And The Wheels Keep Turning...

THIS BLOG IS MOVING!

2010-10-17T11:42:00.002-04:00

Hi everyone!! Sad (and happy) to annouce that my blog is going to be moving to a new host site and domain.

I'm pretty much doing this because blogger won't allow be to use my gmail e-mail account as a primary account. The e-mail I use was through school and will be deleting soon. Cue depression about being a graduate! :(

Not to worry, I've moved all my subscriptions over, so I won't lose touch with any of you wonderful bloggers!

Also, Wordpress just seems more fun and user friendly! So, come find me!

mecarta.wordpress.com

Sometimes All It Takes...

2010-10-14T22:30:00.004-04:00

...is one simple little statement to inspire you. And to cause you to be completely honest with yourself and your feelings. I've been completely unmotivated to blog lately and, honestly, completely unmotivated to do much of anything. There's no real reason. I think I'm just in a "trying to find my way" stage again, and sometimes when that happens all I want to do is sit in my bed and eat ice cream while looking up various things on the internet; some of which are completely and utterly useless. I have most definitely not been entirely honest with myself or others regarding my emotions either.

I've been trying really hard to stick to my exercises and stretching and I was doing well for about a week and a half, I think because I was noticing even the smallest amount of improvement (aka being HAPPY that I was sticking to it), but then things started to change.

On Sunday afternoon, I finally secured my registration in the Columbia Autumn Classic Road Race to benefit Camp Care. This was the first 5k I did last year, and my first one ever, so there was no way I was not going to race it again. It's been stressing me out a lot though since I registered, and I think that's playing a role in all of this. My loyal readers will notice I never did a true recap of the Hope is Coming 5k in August. That's because it was miserable. To say the least. My leg's cramped within the first mile, it was way hotter than expected, and my time was so far off of my goal. Did I finish? Yes. Was I happy about it or proud of myself? No way in Hell. Here's the thing. The course was an out and back, so as I was approaching Mile 1, I saw people already on their way back--finishing in 22 minutes, 30 minutes, 45 minutes. As each person passed me going the opposite direction and as each foot pounded down on the pavement, it felt like a painful reminder of the differences I face, something I so often, and so effectively, shove out of my mind.

So, you know what, I'll admit it. I'm terrified of this race on the 24th. I'm terrified that I will cramp up again and my body will reject EVERYTHING that my brain is asking it to accomplish. I am terrified that I will go in with a goal to do better that last year, and that belief in myself and mental determination won't be enough. I'm terrified that I am looked at as "the girl with CP" who does these 5k just so I can feel good about myself or so that I can gain some attention in the "able-bodied" world.

But most importantly, I'm terrified that I set myself up for failure by putting myself in these situations. Failure is my comfort zone. Quitting and having people quit on me is my comfort zone. Having to defend myself against labels and the "you can't do thats" is my comfort zone. And I don't want this to be that. I'm terrified that it will.

All this being said, I'm trying so hard to not let it be that compfort zone and when I heard this quote on Grey's Anatomy tonight, it reminded me that I have to keep fighting:
"You don't find something you love that much and let it go. You hold onto it, throw yourself in deeper."
It's not so much the 5ks that I love (even though I do get runner's high and do love them), or the spinning, or the balance exercises or the stretching. It's the happiness I find in them and through them. Happiness when I show signs of improvement. Happiness when I take control of my own life. That happiness is not something I can afford to lose. So, I will continue to run (well, walk), I will continue to spin, I will continue to work on my PT, and I will continue to find my way.

I want that happiness to be my new comfort zone.

(Nearly) Wordless Weekend: Camp Care 2010

2010-09-12T10:39:00.010-04:00

I was going to make this a wordless post completely, but couldn't really do that. I woke up thinking about how to go about writing my Camp Care post and realized writing wouldn't happen at all. There are simply no words. So I figured I'd give you all a glimpse of the amazing piece of my life that is Camp Care through the photos and memories of these wonderful, loving children! I'm sad to say that none of these photos are actually mine. Most days I forget my camera or was having too much fun to worry about pictures, but I have great friends who let me share theirs!

So here's a week in the life of a Camp Care Child: PT (there's no pics of that..sorry!!), Rec Time, Lake Time, and a few from the annual Talent Show!

Enjoy... :)

These children are what make Camp for me. And let me tell you, in 5 days, they heal our bodies, minds, and hearts, much more than we heal theirs. I am sure of it! The looks on there faces, like that of Dominic's, when they get to experience the freedom of water without fear, or like Bella when she got to play basketball, put life into perspective for me. Oh, and another thing, it is rare that we even know a child's diagnosis at Camp, unless a parent tells us or a therapist. That label simply doesn't matter here.

I had my own expereiences at Camp too, of course, much like I blogged about last year in this post. The difference this year was that I was a Camp Care (adult) Kid myself for the morning sessions, then volunteered in the afternoon. This means I went through the 2.5 hour PT session in the morning. It. Was. Amazing. A week of free, intensive PT like I've never gotten before and will be lucky to get again. There were so many changes for me throughout the week, from things like increasing my overall body and mechanics awareness to standing longer, straighter, and more confidently to, on the last day of camp, being able to kneel and almost sit back completely on my heels. Something I don't remember ever being able to do. So, for that, I'll leave you with a few more photos...

Photo Credits: Jennifer Walts and Theresa Kaminsky. Thanks girls!

Exercise, More Than Just Weights and Gyms

2010-08-28T02:03:00.005-04:00

Okay, okay, I've been a bad blogger! I'm sorry! I know I have so many posts to write, including a recap of the Hope is Coming 5k and everything about Camp Care 2010. They'll come, I promise! Right now though, when I can't sleep, something else is coming to my mind...exercise.

This has been on my mind a lot lately. I've always loved exercise! Okay, maybe not loved, but it's always interested me at least. Even when it wasn't really something I was good at. And even when it was just annoying stretches, that seemed really pointless, the school PTs I had would give me. I knew there had to be some benefit. As I got older, exercise went from being more of a chore, to really becoming a hobby for me. Whether it was karate, horseback riding, spinning, lifting, and now running, I always have loved the concept of pushing my body to a point where it isn't a body with a neurological condition anymore-it's a body. Period. A body that needs to tap into it's mental strength to get through the workout.

Running, well walking, has been at the forefront of my hobbies lately as most of you know, and I've been toying with the idea of becoming more serious with it. And by serious I mean actually training for prolonged periods of time instead of the week before a race. :) I decided to google CP, exercise, runner, and blog to see what came up and came across two wonderful bloggers and their blogs: Katy over at Teen Cerebral Palsy and Greg over at The Casual Vegan. Both have CP, and both are very much into exercise. On one of Katy's posts, Greg commented with the question of how many of us are into serious exercise, so I thought I'd add my two cents.

Even though my history with exercise has been pretty much on going in some way or another for my whole 21 years, it really has begun to pick up recently and I consider it to be at an even bigger starting point right now than it ever has been.

For the past few months, after my treatments at Crossroads I've been going downstairs to work with Dan in the gym. If you're reading this, hey dude, you're famous. :) The whole concept intimidated me at first. It took me years-literally-to join a gym, and I'm still not fully comfortable doing any form of organized exercise with another person. This was going to be a whole new test for me. Sometimes even the little tasks that you wouldn't even think would be an issue for me if you knew me, like shooting a basketball, are tough. It's not something I really like to make an issue of, so letting someone who I consider my best friend see something like that was not something I was looking forward to.
Painfully long story short, thank God that Dan has this job, because it definitely helps to have someone you trust and who believes in you working with you (Side note to my new special needs parent readers: listen to your child if they tell you they don't like their PT. Chances are it's more than they just don't like the exercise itself. The relationship is THE most important factor in success!!).
Some days are harder than others, just like they would be for the average person in a workout. Some tasks are harder than others. As me to do a push-up? Done. My arms are beasts. Ask me to practice walking using only a giant physio ball as my balancing aid? I'm sweating and exhausted after 3 steps.

No matter what it is I'm working on though, that same feeling of pushing my body comes through. I have goals just like anyone else. And I need to work to make them happen. I think this has really started to hit me between Camp this year and last week's workout.

Phase One: I'll get more into this when I get the time to write a true Camp post, but one night afterward, a bunch of us decided to do a Crossfit workout (read between the lines: INSANE!). I don't really know what pushed me to want to join everyone that night, I still say it was divine intervention, but here I was in a room of people that I look up to immensely for their physical and mental strength and I was about to workout along side them. I was all set to have my own little Molly workout somewhere off to the side while they did their thing, when I was pretty much told that wasn't happening and I was doing the same workout. Okay, so I didn't do the 50 pull-ups, but that was purely for logistical reasons. I did 50 pull-downs instead. :) For the first time, I was completely comfortable and completely in this element. The mental overtook the physical and I was just pushing to get to the goal. Which happened to be girls vs. guys, so clearly I needed to do my part.

