A Journey With Cerebral Palsy

The noise of life can cause distraction. Chaos entering the mind with calls to action. Getting lost in the world of peer pressure. Voiding the thoughts of our inner selves. Ignoring anything guiding us onto the path opposing social opinion. While social opinions arise from the people we have chosen. The friends chosen to spend our free time around. Often seen as reflections of the feelings we have about ourselves. These statements have been accurate for most of life. The people surrounding me, reflecting beliefs held. Beliefs borne from the perspectives of watching life happen. Full of actions constituting emotional abuse and bullying. Actions used to gain perceived advantage in a world full of anger. Upset was most commonly felt when engaging with other people. Frustration with myself accompanied by the lack of patience for them. The examples running ramped during the years of life. Someone promoting negative behavior might depart. Just as they left, another was there to fill their shoes. Like bullies were being sought to make sense of my world. Becoming a gravitational pull throughout time. As the journey went forward, there continued to be this small piece. The moments of solitude when chaos came to rest. Feelings of emotional security finding their way to the surface. The struggle in those moments was the unfamiliarity with such feelings. Knowing they would make me different from the life chosen.

The type of life being chosen for so long was that of anger. Steering most of my social interactions. Having cerebral palsy was planting itself as being negative. The obstacle keeping me from looking like others. Making the physical tasks performed with ease by others, more challenging. Some physical tasks complicated to the point of impossible execution. Even with the best made effort to get them accomplished. The facts of life continuously bringing on bouts of frustrated emotion. When the negative feelings weren’t finding relief, I began looking around. Looking for ways of easing the pain. People who might have similar perspectives. The feelings of frustration over something causing discomfort. For them, the complication in life could be anything. It seemed to be about sharing the feelings of having been wronged. Somewhere along the journey, something had brought about emotional aching. The situations, though different for most, contained a shared bond. Feelings of upset carrying with them the victim mentality. Victim mentalities have the ability to promote destructive behavior. Thinking nothing much matters in life. Helping become void of social responsibility. The old theme comes back around. Achieving places where we could act in whatever manner we chose. The ability to bully others became normal. after all, if life had injured us so deeply, there was a right to be angry. There was a place for me to fit, but following rules would be required.

Getting wrapped up inside a group of bullies doesn’t just happen. Falling into situations like these often require circumstances. Vulnerabilities seem required to become accepting of such forms of behavior. Once those vulnerabilities are planted, it appears an easy trap. At least in my case, insecurities added to the attraction. The constant feeling of insecurity gave the act of bullying its appeal. The feeling of being bullied felt well deserved. With cerebral palsy pulling on my ability to feel whole. Being talked down to made all kinds of sense in my mind. The soft points being repeatedly injured with words only elevating frustrations. Leading to my desire of inflicting the emotional pain onto others. Bearing out an insatiable want to become part of the group. Bulling other people was easing many aspects of the pain inside myself. Becoming such a release valve that the actions seemed to border on addiction. Pain and anger turning into the center of my universe. The resentment around having to battle my disability took me over. Now, I was worthy of a group of friends. Almost like a gang of bullies feeding on one another. We would put each other down along with hurting people who stumbles into our path. The bond between people so thick at points, there didn’t seem any direction out. No reason being presented to make an effort at healing the anger. Besides, I didn’t want out, this was making sense inside myself. A way of releasing anger. Others would hurt just like I did.

The style of living had become so normal for myself. Even though these actions didn’t start by being comfortable. They felt unsafe and took time to grow into. Learning the attachment to resentment and anger. Giving those negative emotions air to breath. Allowing them to occupy the thoughts and feelings inside. The emotion of anger never truly felt comfortable. More like an uncomfortable pit inside my stomach. An anxious feeling following with me each day. Involving itself in nearly every interaction taking place in life. I couldn’t get rid of the emotion, so I settled for embracing anger. The sad thing became my desire to have those feelings of emptiness. Calling out for more and more of the negative treatment. Surrounding myself with the emotions until positivity from others was repulsed. The good feelings began providing that awkward feelings inside, as the negative pit in my stomach represented normalcy. Positivity evolved into the emotion challenging to handle. Running away from attention involving even the slightest feeling of good. The learned habit only driving me deeper into the darkness of negative social interaction. The struggling self-worth only piled upon when the actions of bullying others took place. Once that line got crossed, the slippery slope had started taking me away. It seems one thing to be a victim of emotional abuse. Which has the ability to make us feel pretty rotten. When the abuse translates into being projected out of oneself, a whole new level of destruction gets achieved. Now, not only feeling horrible about forms of treatment. But, feeling even worse about my treatment of others. A spiral simply continuing the voyage into darkness.

