Cristina Crescenzo (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer
Cerebral palsy, by its simplest definition, is a physical disability that is caused by abnormal brain development or damage to the brain that affects a person’s ability to control their muscles. The type of CP I have is called spastic diplegia, which means that both sides of my body are affected by it, but my legs most especially. However, moving on from the pathology, I would say the most challenging part of this disability, aside from the physical toll on the body, would be the emotional implications. I went to physiotherapy every Saturday for 18 years to improve my condition, but I never took the time to consider what the strain on my body would do to my mental health. One had to take precedence over the other, so when I was finally freer to consider my feelings, the damage to my self-confidence and worth had already progressed exponentially. Thus, my teen years were so brutal that I didn’t think I’d make it to graduation.
Unfortunately, as pessimistic as it sounds, the world has shown me most cruelly that there are limits to my abilities. I should clarify to some who don’t believe my experience that they are not all self-imposed restrictions. My whole life, I have wanted something better for myself, and I also had two able-bodied siblings that I constantly compared myself to. The thought “Why me?” crossed my mind several times a day, and the question still pops up today, only a little bit less. As hard as I try not to let it affect me, it feels as if my life has been defined by one word since birth: disabled. As a child, I never knew I was different, and I genuinely believed I could do anything. Granted, all I had time to think about when I was young was what kind of hairstyle I wanted to have for school. Never once did I wonder why I was happy in the first place. I never asked my mom why I had to wear leg braces or why I had to go to physiotherapy once a week; it was just the norm.
However, now that I’m older, the last thing I want to do is wear my leg braces again and do my exercises, even if they would help ease the pain. It has become more difficult to deny my insecurities; I constantly fear that someone will say hurtful things or compare how I walk to an emotionless robot. I know that my mentality is a little pessimistic. I also know some people might say that I am just feeling sorry for myself and that I should try harder to persevere through every obstacle, but what I think most people forget is that there is a distinction between “going through” something different than most people in the population and actually “being made” different. Every experience I ever have in this world will be more complex than someone who is able-bodied. That is a fact of life I cannot deny. But this is just my reality. So many other disabilities come with their own complications, so I am speaking for no one else’s experience but my own.
Ultimately, all I can do is try my best and not let society dismiss my feelings and my story because it is valid, even though it can sometimes be maudlin. I don’t want to define myself by this, but it is a part of who I am, so I have to find a way to leave a positive mark on the world as a disabled woman, and that is why I try to advocate for disability awareness and our rights through my writing as much as I can. Therefore, I have learned that though things can seem bleak, there is still time to turn your greatest weakness into your greatest strength.
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My name is Cristina Crescenzo and I am an aspiring writer with something to say as I try to figure things out. More than anything, I want to be able to connect with people through my writing, and I want to be a constant advocate of disability and mental health awareness.