering, ‘If my writing can make that kind of impact here, what else could it do in an even bigger setting? How many more people would be willing to read what I write, and how would they take it?’ I wasn’t interested in making people feel bad for me. I couldn’t hide my disability any better now than when I was younger, so there was no point in trying. I wasn’t looking to radically change anyone’s minds about me or my circumstances, either.
The biggest thing I wanted at this point was for everyone to see the real me. I didn’t give much thought to anything else. I knew convincing “everyone” to see past my disability would be a gigantic feat, but I still felt like I had a responsibility to give others something to think about. I thought more people could make up their own minds if I gave them enough of myself.
If I continued to put myself out there through my writing, I knew everything else would come naturally – just like it had been in the few short months since I had arrived at Penn State Altoona. It wasn’t until I started crossing paths with people who had drastically different stories than mine, I realized how small my problems and worries truly were. They were people who have scratched, clawed, fought and struggled their entire lives. Many of them are still fighting, but have yet to give up.
There was a sharp, immediate sense they were cut from the same cloth as I was, as I learned more about them and their stories. I had no right to complain about anything in my life after hearing why these people were the way they were – from fighting cancer battles to choosing to travel halfway around the world to attend college and inadvertently build a new life and everything in between. I had no right to judge these people, either – and I didn’t. I knew the feeling of being judged all too well and wasn’t going to cast that shadow on them.
If anything, I hoped to be some small source of light for them. I had never known or heard of anyone who could not only crawl out of such deep, dark holes but also had the strength and resolve to rise from their circumstances so brilliantly and courageously. I felt like my writing was something I could offer them, to let them know they weren’t alone. And to also let them know they had a confidante in me if they ever chose to reach out.
I admittedly felt selfish for deeming my personal problems as heavy and troublesome. I asked myself at that moment, ‘What kind of person would I be if I gave up an opportunity to be something for someone else?’ and ‘Would I still have a chance to inspire others if I didn’t have cerebral palsy?’
I thought about it a lot. And still do. I also thought about whether or not the people I met in college would still want to be a part of my life after we graduated and moved on. Through thick, thin and some of the best years of my life, I don’t have to wonder anymore.
Never turn down an opportunity to lift someone up. You might be surprised what you learn about them – and yourself.
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