Phase Two: This week I was working with Dan and I was walking with the ball. I was getting completely exhausted super quick as usual, but I needed this week to be different. I've been selling myself so short lately with so many things and I needed to push through being tired and scared that I was going to fall any second and just keep working toward my goal literally one step at a time. For me, it's always going to be harder to push through the barrier-physical or mental-in this type of a setting because it's one-on-one. Not to mention that because I'm working on tasks that are meant to push my body and meant to help me get stronger in ways that I greatly lack due to having CP, the chance for struggle and frustration is going to be much higher. But something that I had to do this week made me realize that, that struggle and frustration is okay because it's getting me somewhere. I was standing and holding on to a set of suspended rings for balance. I was pretty nervous and probably having a little harder time than I was letting on. I for sure thought I couldn't hold myself up on my legs any longer, but probably made it at least 30 seconds longer than I was telling myself I could. Afterward I started thinking that it doesn't matter if I'm working my butt off running miles as some would, or if I'm spending that extra 30 seconds working on a balance activity. I'm still pushing my body and I'm still going to get my goals.

Finding the right balance of pushing myself and holding back was hard for me at first, and it still is. I want to treat my body just as anyone else would treat theirs, but I also have to be prepared for it sometimes to physically react differently with more fatigue and recovery time. I'm not too good at this, because it requires patience, a virtue I have yet to fully master, but I'm getting there. I'm constantly learning anytime I do any form of workout, that my body is just like everyone else's in that it's going to change from day to day and I really need to listen to it. That doesn't mean though that I give myself a free pass to just sit on the couch all day because I have CP and need to modify some things or because someone says it might not be the best idea for my body. I know my body. I will make that decision.

No, I don't know how many of us out there are into serious exercise (sorry if you were looking for that statistical answer), but I know I officially can't live without it.

Oh, and one more note to my parent readers: if your child shows any interest at all in any form of physical activity or recreation-or even if they don't-don't hesitate to get them involved!! Even if a doctor, or PT, or protective family member tells you not to. And even if it's not necessarily geared toward kids with special needs. I think sometimes it's better for it to be a more mainstream activity. They will tell you what is right for them. And it just might change their life. It changed mine!!

Less Than 48 hours...5k playlist!!

2010-08-05T18:30:00.005-04:00

With less than 48 hours until 3.2 miles, I think I've FINALLY finalized my playlist. I thought I'd post it here for anyone who might be interested. Thanks Katie for all the help!! Here it is!

Rocky Balboa Speech-Sylvestre Stalone 2:06
Beautiful Day-U2 4:08
Unstoppable (Olympics Mix)-Rascal Flatts 3:41
We Weren't Born to Follow-Bon Jovi 4:10
Not Afraid-Eminem 4:11
All In-Lifehouse 3:56
Move Along-The All-American Rejects 3:57
Higher-Creed 5:17
Shook Up The World-Puddle Of Mudd 4:49
Stronger (Radio Edit)-Kanye West 4:13
Real-The Goo Goo Dolls 3:26
Whatever It Takes-Lifehouse 3:27
No Boundaries-Adam Lambert 3:48
Don't Stop Believin'-Journey 4:13
Marchin' On-OneRepublic 4:12
Maybe Tonight, Maybe Tomorrow (LIVESTRONG Song)-Wideawake 4:35
Happy-Leona Lewis 4:02
Insomnia-Faithless 7:16
Party In The USA-Miley Cyrus 3:23
'Til I Collapse-Eminem & Nate Dogg 4:58
Feel Alive-Benassi Bros. 4:48
All These Things I've Don e (Short Version)-The Killers 2:23
The Adventure-Angels & Airwaves 5:12

As of right now, this is it. I hope to be finished after the LIVESTRONG Song. Yes, I planned that perfectly to be 59 minutes not including the Rocky Speech. Don't judge me! :) If not, the last 7 are backup. Hope you like it!! If there's anything that youthink MUST be added, comment!

Official timing is being done by Hi-Tek Racing, so if we get our bib numbers early enough I'll post it here so you can follow me. If not, I'll definitely post a post-race report by Monday!

Any and all prayers and positive vibes you can send this way starting at 9am Saturday would be appreciated! :)

Why Do I?

2010-07-24T18:40:00.016-04:00

I may not entirely love being an unemployed college graduate right now, but if there's anything I do love about it, it'd be all this free time I have to think up, and write, more blog posts!! What wisdom do I have to share today you ask? Well, it's not really wisdom at all I don't think. Instead, I thought I'd give my readers a little glimpse into my brain and what makes me tick. Lately, I feel like my life has solidified, more so than ever, around three interests--passions if you want to call them that (I do!).

These three passions are: Cycling and Spinning, Lance Armstrong and his LIVESTRONG campaign, and 5k races.

For the past 20 days, I've been getting up at ungodly hours (okay, maybe not, but they are for a college grad!) to watch the 2010 Tour de France. Now, my first motivation for doing this was to watch Lance Armstrong in his second year of a retirement comeback and his-really now-last official Tour. More on that later though. I've been a follower of the sport for many years now, since Lance Armstrong's original comeback in 1999 after his battle with cancer, and I often get asked if I stopped watching the tour when he retired, or if I'll keep watching now that he'll really be done. My answer is always yes. Cycling is not just a sport that you can check yourself out of when your favorite rider is gone as you might with some other sport. I don't just familiarize myself with the top riders in the peloton (big group on the road), I know them all. I make it a point. I've learned a lot about the tactics of this intense endurance sport, and see the benefits of cycling being both a team and individual sport. Cycling has truly become one of my passions.

It is because of that passion that I took up spinning-indoor cycling-in the summer of 2007. I knew that I probably could not ride a true road bike, for reasons I talked about in this post, but eventually Spinning became my road biking. It became my release of negativity that life can sometimes bring, and my hour of "me time". I cherished, and still do cherish, my ability to spin at least once a week. I know this is not something that not everyone can make the time for and I know that many people with CP or other disabilities might have difficulty doing. I thank God that I was blessed to believe that I could take part in such a class and go out and do it. Thanks to my beginning interests in cycling, spinning is now a passion that I can't live without.

Lately, I've developed an interest in another interesting endurance sport: running. Okay, so maybe I don't exactly run, but still. It all started last October. A friend of mine called me asked me if I wanted to do a 5k with her that Sunday that was going to benefit Camp Care, the free camp for children with special needs, run by Crossroads Physical Therapy which I've talked about here. I could not turn down the opportunity, but 3.2 miles? Continuously? Was I nuts? Yes! Not only was this a continuous 3.2 miles, but it was ALL uphill!! Except for the last .2 miles. Either way though, I walked the entire race and finished it in 2 hours, 11 minutes and 33 seconds! It was the most amazing feeling to cross that finish line on my own and take pride in such an accomplishment. After taking part in that 5k, I realized that you don't need to be running to have the "runner's high". It's simply chasing a dream, feeling on top of the world, and in control. Run or walk. I've done another 5k since-the George Washington Bridge Challenge 5k across the GWB. It was an American Cancer Society event I did with my friend from college who has a cousin diagnosed with Leukemia shortly after birth. He is now 6 and in remission!! Again, it was an amazing experience. I completed that race in 1 hour, 18 minutes, and 12 seconds! I think the major time difference had a lot to do with the GWB being completely flat, but it was also the attitude. I'm doing my next 5k 2 weeks from today. The Hope is Coming 5k to benefit the Smillow Cancer Hospital. My goal is to get my time down to an hour or less (slightly irrational I know).

Okay, I've shared two of my passions. By now I probably just sound like a crazed "wannabe athlete". Some of you might even be saying, "But this can't be safe/healthy/whatever you'd like to call it, because you have CP" So, WHY DO I do this?! Well, that's where passion #3, and the strongest passion of all comes in.

It started as an idol, moved into a hobby, and has now transformed into a mantra and a way of life. LIVESTRONG. The one word motto from Lance Armstrong after he launched his foundation to raise money and awareness for cancer research. I've always looked up to Lance for his courage, strength, and overall ability to fight, and beat, the odds. When he launched LIVESTRONG, I just looked up to him that much more. Whether he ever enters the pro-peloton again. Or any sporting event for that matter, he has taught me what it really means to fight, to triumph, to believe in a cause, and to make a change. THAT is why I do this. Because it's not a matter of just living, but living strong. With every pedal stroke and every step I take on a course, I am putting the LIVESTRONG way of life into action.

If I ever doubt my abilities, or whether it's safe for "someone with CP" to be doing these things, I look down to my left wrist where my yellow LIVESTRONG wristband sits, and am reminded that this is my life, and I will hold the same attitude I have since I began following Lance Armstrong in 1999.

I know I have a wide variety of readers to this blog, but I encourage you (and your children!) to find your own ways to live the LIVESTRONG way of life. :)

Photo Credits:

Peloton Photo: http://www.photosfan.com/images/2009-tour-de-france1.jpg

Livestrong Photos: Twitter.com/lancearmstrong

Inspiration Friday

2010-07-16T22:31:00.002-04:00

For my readers, here at home and in my special needs community, check out this article my friend Katie sent me.

The article is about 8 Year Old Abby who created lemonade stand kits and the slogan "When Life Gives You Lemons, COLOR" in order to raise money for donations to a hospital where her 6 year old brother Cameron, who was diagnosed with CP, attends many for many PT treatments and different procedures.

This little girl is truly inspirational and exemplifies what life is all about...

