CW: Mental health
Living with cerebral palsy means constantly navigating a world that was not built with me in mind. It is not just about overcoming physical obstacles. It is about facing the emotional ones that come from being misunderstood, underestimated, and often overlooked. One of the most challenging things I face is invisible to others: low self-esteem.
Low self-esteem did not appear overnight. It built up slowly, over years of society telling me I was less than. It started with the pitying looks and the awkward silences that followed when I entered a room, and the assumptions that I couldn’t do things for myself. It was the teacher who spoke to my paraprofessional instead of me. The friend who did not invite me because they assumed I could not participate. It was the strangers who talked to me like I was a toddler even when I grew up.
Those moments added up. At first, they whispered, then they screamed: You are not enough. You are not worthy. You are a burden.
After hearing those messages for so long, I started to internalize them. I internalized the ableism. I began to question my worth, my relationships, and my future. I tried to be agreeable, to take up as little space as possible. But no matter how hard I tried, I still felt invisible.
Even professionals like doctors, therapists, teachers, and social workers have contributed to my low self-esteem. Sometimes, they talk about my cerebral palsy as if it is a problem to be solved instead of a part of who I am. Other times they make decisions for me without asking what I think, as if I am not capable of speaking for myself.
I have felt invisible in rooms that were supposed to support me. When the focus is only on what I cannot do, it makes me feel like I am broken. And when my autonomy is ignored, it sends the message that my voice does not matter. These experiences stay with me. They make it harder to feel confident, and harder to believe that I deserve the same respect as anyone else.
I have felt invisible in rooms that were supposed to support me. My IEP (Individual Education Program) meetings in school were some of the most discouraging experiences. I often left those meetings feeling completely defeated. My IEPs always seemed to focus more on my weaknesses than my strengths. It was never a good feeling to be talked about while I sat there quietly. I wanted people to understand that I was more than an IEP goal or an intelligence test score.
Perhaps the most frustrating part of school was the constant emphasis on my socialization, or what the staff believed was a lack of it. They often assumed I did not socialize enough with my peers, without asking me what my social life actually looked like. When I was a sophomore in high school, I was asked to complete a social skills assessment with the speech-language pathologist.
One of the questions she asked me was, “Where are your favorite places to go in the community?” I told her that I enjoyed going to the movies, museums, and sporting events. I remember feeling like I had to prove that I was a “normal” teenager, that I had interests, and that I did go out and enjoy myself. It was exhausting to constantly feel like I had to justify my humanity.
Cerebral Palsy should not stop me from living my life to the fullest and participating in society. I want to be able to pay taxes, vote, travel, work, and live life like everyone else. At times though, it feels like this is too much to ask for. I worry that I will never be able to live my life to the fullest.