What happens when societal preconceived notions look at a young adult with CP?

These thoughts haunt me. Often objectified because of the label attached to the diagnosis, I never want to sound like I am preaching for gratitude.

Gratitude is innate within me because of the journey I am on for my own personal self-discovery, and chosen altruistic behavior.

Fortunately, I don’t spend every holiday season behind a privacy curtain. I don’t hear the constant beeping of alarms. Doctors spelling words that most families don’t even know what to do with. Pulled out of a comfortable environment because of their child, who can’t come home for the holidays.

I do get to spend Thanksgiving in my own bed at home, heated and weighted blankets in tow. Oral medication to relax and take the pain away from the change in the weather the cold, tightness in my muscles turn me from 24 to 104 years old on the inside. I have a full stomach and I am surrounded by family and friends.

These simple blessings aren’t the same for everyone. That was me, I went to Disney the week prior to Thanksgiving when I was four. The previous spring I would get my hamstrings heel chords and Achilles tendons released.

The small things I remember, walking in the parade with the chipmunks, watching my siblings on the tower of terror, on the Toy Story ride with the aliens from buzz lightyear. Parallel that with a rage worthy ear infection.

The bigger memories of hospital pizza, popsicles after disgusting pain medicine and losing my cool after my epidural came out of my back. Telling mom, “Get the Doctor” when the feeling in my legs came back.

Each year during the holiday season I reflect on the schism between these two moments in my life. How fortunate I am to have experienced both. How wonderful it is to have a perspective of both sides of the coin.