NICU

2010-07-15T18:32:00.004-04:00

First of all, this post was inspired by Ellen over at Love That Max. I'm not sure if I've talked about Ellen before, but she's mom to Max, a wonderful 7 year old with CP. She is an amazing mom and all she does for her children definitely shows through her writing! Ellen's blog was the first I followed and I'm simply addicted to it! Check it out and I'm sure you will be too! Her blog really inspired me to put everything out there in each of my posts, because you just never know who might stumble upon it one day. THANK YOU ELLEN! :)

This week is Babies Week on Discovery Health Channel, and they are premiering a new show called NICU following 3 top Neonatal Intensive Care units in the country. This show is pretty exciting for those of us in the special needs community, because it showcases the beginnings of life which so many of us have experience with (preemies, trauma at birth, etc.) I invite you all to read Ellen's post about the NICU experience and the connection we all share before continuing on with my post here, because I can't do it justice...

Did you finish reading yet??

Really, I meant it, go read the post.

Okay, you should be done now! This post really touched me, for the obvious reasons, and because everything that Ellen talked about knowing as a mother of a child with special needs, I can say I have also felt or known growing up with CP. This is what I said in response to Ellen's post. I don't think I could say it this way if I tried it again, so I'm just going to paste it in.

I know that a lot of parents read this blog, so on a post that touches so many of you, I thought maybe I'd share a "child's" perspective...I'm not a parent of a child with special needs. I am a child with special needs. Well, more an adult now, but every one of those things you mentioned that you know as a parent of a child with CP, I can honestly say I know each of those too, having CP. It's obviously very different for a parent than it is for a child. I don't remember a lot of what would have probably been the "tougher" times for my parents, but I do remember my own thoughts of doctors visits, surgeries, etc. They are tough, they effect a child's life, but I'm here to assure you...your child is strong and will make it through each of them as they are meant to.I know what you mean about always feeling that empathy for preemies even though Max was not a preemie. I was a preemie (born at 24 weeks), so I too have that connection. For me, that empathy comes more from seeing my own experiences possibly play out in the life of another child, experiences that I have no recollection of and that I will probably never have the courage to ask my parents honest questions about. Now that I am an adult, that empathetic connection comes in the form of thinking about preemies now, the technology that medicine has to give them such a great shot at high quality of life. And it also comes in the form of thinking about my own children I someday hope to have. Will I have a preemie child myself, will I watch them struggle in some of the same ways I have, or--perhaps even more strongly weighing on my heart--will I be upset and even slightly jealous if my child learns to walk within their first year of life, while I am still trying at age 22, will they surpass their own mom in milestones?I don't know what so many of you face daily as parents of children with special needs, but I do know we are all connected--parent and child alike, and you can bet I'll be DVRing and watching along with all of you in my community tonight!

I hope you all tune in, or DVR the premeire tonight on Discovery Health at 10 PM ET and PT.
Oh, and, Ellen said I should be a guest poster on her blog, which is pretty darn exciting!! :)

What If?

2010-05-28T22:20:00.002-04:00

Living everyday life, we are all faced with so many moments that can be altered by the flick of a switch; one quick change of plans, one spur of the moment decision, out of fear, out of doubt, out of curiousity. In these moments, we rarely think about the next step. We are only concerned with the here and now. Not that this is a bad thing, but sometimes it can lead us to ask that one loaded question: What If?

Two words. Two little words. That have the ability to impact our lives in so many different levels, both positively and negatively. I try my best to not play the what if game because, quite fankly, it always seems to end negatively for me.

The other day though, I was incredibly bored, so I was looking for quotes as I often do when I'm bored, or upset, or need to lose my thoughts in words for a little bit. After a while, I came across this quote:
"It will cost you nothing to dream, and everything not to."

Many people like to think of dream as a noun-that thing that happens when we're in deep enough sleep. I like to think of it that way too, but there is also another way I like to think of the word dream; as a verb. Dream. An action. Something that we do day in and day out.

This got me thinking. What If? With that, here is a list of things that I would not have accomplished, had I not dreamed:

1. I would not be alive. Period. Okay, so this might be a stretch, but I like to think that with a dream, determination, and a lot of love from God, I was able to overcome being 3 months premature to live the life I do now.
2. I would not have graduated high school. I mean, okay, I might have, but only because my parents required it of me, not because I actually wanted to.
3. I would not have gone to college. See above explanation.
4. I would not have the amazing relationships with so many people that I do now. You may ask what this has to do with dreaming, but it has everything to do with dreaming. As little girls, we think about friends. They may start as imaginary, but thanks to our dreaming, we put ourselves out there and establish strong relationships.
5. I would not have taken a spinning class. This is big. I have always dreamed of riding a bike, but due to my poor balance issues, have never had the opportunity. Spinning is the extention of this dream. It started out difficult, with cuts and fatigue, but I was not going to let this dream pass me by.
6. I would not have graduated college, and would not have done so with the use of my crutches. I blogged about this is my previous post, but that was something that, again so many people doubted was possible, but I kept dreaming.
And lastly, 7. I would not be writing this blog post. I continue to dream. Every minute of every day. For myself. For my family. For everyone in the world.

What about you? What If you hadn't dreamed? Where would you be?

Intelligence: it's not just academic...

2010-05-01T23:15:00.003-04:00

Today is Blogging Against Disablism Day 2010. For those of you who follow my blog that may not know what this day is, or what disablism is (mainly, well, all of you!):

BADD is a day where those of us who have disabilities or have family members with disabilities come together to blog about our situations and some of the different issues we have faced regarding Disablism. Disablism is really any topic having to do with disability discrimnation, or treating children and adults with disabilities different in a positive or negative matter because of their disability.

Having had Cerebral Palsy since birth, I've obviously grown up with situations that weren't always ideal in regards to my disability. There were some instances when I could not partake in certain activities that my peers were taking part in or when I had to take more time to do certain things that might have come easily to others. However, despite all these difficulties and obstacles, my life up through this very day has been nothing short of amazing. Thanks to so many wonder family, friends, and therapists I have gotten to do so many wonderful things with my life...including attend an amazing university (from which I will be graduating in 15 days. AHHH!!) The education I've recieived has greatly impacted so many areas of my life, and has expanded my intelligence.

There is a different kind of intelligence that I'd like to talk about though. Some call it common sense, some call it generousity. Me? I call it LIFE intelligence.

There have been so many times in my life when I've come into contact with individual who don't only think I'm not intelligent, but act unintelligent themselves. This intelligence is simple. It comes in the form of holding a door open for a person with crutches, or hanging back with one of your friends because you know they aren't quite speedy, while everyone gets to where they want to go at top speed, afraid of missing 5 minutes of life. This intelligence is not telling someone they cannot do something, but showing them a way to do it that they may nto be aware of. It's telling a friend you are offering up your dance practices for them because you know dance is the one thing they love so much, but will probably never do.

I have been so blessed to meet many people who have developed this intelligence. Unfortunately though, I have also met many people who have not even the slightest idea that this type of intelligence even exists.

Tonight, 2 minutes before BADD 2010 comes to a close, I leave you with a question: Which type of person have you been to those with diabilities you have met?

Just Believe

2010-04-17T23:10:00.004-04:00

NOTE: The original date this post was started was April 17, 2010...

Today I was sitting down with a friend talking about, and stressing about, this goal that I have that I've mentioned before of walking by myself across the graduation stage. As of yesterday I had one month until that day. It's been love-hate with me and this topic and well, lately it's been hate. Not that I don't want to or that I've given up, it's just been a struggle. A struggle of faith, a struggle of strength, and more than anything a struggle of mental stability.

Do you ever want something so badly that it consumes you? So badly that it becomes you? That's me.

Over the past few months, while other things in my life have been hanging by the wayside and some barely hanging on, this has flourished. It's become stronger and stronger. I've broken through the fear (mostly) and I've broken through my need to keep it a secret. It has been an amazing feeling to wake up and know that I can step out on my own, even if only for a step or two before the ground below me feel like it's shaking...a feeling that I'm sure most of you reading this take advantage of without even meaning to. It's been even more amazing to do this and to call my mom and say, "Hey, this is what I did just now", something I haven't been able to do for years, out of my own fear of letting people in and watching all I've worked for fade away.

UPDATE: Well, graduation was a week ago yesterday, and I did not walk across the stage 100% independently. I used my crutches and, although not the orginal plan, I was so incredibly happy that I did so! It showed that I was able to take on this event on my own and show how far I have come, not using my walker.

Even though the plan changed, the title of this post and the premise of writing it remains the same. JUST BELIEVE. When I sat and talked with this friend he asked me a simple question. "Do you believe it can happen." For the first time in a very long time I answered "Yes" and look where it's gottwn me. I've been using my crutches completely 100% of the time to get around since April 23, 2010.

It doesn't matter what it is, just believe. It doesn't matter if no one else believes with you, just believe.

The Right Recipe?

2010-01-09T01:49:00.005-05:00

I can't sleep and at 2am, when I can't sleep, I blog. I don't really know what's on my mind right now or, actually, what's not on my mind right now. It seems like lately I can't pause long enough to even keep track.

I had a Crossroads appointment on Thursday and I definitely needed it. My PT was Matt, who I love, but who hasn't treated me since Camp in August (before I was even an official client), so I was a little nervous. I've been having different PTs lately because I needed an longer appointment after the car accident which put me on someone else's schedule. It was a really interesting session. Like most sessions, I'm not really sure what he was working on. I think something to do with my hips and spine alignment. That must be it because both of those areas are still sore. After he got done working there though, we were just talking as he was doing some other things and Matt asked me if I've noticed any differences since I've started coming for treatment on a regular basis. I told him of course I did, but that I couldn't really explain how just that I knew I felt better--my body felt better. Matt said he had to ask because he noticed some big differences since the last time he treated me. First off, he told me that my body was much more relaxed, and had an easier time relaxing, than it originally did. He also said that there was much less muscle tone throughout my body. This is actually a good thing and very good for someone with my form of Cerebral Palsy. High muscle tone is what makes it most difficult for your body to carry out the messages it actually receives from your brain because it is too tense or being hyper vigilant in a way. For there to be less muscle tone means that there's improvements happening in my Central Nervous System, which will help to improve the more noticeable physical changes you might expect. I don't know if that made any sense, it's 2am, but I hope it did! Lastly, he told me that he remembers having to help me lift my legs up to lay down on the treatment table in August. Something that I do on my own without even thinking about it now.

I wasn't expecting to hear any of these improvements, but I'm elated that I did! I needed to hear them. The last thing Matt said to me was, "I'm not sure what you've been doing, but keep doing it, because you seem to have found the right recipe." That's the funny part. I have no idea what I've been doing. On the physical side, it hasn't seemed like I've been doing much of anything, except for the past week or so I've gotten back to stretching nightly and trying to walk without holding on to something a little everyday. Maybe that's what he means. I'm not sure. That is definitely something I'm proud of though because I feel like it is the strongest act of commitment I've displayed in a few months and even in the week that I've been doing it, it hasn't felt like I chore and I haven't pressured myself by keeping track of each move I make. I've just made the attempt each day and, quite honestly, enjoyed the challenge and accomplishment.

My path over the past month or so has been quite unknown. I've gone from fully believing this dream was possible, to doubting everything about it, even the ground I'm standing on. I've had trust strengthened and trust shattered all within the same day--both of myself and some around me. That's why hearing of those improvements came at such an important time. I guess it just has to do with the fact that we spend every moment of every day in this skin with ourselves, so it's difficult to see the changes that could be occurring. I'm just glad to know they are. And proud of myself too even!

I think that's all I have for tonight, even though there is plenty more floating around in my head. Hopefully that was enough to send me to sleep.

New Year, New You?

2010-01-04T20:32:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year! Here we go again with the ramblings of Molly.
This year was the first New Year's Eve that I've spent away from my family, away from the busy and over crowded restaurant my parent's own, and away from, well, anything familiar and comfortable. Instead, I stood still in a sea of people at Disney's Hollywood Studios with two of my best friends and a drink in hand. And as I stood there watching the most spectacular fireworks display I've ever seen, I was at peace. I stood and reflected on 2009 as I always do, but for the first time in many years I wasn't fast forwarding and planning out the future of 2010. As I dialed back in to everything around me and listened to the DJ music in the background, it was not Auld Lange Syne that was playing (which is fabulous because I've never really liked that song). First the DJ played Let It Be by The Beatles, then Dream On by Aerosmith. Yes, this was ridiculously ironic, but I just laughed to myself and enjoyed the first new moments of 2010 unfolding before me.
Ever since I was little, I've been the girl with the big dreams, and New Year's Resolutions were no exception. Well all my friends thought cleaning their room every week was a good choice, I chose things like staying on top on my exercise program that I've had to deal with all my life. I didn't believe in small goals, or small dreams for that matter. Life didn't stop just because the calendar year changed over. Even knowing this I continued to make lengthy resolutions (last year's four being two pages long) and continued to not follow through on them. I would get extremely annoyed with myself looking at this as quitting or becoming lazy because I didn't want to do the work. While that was sometimes, unfortunately, the case, this New Year's Eve taught me something more.
I wasn't quitting or becoming lazy, but I was doing something with no purpose, no reason, no drive. Life doesn't stop just because the calendar year has changed over. It never will. So what I learned this year was this: everything you want to do, you should want to do year round. If you don't, change it. Getting stuck in a pattern of dread it pointless. I learned that I need to let things be and continue to dream regardless of what I may encounter in trying to achieve those dreams. And lastly, I've learned that it's not New Year, New You. It's about being who you are and matching that up with who you want to be. You don't have to change everything, or anything for that matter, for that to happen.
So, what's my New Year's Resolution this year? Well, I don't believe in them anymore. I believe you should always have goals and coming up with them on January 1st makes them no more special. I believe in giving yourself second, third, and fourth--an infinite number of chances--so that is what I entend to do.
This year and everyday for the rest of my life, it is my goal to just be. It is my goal to live life and do all that I can, without fear.
You should try it! :)

A winter of...running?

2009-12-06T11:25:00.005-05:00

I started this blog post a month ago in an effort to inform all of you loyal readers about my newest endeavor to run another 5K in April and talk about how I was going to train for it using a training plan that any "normal" runner would use. Well, the title of the post is still accurate, but my topic has changed. Don't misunderstand me, I'm still going to be running the 5K, it's just not what I feel the need to share right now.

What's on my mind is running of a different sort. Running from my fears, running from change, and running from the one thing I so desperately want. That's what I've been doing for the past few months. And it took a car accident, some extremely tough love, and a lot of tears for me to figure this out. I've always been a dreamer. I strongly believe that we are nothing without our dreams and our dreams, hopes, and aspirations are ultimately what make us who we are. So, you'd think for someone who believes this, I'd have no problem following my own dreams, right? Wrong. I'm the one that everyone loves to share their goals will. I'll believe in you unconditionally. It's in transferring that belief onto myself that the problem starts to develop.

I love adventures. I love that adreniline rush of doing something that you never thought you could--that everyone told you you couldn't do. Lately though, I've been running. I've been running in the wrong direction, listening to the voices of those who tell me I should just live this life like it is, and I've been trapped by my fears. I pretend like I'm moving through them and going after my dream, but I'm actually just going through the motions.

Fear is such a strange emotion. It can motivate you or it can paralyze you. It may not seem that you can control the outcome, but I'm starting to learn that you can. You have the choice to let that fear become real, or to take that adventure and be willing to fall...and hope you succeed. As I'm sitting here writing this, I'm realizing how ambiguous I am when I write sometimes. So, for once, I think I'm going to put it all out there and be honest.

That one thing I so desperately want: to walk
My fears (maybe in a particular order, I don't know though): falling, failing, proving everyone right if I do fail, wasting my time, it not being enough--it never being enough...just to name the few that are almost always on my mind.

I feel like I'm just rambling. I promise I do have a point. It just might not tie into a neat little package like you'd want it to. Life never works that way. The other night, I was having a particularly rough time with this whole fear thing. I've recently been blessed with some great opportunities and some that I thought would be great and "the answer", that ended up getting cut too soon--or so I thought. Here I was, thinking that I needed someone to tell me exactly what to do and when to do it if I wanted to succeed. Since I didn't have that person, I didn't think it could happen. This has been a pattern of mine for years. Luckily, I have someone in my life who can spin me back to reality every now and then and tell me to suck it up, face my fears, and do what needs to be done.

I was--and still am--afraid to be alone, afraid to be out there with myself and trusting myself to succeed. But, this isn't for anyone else, but me. I'm starting to see that the people around me care; but their worlds aren't going to crumble if I don't succeed. They have their own goals and fears to deal with. This has to be for me; first and foremost, and when I succeed and am happy...THEN everyone else that I want so badly to include will be there...they can't hold my hand all the time, because then I'm not walking alone. Literally and figuratively.

Where does this fit into running? Well, I told you we'd get there. This winter in still the winter of running for me. While I'm literally running to try and take on this 5K on April 25, 2010 with a time less than my first of 2:11:31, I'm also running away from these fears that have trapped me for far too long and toward my dreams. Each day of training, each step whether giant ot extremely small, will, without a doubt, bring me closer...because now I know, more than ever before, that I am giving my all--for me. On that day in April, my ultimate goal of walking by myself across our graduation stage will be liss than one month away; and while there is a lot of time and hard work to be put in between now and then, there is one thing I know for sure. Because I'm willing to let myself fall, and do this for me, my committment to this goal has never been stronger, and will not falter.

Life..Part One

2009-11-15T23:26:00.004-05:00

It's been so long since I've really posted. Sorry to my few loyal readers. College life has a way of getting in the way of the things I really want to do. All. The. Time. Honestly, I have so many things that I would love to, and really need to, share with you all. My last "real" blog post was in July and to say that a lot has gone on since then would pretty much be the understatement of the century. Currently I'm listening to Til I Collapse by Eminem (thanks Carlee!!-a song that I HATE to love!)and that's a pretty good description of life since August.
For those of you who follow me either on Twitter or in real life, you'll know that I spent a week in August volunteering at a camp called Camp Care which is run by a physical therapy center in CT. Crossroads (the PT place) isn't like most clinics you would think of. The therapy they do there is both functional and structural. They use manual therapy. Actually, just read the website. I can't do it justice. http://www.crossroadsphysicaltherapy.org
This was my second time volunteering, but my first experience with the week-long summer camp. The camp is for kids with various physical and mental impairments where they receive free physical therapy treatments for a week and have the opportunity to take part in a lot of activities that they may not normally get a chance to like swimming, running/playing outside, interacting with other children with impairments, etc. This is what I spent my week doing and it wad hands down the most amazing week of my life. Interacting with these kids and their families never ceased to put a smile on my face and remind me how much love can go such a long way in life. I'd be a liar if I said this week was made amazing just because of these kids though. While at camp, I had the opportunity to be treated one day. This was only my second time getting treated as well. I immediately felt differences in my body and knew, though I had been resisting it for a long time, that I needed to give this a try for myself. I also was on the receiving end of some of those fun activities I'd never gotten to do. During the week, I played soccer, my first game of kickball ever!, a fitness challenge that could have easily put be in my grave, and I got to go in the lake and be free in the water. Those of you who know me well enough know that water is one of my biggest fears, but also one of the places I would love to be all the time because I am free when I'm in it. Throughout these 4 days, there was one person..well 2 if you count God, but He's always beside me..that was there for it all. These experiences caused me to learn how to trust again, something I haven't done in 5 years--almost to the day. You see, I met this person at my first camp last December and we've been friends ever since. I don't know how I lived my life without him to help me through most of it. (He may or may not be reading this, but if he is...Oh well. He deserves to know how awesome he is. HI DAN! :)) The things I did at Camp Care he won't take credit for, but I know I couldn't have done them had it not been for his ability to be there for me, to let me know I could do it (and challenge me when I said I couldn't) and my ability--however fearful it was--to put my trust in him.
Because of that trust and that friendship, on the last day of camp, as we were walking up the beach, I was able to let go of his arm and take steps on my own. For the first time in 5 years. Coincidence that 5 years ago was the last time I truly trusted? No? I didn't think so.
Trust is funny. It's a five letter word. It's very simple. Yet, it can forever change your life. In the past 4 months, trust has been at the absolute center of my life. Another blog post tomorrow will catch you up on the rest of my adventures, but this was the start of it all, so I feel as though it deserved something all its own...

The fight of your life.

2009-10-10T01:08:00.003-04:00

So, I needed a one credit class to fulfill some requirements this semester and decided to take a 5.5 week Advanced Editing and Revising course. I've always loved to write, but never really knew what to do with my writing. I figured this class would be a fun distraction from the rigors of all my other courses and give me time to do something that I love, but never get a chance to do. We had one assignment over the five weeks. We wrote one paper based on a metaphor and use of conceptual blending--basically trying to convince people that the metaphor is best through the use of language. I don't necessarily know why I feel the need to post this to the blog, but I'm extremely proud of it, and it's been so long since I actually sat down to blog (even if I only have one loyal reader! :))I'll appologize now for the length, but I couldn't figure out how to post the actual document, so if anyone knows how to do this, feel free to let me know. Happy reading!:) Hope you all enjoy it!

This has been years in the making. She’s waited for it for longer than most people even care to think about. Everything around her has become quiet and the only thing that she can feel is the beat of her own heart and the movement of her legs beneath her as they start to journey into the unknown ahead. She is shaking, but it is the good kind of shaking, if there is such a thing. As she lets go of all her inhibitions, everything starts to come together. Her goal is going to be accomplished and she’s finally going to get her gift that everyone has been telling her about. She steadies herself and takes one jagged, off-balance step forward with her left leg. The right follows directly behind. Okay, sure, people complete this task every day, hundreds of times a day. You see however, this young girl has Cerebral Palsy, a neurological disorder in which messages from her brain often do not get sent to other parts of her body correctly. These small movements are huge to her. They are nothing short of life-changing and incredible. She exhales and begins to realize what just took place. Every joyous emotion seizes hold of her body and she can’t help but let out her excitement. “It’s finally over. I’ve finally won this battle. I’ve finally done it. My gift is here!” She’s taken steps by herself. This moment is one that almost everyone told her would never happen. It seems like nothing could compare to the mentally and spiritually grounding gift this accomplishment has provided her with. As those words leave her lips, she takes the box that is presented to her, a physical token of her accomplishment given to her by her physical therapist. She removes the lid and starts to search through the box for this gift that he has been telling her about for so long. The environment around her begins to shift. The box is empty, but she keeps going farther and farther to the bottom, determined to see what it could be. As quickly as it began, it’s slipping away. “I don’t understand”, she yells. “Where is this amazing gift you’ve been telling me about for five years?” There is no answer coming from her physical therapist. In fact, there is no one around to even answer her. She looks around and the only person she’s left with is herself. She’s standing in her walker yet again. Staring down into the box, searching one last time for an answer, she can’t even see the bottom. All of the sudden, the truth hits her, a swift left hook to the jaw. She has been fed the wrong information all these years. This isn’t a true gift she’s received at all. This is a boxing match. She thought she’d reached the end, but that was only the first round and no one really knows just how long this match will last. She doesn’t even know how she got here.
A girl sits in the locker room, a patient waiting to be called into the doctor’s office. She has never felt more alone in her head, even with all the people circling around her, there for the same reason. They’re all going to be a part of this fight in some way or another. She tries to focus on the video tape playing a few feet away from her, the packets of information being handed over to her parents from the orthopedic doctor, the man who will be coaching her through this fight for the rest of her life. Over and over again she watches her opponent on the screen trying, unsuccessfully, to make sense of the brain scans that are up against the wall and have mapped out the list of fights she will compete in for the rest of her life, trying to plan how she can stand up to the challenge that is about to be placed in front of her. The statistics are being fed to her by the coaches around her. “Many people are faced with this fight,” they say, “and many, if not all will win, but not without a lot of hard work, sacrifice, and mental and physical agony.”
Close your eyes. Just take a moment and imagine a famous fight. Any fight is fine, but for me it’s Frazier vs. Ali, their first fight. It’s the fifteenth round and both men are clearly looking beaten down. There are about two minutes left in the fight and Frazier knocks Ali to the ground—the first time for the entire fight. Ali looks physically and mentally shaken. He is staggering back and forth as if he is combating some sort of seasick feeling. He is sweating enough to fill up his water bottles and seems to be arguing to himself, trying to shake off all the pain he is in. He is thrown fiercely back into the reality that he may not be the stronger man in this fight after all. That is what it is like for this prized fighter as she replays the statistics over in her head. It is in that moment of heading back to reality that she begins to see the differences. Her world moves a little slower, a bit more off balance. With that realization, the boxer slowly enters the ring. She now is accepting the fact that this fight may not be a fair one, but there is no way that she can just give up and let the referee count her out. She is shrinking under the weight of her losses; clearly the underdog, but ready for one last round…or so it seems.
There is constant sparring going on in her mind. “Do I give up or keep fighting?” “They all said I would never amount to anything.” “My brain is telling me I’m not strong enough to handle these punches, but my heart says I’m ready for anything. Which do I choose?” She finds herself constantly in motion, the boxer’s shuffle, moving back and forth between the past and the present with each punch thrown at her, each unsteady head feint her body must make to get away from her past as quickly as possible. As she struggles into the ring, she remembers the fight she’s faced each day of her life; a different battle, but one just as demanding. The microphone drops from the ceiling, and the ring announcer’s words shake the girl and the crowd, those that are always on the sideline of her life, wanting to lend a steadying hand when she is falling down, but just the slightest bit out of reach. They see the signs scrawled all over the face of the boxer, but they do not want to believe them. The familiar sound of her doctor’s voice comes over the room as they all hear “In the far corner, wearing blue, we have Cracking Perfection. Weighing in at 6 feet tall, 1 ton, it has a near perfect record with only one loss.” This may seem like it is a quite large size for the average fighter, but that is because CP looks average. These statistics, its monstrous size, are hidden and no one would know had they not been read out loud. Another hidden problem of CP is that even that one loss wasn’t really a full loss, because it was still constantly with the other fighter, so it was marked a no contest. This other fighter showed signs of being taken down by Cracking Perfection, but ended up being transported into another boxing ring and facing a different diagnosis. The highlight reel rolls across the Jumbotron, the patient being observed by her team of doctors as she walks down the hall, for the crowd, and the announcer’s voice comes back. “Now get ready for a clean, but hard fight.” The tale of the tape has been spoken for everyone in the arena to hear. The opponent, previously masked by shadows, finally emerges and becomes clear. He is rough and rugged. He doesn’t look quite as large as she imagined, but she’s heard the stories. She knows that all it takes is a look into his smoky grey eyes and all the fight will be unleashed within him.
Getting ready to face the fight, she wants to feel strong and assured. In her mind she does. In that place deep down inside of her, she believes she just may have a chance. However, in her body, a completely different story is being told. She steps into her walker, a boxer leaning against the ropes for one last encouragement and sense of stability. Most of the time, she lives her life with careful and detailed planning, making sure that she knows at least two steps ahead of where her life is headed, but sometimes she enjoys going on instinct. She enjoys the challenge of putting her heart and soul out there, as she is doing in the ring, and seeing what will come next. This is what happens next. She throws a left jab, the impulsive thought of how great her life would be if she could be rid of Cerebral Palsy, if only for one day. But she must accept the consequences of her actions, not anticipating her opponent’s next move well enough before executing. With that, her disability—the Frazier to her Ali—her opponent quickly and effortlessly counters, knocking her to the ground.
This fight has always been different for her. There was no training involved in this fight. She did not choose her opponent or to fight at all. She was simply thrown in the ring, guard down, hoping for the best. It must be made clear that, even though there are times when she may seclude herself or feel as though she’s alone, she has never truly been alone in this fight. She’s been going to physical therapy since she was a year old, the conditioning to try and maintain her abilities, but not formal training. Her physical therapists, the corner men giving her tips and pushing her every step of the way, were the only people she felt most trusting of, and even that was never one hundred percent.
Her parents, the more reserved of the spectators, the fans watching her fight on television from the comfort of their own couches, had chosen to step back for her own protection. She knew they were there, but didn’t always need to be in the forefront to feel supported. They knew how easily she would anger if she knew they were getting excited over every punch thrown. For this reason they’d find themselves only cheering when they knew she couldn’t really hear, careful not to break her concentration or push her too much into her harsh reality that every punch she threw was really that big of a victory. She didn’t want to think about how truly tough this was. She just wanted to fight and win.
The obnoxiously loud roar of the crowd draws her out of her internal reflection and back into the moment. In each scream, boast, and encouraging word, she can hear the distinct voices of each one of her friends—her ringside supporters. Some are the ones that have been there for every punch, kick, laugh, cry; and others have been the referees in the ring, literally picking her up many times after getting knocked down. This has happened more times than she can count. There were times on the playground when she thought she would try the jungle gym just like the rest of her peers. Then there were the more figurative times like in fourth grade when she found out she had to have another hip derotation surgery because the first one was ineffective. They’ve been there for her to wipe her gloves off on and take a standing eight count to get settled. It is through each of these spectators, whether on television or in person, that she finds it in herself to continue to come back and face this fight again and again. You see, there is a catch here. This may be the final round in her match, but she relives that final round day in and day out. Each new day is a new final round, and it doesn’t look like the final bell will ring anytime soon.
Many of my own experiences are intertwined within this fighter’s story. In fact, I am the fighter. For me, the true pain displayed in the ring is real. It is rough and raw. There are many more times of pain and anguish than there are of joy and excitement, but the sacrifice and conditioning and tears you put into those painful times make the rewards of accomplishing the goal that much sweeter whether it is simply making it through the day, or taking your first steps at twenty-one years old. For some people though, this metaphor is a little bit too honest. It’s a little bit too much of a test for the fairytale world people want to live in. Individuals living in this world, tend to live by the misguided belief “Living life with a disability is a gift.” This misconception comes from a more societal perspective of looking at a disability than an individual perspective. The disabled community often hears that you can use having a disability to show your true strength and personality in overcoming adversity, which might be a very convincing point if it weren’t for one glaring fallacy—this statement is often said by people who do not, themselves, have a disability. Many of these people may not even know someone who has a disability at all. This phrase, many times, can be traced back and based on faith. For example, certain Christian denominations such as Catholicism often look at challenges like disabilities as a grace from God that is given to show others how their God loves all people and creates everyone in these unique and amazing ways because they all have something special to offer the world around them (Zach, 2009). Many articles and disability blogs have had posts that cited their reasons for feeling this way were that it was important to stay in touch with their limitations so as not to act too high and mighty and that they were better than other people.
Also, many who have faith of some type believe that is it extremely important to be strong and determined in going out and putting everything you have into something you believe fully in, as well as yourself. Though sometimes I may doubt that view, I also count myself as one of those individuals. I live by the idea that nothing matters more than that one piece of your life you can’t see yourself living without and you must do everything in your power to always make sure it is within your grasp, even if you end up bruised, beaten, and battered in the process. These people know that, within a weakness lies an even more powerful strength. Again, one of the stronger places that this was shown through others was through the repeated posting of one Bible passage. It comes from 2 Corinthians 12: 9 and goes as follows: “But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (New International Version, 2002). For some people, this is enough of an explanation—to know that in their weakness, God will be there for them and make them strong.
I will pose the question to you, though it is not one that, under normal circumstances, you would normally have a choice to answer. Which of these metaphoric representations would you choose to believe and regard as truth? Which of these explanations has more to offer? Just think about which sounds more interesting on the surface, a disability as a gift or a disability as a boxing match? Sure gifts are great. They are shiny and mysterious and are fun to unwrap but, they are also safe. After you open a gift, what do you do? You put it on or play with it a few times and then it sits in the bottom of your closet for years. Boxing matches, on the other hand, are full of possibilities. There is constant action, unpredictability, and a sense of adventure and rush of adrenaline whether you are a participant or a spectator. I’ll pose the question again. Which of these explanations has more to offer? Where can you see yourself? The boxing match? I had a hunch that’d be your answer which leaves us to deduce that the metaphor “Living life with a disability is like the final round in a boxing match” fits much more accurately. A disability like Cerebral Palsy that this fighter was given is not a Christmas or birthday gift from your great aunt Helen that can be returned or traded in if it is ugly or doesn’t fit you right. It stays with you through every knockout fight, dizzying punch, and agonizing defeat. Cerebral Palsy is not something that you can hide away in the closet until it has a purpose. In fact, there is no hiding it at all. It cannot be masked by big muscles or the fighter’s robe. It is one disability in the bunch that is almost always going to be visible to the eye of any passerby. The patient’s walker, wheelchair, or cane giving away the deficit, a Band-Aid covering Holyfield’s gnawed off ear. And let’s not all forget that generally, as children, we ask for gifts that we want to receive. We carefully choose from the catalogs and construct our ideal lists to give our parents. I’m pretty sure I have never seen a one-year-old child say to her mother, “I’d like to have Cerebral Palsy for my birthday. Pretty please Mom.” If we, as a disabled community, really wanted to face these challenges every day, all we would do is strip ourselves of all assistive devices or aids we need and see just how far we could make it and how long our strength would hold us.
Here we are again, watching the boxer in the ring face her seasoned, rugged, and unforgiving opponent—Cerebral Palsy. It all seems like the perfect scene out of a Rocky film, until you start thinking about the logistics of the fight unfolding before your eyes. Boxers are trained and competitive athletes who spend hours upon hours in the gym working for a something they chose to be a part of. While this boxer may be a diligent physical therapy patient when she trains now, she did not voluntarily enter into this training. She did not know it was going to literally take the wind out of her many times. She had this training thrust upon her in the form of weekly stretching and bodily manipulation. Every week, twice a week, for one hour a day, she would be poked and prodded by her coaches, all in the name of making her “better”. They would take measurements of her abilities and tell her areas in which she was lacking. Then, as if they would always be right beside her forever, they would give her the ever so reassuring, “Don’t worry, it can only get better from here. We’ll make it work.” And send her out the door to face everything again. This would be intimidating to anyone, let alone a young girl.
A startling noise erupts from the crowd and she is drawn out of logical thinking and back into the ring. She is forced back into this fight, both physically and mentally, that does not seem to be letting up. Cerebral Palsy presents the awkward dilemma of our legs not working in conjunction with our brain on a minute-by-minute basis. In the literal sense, type of physical confusion presents itself almost exactly the same in the boxing ring and that is why the crowd is on their feet right now. The boxer just took a punch directly to the chin. Scientifically speaking, her brain has been recoiled against the back of her skull then immediately against the front. This causes a double reaction of neurons firing and failing to receive the proper message due to overload (Rose, 2008). She staggers backwards trying to shake it off, but is unsuccessful and finds herself spiraling down onto the floor of the ring. Our fighter has “lost her legs”. That is, her brain cannot get the messages across to have strength in her legs to stand up, causing her to fall immediately to the ground and lose her focus physically and mentally. Cerebral Palsy has just gained momentum over the boxer in one of the harshest ways possible. With that staggering determination that she must always display, she drags herself to her feet, using the ropes, her main assistive device, the walker, for her strength and support along the way.
The fight continues to unfold, the boxer getting beaten down with every punch, and all the spectators are watching in some sort of awe. You can see the confusion on their faces. One friend shouts, “Wait a minute. What about the three knockdown rule?” That’s just it. There is no three knockdown rule in the fight with Cerebral Palsy. No matter how many times she gets knocked down, she must always get back up. She is not like any other boxer, and this is not like any other fight. She cannot choose to give in and surrender. She cannot just walk away from the fight and hope for better luck next time. This thought angers our fighter more than you could even imagine. “How could I be so easily defeated?” she asks herself. “That is not the type of person I am. That is not the type of person I ever want to be.” This anger and determination unleashes a drive within her that she has experienced in only one other setting—her physical therapy clinic. Almost instinctively, she throws repeated one-two punches directly at the sides of Cracked Perfection’s rugged face. Unexpectedly, he is shaken by this sudden change of defense tactics and can’t withstand the pressure. He falls to the ground and, before she can realize what just happened, the referee counts to ten and raises her hand in the air declaring her the winner of this fight. The fighter does not believe it. She’s beaten the odds and won the fight against one of the toughest opponents out there. The crowd around her lets out a loud roar of approval. The smile on her face is not unlike the ones you see on the faces of just married couples or new parents. The smile stretches as wide as possible.
The fighter leaves the ring and walks down the narrow hallway toward the locker room, her reentry into a world where there aren’t quite as many barriers, a “normal” world for most others. She is surrounded by flocks of people from the spectators of her family and friend, to reporters who become the doubters, to hear doctors and physical therapists who have coached her along the way. She finally reaches the door to her locker room. All she can think about is the ice bath waiting for her and the trainer who will be waiting to dress her wounds. As she opens the door, she knows something is not right. This can’t be happening. As the door opens fully she sees that this is not her locker room. Instead, she faces another arena no different than the one she just left. She takes a step through the door and it all becomes clear. She must fight again. Though the victory has given her an amazing emotional high, it doesn’t much matter that she won the fight today. No matter the outcome, she will face the same fight tomorrow and every day for the rest of her life.
Up until this point, or maybe a few pages back, this entire story board playing out on the page; the boxing match before you, may not have seemed like all that big of a deal. It’s just another sob story. It’s somewhere between the story of another Rocky Balboa trying to overcome insurmountable odds and getting caught in the shuffle and the dramatic story with the predictable happy ending through hard work and determination. However, it’s not just that. It is much more than for the girl whose fingers are grazing the keyboard; opening her heart a little more with each word on the page. For her, it is putting truth to the thoughts, feelings, and actions that she must hide all too often because they don’t quite fit with the way everyone would like to envision her life and the way she chooses to live it. For her, it’s a plea to society to try and become even the slightest bit more aware and empathetic to the struggles and obstacles that the disabled community must face every day of their lives, with no choice but to keep fighting. That is why this boxing match is so important to her. She hopes beyond all hope that it will not only move her along on her journey through life, but also help move someone else along that might be stuck in a boxing match of their own, whoever the opponent happens to be. It is the cancer patient sparring with one last round of chemotherapy treatment. It is the young man diagnosed with clinical depression constantly ducking from and fighting with his mood swings. Within these ropes surrounding the ring lies a unique and strong hope. It is a hope that, one day, the tale of the tape will tell the real truth and will, once and for all, be in her corner and in the corners of all those in her world.

Army Wives

2009-08-09T15:11:00.003-04:00

For anyone that may need this today. I stumbled upon this from the show Army Wives in some of my saved quotes...

"Letting go. That’s what this is mostly about. First thing you’ve got to learn to let go of is worrying about stuff you can’t control. What happened, happened. So take a deep breath, this is your new reality. Whatever anger and frustration and…you know, you gotta let go of that too. There’s no reverse button on our lives. If there was, I would go back, I would do it different, but I can’t. That isn’t gonna be easy, cause your brain, it’s just gonna keep trying to steer you off course you know? Like some stubborn horse that don’t wanna stay on the trail? But the really important things, those get clearer in your head, I mean it. Whatever junk you thought you needed to make your life worthwhile, it goes away. Life gets a lot more basic. And a lot richer. It’s scary; I won’t tell you it isn’t. I mean, small changes can be scary and this ain’t small. It’s like you started out as one person and a thing like this—it changes you and this whole new person starts to form. But until you let go, you’ll never realize your full potential. So that’s it—all of us here in this room, we were given a special challenge. And what I have to keep believing is that special challenges allow for something special to float to the surface. Something that I may never have known about myself if this hadn’t of happened. So, it’s all about letting go of what could have been and only holding onto the things that really matter. Thanks for coming."

Walker

2009-07-19T00:14:00.005-04:00

About 3 weeks ago I finally ordered a new walker. I'd had my old one for almost 10 years, but had to get rid of it when one of the back wheels got sliced by a rock and the other literally stopped turning. (Another reference to the blog title...)It was getting really squeaky and annoying and I just wanted to be rid of it, but when the new one arrived I couldn't help but feel almost a little bit nostalgic, as ridiculous as that may sound. I just started thinking about all the "memories" i had with this walker and I'll the things I've gone through with it. Okay, so I've had walkers since I was two years old, you wouldn't think it would really matter that much when I got a new one, but this time it did. I'd recently named him Texas Ranger, get it? WALKER, Texas Ranger. And this was a tough goodbye.
My old walker has been a part of my life since around about 8th grade. Big changing years for any kid. The decisions of where to go to high school, countless friend trials and tribulations, unbelievably disgusting crushes on boys who would grow up to be...well, they'd never grow up. This walker was with me as I went to public high school with all my close friends, while my best friend made the decision to go to private high school, our first time apart since we were born. It was there as I found my way through my teenage years, both gaining and losing along the way. It was there to hold me up, literally and figuratively, as I lost both of my grandmothers. It was there crossing the graduation stage with me and as I stepped into a whole new world of college life and it has been there through three amazing, and at times crazy heartbreaking, college years.
For me, looking back, there was only one decision and moment in life that is most difficult to realize this walker was there for, and that all decision completely centered around my walker itself. Toward the end of my 8th grade year, I started realizing that this walker was a real pain in the ass. It was heavy, and metal, and even though at times it was a great buffer, the fact that I couldn't get closer than a foot to something at any given time made thing difficult. I decided that I didn't want the walker anymore, that I was going to teach myself (with the help of PT, of course) not to need it. At first I thought it was going to be easy, I mean babies do it at like a year old, so how hard could it be right? As time when on though, I knew there was no way I could handle this on my own padding my bedroom floor incase I fell.
Funny the bit of a memory that stick with you. I remember the first person, or people actually that I told, were my family friends Jenny & Erin. (I've always refered to them as my cousins, but really, we're friends. And good ones! :)) I remember running into them at the mall and telling Jenny that I had a talk to her about something and I'd call her when I got home. I remember sitting in my living room, the farthest room from where my parents were, and telling her how badly I wanted to do this. I didn't care what it would take. And I remember her telling me that she believed I could. She was the first person to tell me that. For years, and I really mean years, they were the only two people that knew. In fact, up until last year. The walker was there for that moment; that life-changing moment that has shaped the past eight or nine years of my life.
This walker has been there as a tried, quit, tried again, had people tell me I was attempting the impossible, and changed Physical Therapist many times. Most importantly, it was there when that moment finally arrived on July 21 2005, almost 4 years ago to the day. I took at least 10 steps on my own that day and I thank God that I happened to have my camera with me that day, otherwise I wouldn't have believed it.
I have not taken steps by myself since that day, for reasons I don't fully understand, but that walker was there as I've continued to try over the past 4 years--never willing to give up. So, as I sat in my kitchen staring at the old walker ready to be recycled, and the new one ready to embark on another journey through the years, it was tough. I felt like I was letting go of the part of my life I've been trying to get rid of for so long, only to see a new bright shiny replacement. But most of all I felt like I was letting go of the last remaining physical reminder of that amazing day that replays in my head everytime I drift off to sleep. I can only hope that this new walker can hold up through just as much and provide me with another opportunity to feel as though I don't need it.

Always Looking Up

2009-07-10T21:16:00.002-04:00

I just (quite literally) finished Michael J. Fox's new book, Always Looking Up: Adventures of an Incurable Optimist. I wasn't really sure what to expect but, given my life situation, I'm always drawn to books about people and thier stories of hope, survival, and overcoming adversity. I found his story particularly intersting because of both the way he described the intricacies of a life with Parkinson's and the research he backs, but also the frankness and simplicity with which he spoke of his personal life. While I was reading, there were some statements that Fox made about his daily life that particularly struck a chord in me. Even though I do not have a dabiliating disease like Parkinson's, in fact I could never imagine how difficult that must be, there are struggles along the way. Some of these quotes made me feel at peace. They made me realize that, though you may feel like you are the only person in the world facing these trials, you're only alone if you allow yourself to be. Whether you can relate to this situation through yourself, a friend or family member, or you don't think you can at all...I hope you can find something to hold onto in these words.

"For everything this disease has taken, something with greater value has been given--sometimes just a marker that points me in a new direction that I might not otherwise have traveled." Pg. 6

"Sometimes, when you're alone, minutes pass before you even realize you're crying." Pg. 45

"One way to appreciate the difference between what happened to Chris [Reeve] and what was uncoiling in my life would be to analogize the sudden impact of a locomotive with the incremental awareness of being tied to the tracks , and feeling the vibration from the approaching train, with no way to gauge its proximity." -Pg. 86

"Before a catastrophe, we can't imagine coping with the burdens that might confront us in a dire moment. Then when that moment arrives, we suddenly find that we have resources inside us that we knew nothing about." Pg. 86, Christopher Reeve

"You suffer the blow, but you capitalize on the opportunity left open in its wake." Pg. 151

"No single one of us knoes which pebbles causes the wave to crest, but each of us, quite rightly, believes that it might be ours; an act of faith." Pg. 153

"The purpose you wish to find in life, like a cure you seek, is not going to fall from the sky...It requires the faith to take risks and a rejection of the bonds of fear." Pg. 178

"I didn't choose to have Parkinson's. I agree that if I took on the condition and everything that comes with it just to be an advocate on behalf of others so afflicted, well then yeah, that would be historically heroic. But in a way, I'm just rolling with the punches." Pg. 180

"I think one of the keys to my happiness is that I try to catch my mistakes and transgressions as quickly as possible after the fact and minimize the period of reflection" Pg. 199

"Each new moment gives you a sufficient load to carry, and I've learned, especially as my arms have grown shakier, that there are times when the wisest thing to do is to let go." Pg 233

"To say that my attitude toward the disease itself was far less evolved than it is today would be a gross understatement. I still didn't fully own it and was still wrestling with how wholly it owned me." Pg. 260

"...My doctors warned me of a common side effect: exaggerated, intensely vivid dreams. To be honest, I've never really noticed the difference. I've always dreamt big." Pg. 276

One Thought

2009-07-09T01:40:00.003-04:00

Because I can't seem to fall asleep yet...
Something is bothering me about this blog. I feel as though I started writing under a little bit of a false pretense. I do enjoy optimism. I think it's key in this crazy world. However, sometimes I tend to talk a big talk about how great everything should be/is, when there are times when I don't know up from down or left from right. So, basically, I'm just asking my readers (well, all 4 of you) to bear with me--because there are some days when being "Optimistic Oprah" as we call it in our lovely group of friends, just becomes a little too ridiculous and you want to allow yourself to have some "Negative Nancy" moments and admit things are rough. If only to keep you sane. No one can be 100%, 100% of the time, and you can't always be the strong one.
That's all for now. Night.

Change

2009-07-08T17:45:00.003-04:00

Lately, The Fray (both of thier albums) has been the soundtrack of my life. Summer is a little more than halfway over and I've definitely dubbed it the summer of change. I hate change. Well, hate may be a strong word...nope, it's not. After high school graduation, I could have been a millionaire if I had a dollar for everytime someone told me "Enjoy these years, because they'll fly by." I never believed them. Now, I'm staring down the barrel of my final year of undergrad, and I have no idea where the past 3 years went! I pretty much know (well, for now anyway) what I want to do with my life so, I know I'm not quite done with school yet, but still change is change. Families change, friends change, places change, plans change. And, I'm starting to realize, that I too must change.
Do you ever have that one person/place/thing in your life that you just can't let go of? Because that may actually mean you're accepting change? Yeah. That. It's a crazy and scary moment when you realize that you've finally reached the point where if you don't let go, you're just going to go backward.
I may hate change, but I'm starting to realize that without change, you're just selling yourself short.

Dreams

2009-07-05T09:33:00.001-04:00

I just got back from a weekend in Westport with the family and as I was laying on a beach way more beautiful than any Connecticut beach I've ever been to, this is what I was pondering.
I have this bookmark that my mom got me and on it, it says, "Believe in your dreams and anything is possible." We all know that those ideations we have and those things we aspire to, we call them dreams and talk about them as fantasies, but I got to thinking: what exactly ARE dreams? Don't get me wrong, I like a mystery of belief as much as the next person, but there are just so many possibilities here.
Let me precursor this whole topic by saying I'm a psychology major, so dreams and the mind are my "thing" through and through, but I'm also a Catholic who believes very strongly in my faith. It gets a bit dicey.
I know of two main explanations for what dreams really are. They come from the diciplines of science and faith; the two areas in which we all almost alway find ourselves spilt between.
In the world of science, dreams are easily explained. We all have an unconscious mind that we control, or at least keep at bay, when we are awake and alert. When we sleep and go into REM cycles, neurons starts firing like crazy and the unconscious becomes the context of our thoughts as we sleep, as we dream. Ramble, ramble, there's much more psychobabble, but that's most of it.
Now, in the world of faith and religion (or at least my own. I can't speak for anyone else's), the stuff of dreams is summed up in one sentence. They are messages from God that guide you through life. Be warned, just because this is a shorter explanation, doesn't mean it's any easier.
The question remains, where do I fall on this topic? How do I view dreams? The answer: I have no idea. I'm extremely torn in the world of dreams. I love them. I love the optimism of them, no matter which realm you view them from. I just don't know quite where I stand.
What I do know is this. If you don't have dreams, however you define them, it's a scary world...and an even scarier sleep. Obviously, we dream hundreds of times a night, but the mornings I wake up and can't remember any of them are some of my most annoying mornings. I view dreams as more pieces to fit in the puzzle of life. That includes the aspriations, hopes, and fantasties. They are the way to give me some answers that I just can't come across when I am awake and going about my day. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't have anything.
What do dreams mean to you? How do you define them?

Spinning

2009-07-03T02:06:00.000-04:00

The title of this blog is a reference to many different areas of my life. One of those, is my love of Spinning classes. I started spinning almost 2 years ago, at my gym & physical therapy clinic. It started out as just something to try to waste 20 minutes at the end of a PT session because my brain had checked out. I really had no desire to be conquered by yet another "able-bodied, normal person's" exercise class and would much rather have been sitting outside waiting for my ride home.
From the minute I got on the bike that night, I knew something was different. First of all, there was no balance needed--the bike was stationary, but upright like real bike. First point goes for me. Second, the pedals came equipped with these rubber foot covers called cages so that your foot would be strapped into the pedal and not slide off while you were riding. (This was always the biggest problem for me when I tried to ride a bike as a kid.) Second point to me. Within those few minutes, I fell in love. It wasn't until I got off the bike that I realized it had scored one point against me. I had huge cuts on both of my thighs/inner knee areas. Because of the tightness of some of my leg muscles and the circular motion of pedalling sometimes my legs would not be able to stay far enough from the bar the seat rested on and I ended up repeatedly scraping myself.
"Oh well" was honestly my first thought. Not oh well that I would just have to forget about my new found love because of my bodies limitations, but oh well that my body was just going to have to forget about its limitations because of my new found love. There was no way I was going to give this one up. Over several months I worked hard to build up my endurance in these classes, slowly adding on 5 minutes every week or so until I eventually completed a whole class 3 weeks later.
The best part about Spinning for me at the time was the environment. Our spin room, like most, is black lit. This allows riders to get in their own "zone" while they're riding. A true Godsend for me. For once I was not worried about other eyes being on me, as they had been so many times in my life, or keeping up with everyone else. It was just me, the bike, a stereo, and the long roads of whatever journey I was on stretching out before me.
Over the past 2 years, I have become an integral part of the Spinning community at the gym. I ride 3-4 classes per week most weeks and I have participated in, and helped organize annual Pedal for A Purpose 5 hour charity spinning rides. This past March I rode for 3 hours to benefit United Cerebral Palsy and I couldn't have asked for a better experience. Sure, I ended up with a stress fracture/tendinitis/a hip that now hurts whenever the weather changes, but I would do it all again if I could.
This is just something I wrote last year about what Spinning means to me, though some people still may never understand it fully:
Some say it’s just a bike.
It’s one class at one gym.
It’s something her peers conquer everyday—and have for years before her.
She sees something more.

It’s not about the number of calories burned.
It’s not about the ready-for-summer legs.
It’s not even about any aspect of exercise or fitness.
Sure, those are some really great outcomes but to this girl they’re simply added bonuses.
Because, she sees something more.

So, you ask—puzzled, if none of that is what’s important, what is the point?
The answer to this question is simple. However, some may never understand it.
It’s about that feeling deep inside her heart.
The feeling locked far away where it can’t be seen by any mere passerby.
It’s about the athlete.
Not the softball star that has a crowd of admirers following her around wherever she goes.
Not the flawless dancer whose graceful movements across a stage bring her viewers to tears.
This athlete will never get her fame on ESPN or the local news, or in a competition.
In fact, you won’t even notice her, because it’s not about that.
You see, she sees something more.

This athleticism and this emotion come from deep within.
So deep that, at times, she struggles find it.
Why did I think I could make it? Why did I think that I could be the same as those around me?
As the inner demon starts to control her, as she tries to find her strength, these questions surface.
But she fights. She pushes. And just when she is ready to give up, the feeling appears again.
She feels free. She feels strong. She feels alive.
As alive as a newborn baby breathing in her world for the very first time.
For just one hour, most times just once a week, she feels at peace.
It’s not just something to do for fun, or to make her feel included in this world.
In this room, she sees something more.

She does not see the Cerebral Palsy, the walker, or the unsteady gait
She sees a young woman broken down by the hands of time.
But a woman who is growing and putting herself back together with each pedal stroke.
She sees something more.

She does not see an ugly inner being, a shattered mirror broken from the weight of the pain just looking into it causes, or a tear stained pillow she lays her head on each night
She sees an equal.
An equal who is fighting along with the women beside her to make it through that extra sprint, that last climb.
She sees something more.

So no, it’s not just a bike, or a class, or a gym, or a group of strangers who ride together.
It’s her release, it’s her freedom, it’s all her dreams rolled into one, and it’s her friends. No, her family.
And because of all of it,
In herself, she sees something more.

For me, Spinning is my outlet. It's my time away from my daily struggles and the pain they sometimes cause even if I try not to think about that. It's a time to reflect and a time to really be proud of the accomplishments I've made--both on and off the bike. Most importantly though, it's a time to be the person I truly am on the inside. A time to let my inner Lance Armstrong shine through. I hope you all can, and will, go out and find that in your own lives if you haven't already. You deserve to.

Pardon The...Introduction

2009-07-03T00:06:00.000-04:00

So, almost exactly 7 months after making my New Year's Resolution to start a blog, I'm finally getting around to it. I'm not really sure what's going to come of it, or if I'll even have any readers, but it's worth a try. There's no real set topic, or point, to my blogging, I guess. Just wanting to get some random thoughts on the page and maybe entertain and inspire someone along the way...so prepare yourselves.
I suppose I should start out with an introduction of sorts. I'm Molly, I'm a senior in college, and I may or my not have a disability. That's up to you to decide as you read along in my future posts. Okay, yeah, I have Spastic Diplegic Cerebral Palsy, or CP. I was diagnosed when I was a year old, and haven't had a day off since. That's a lot of days, you can do the math if you really care. The reason I pose it to you as a question, if there is anyone even reading this, is because it would be almost impossible to realize if you didn't know me or see e walking past you down the street. At the risk of sounding confident, I am a very bright person. I get around almost entirely on my own, I take classes, live at school during the year...you get the point. I may have Cerebral Palsy, but I try my damnedest to let people see that the tarnished exterior doesn't hold a candle to the person I really am.
Oh, and that's another thing. I don't believe in the characteristic of cockiness. It's confidence. A person is not cocky, they are confident. They live their life as if they deserve everything they work for and as if they can do whatever they want to do in life. Happy reading...