Self-worth doesn’t seem survivable in the midst of darkness. When the receiving of being bullied makes complete sense. As cerebral palsy had become my fault, the disability was open to belittlement. Almost deserving the insults being thrust upon my person. After having fallen further into the trap of negativity. By turning around the insults over things related to my disability. Turning them into negative actions toward others. The impact of CP, not being looked upon as beyond my control. A mistake thoughtfully wishing could have been recognized earlier. The resulting mistake was pushing me on into hurting others. Making me part of the group of people I had chosen. Talking behind the back of others and insulting people with bouts of rage equaled inclusion. Through the years of harmful actions, something distant kept coming to the surface. Not often taking place in high intervals. Unfamiliar thoughts happening in moments of quiet. Moments of being left to my individual emotions. The clearing of exterior influences. Chaos and negativity taking a rest from impacting my path. When the concern over being included momentarily evaporated from life. The loneliest of appearing moments weren’t feeling so lonely at all. The strangeness of the comforting positive emotions would eventually be pushed aside. After basking in them for mere minutes, when the quiet was just right. Then, pushing the feelings away in favor of the familiar chaos. The aspects of a chaotic life, keeping me included with my group of friends. Continuing the feeling of negative self-worth remained key to social survival. Bullying and anger were my sense making path forward.

Applied pressure of people around us seems to carry strong impacts. The negative behavior had turned into normalcy. Causing foggy thoughts and anxiety to dominate most days. There was something unsettling about life. The people truly important to me were being shoved away. In favor of some propensity toward uncomfortable emotions. With the eerie feelings came the inclusion so desperately sought after. The gang wasn’t going to leave me alone while falling in line with them. Because inclusion had taken such precedent, I was found doing what needed to be done. Often resulting in stuffing my own feelings far beneath the surface. Remaining silent over things making me feel uncomfortable. Even participating to greater extents in the discomfort to rationalize negative perspectives inside my mind. Everything was manifesting as chaos, having further impact on my self-worth. Obscuring my own moral views, making them feel irrelevant. It became my role to think like others. Adding validation to belittling behavior of myself and other people. Finding myself right there in the middle of participating and promoting disparaging comments. Much of the reasons for being part of these situations have been my responsibility. The allowing for my own self-worth to find such unbalanced places. Turning itself into excuses for treating others with such disrespect. The uncomfortable places of my emotions weren’t allowing for courage. Courage needed to embrace a path toward change, had gone missing.

However, pathways toward something better continued presenting themselves. In quiet moments coming from unique occasions. The interesting part of life was those moments continuing to exist. Almost refusing to abandon my ability. Believing the courage to latch on would be found in time. The only reason making sense to me has been that of The Lord. A constant whisper in those still moments. Letting me know hope and grace were waiting. Even though present, the whispers continued being ignored. Believing I was unworthy of feeling better. After all, the negative thoughts and behaviors remained. Going out in the evenings to the bar. Surrounding myself with the same people who gravitated toward belittlement. While continuing to take part in the behavior with some cocktails. There didn’t seem signs of slowing down. At times, getting together was an idea of mine. Anytime they would call, I would come running. Hoping circumstances might be different this time. Or inaccurately feeling the events of the night could be handled. Social time with others was supposed to be good. Telling myself whatever happened would be washed away the following day. It really wouldn’t turn into any life altering situation. Just one or two drinks wouldn’t have that large an impact. But, the fleeting quiet moments of peace were drowning out more and more. Replaced by the hope of going out on the weekends into these unhealthy situations. The anger and bullying were only getting worse. The continued toxic conversations, thoughts, and actions starting to inflict a toll. Though through it all, hope kept presenting itself upon waking up each morning.

Relief became present on a morning drive. Without being able to pinpoint when the drives started. At some point along the way, waking in the morning was accompanied by disturbing emotions. Not each morning, usually following nights of socializing at a bar. The feelings became sickening when rolling out of bed. Having not consumed enough alcohol to threaten intoxication. Always making it a point to remain shy of the tipping point. Even still, things about those nights were increasingly disturbing. The morning drives to fetch coffee provided times of peace. Processing thoughts over the previous night of social interactions. Interactions that really hadn’t been questioned before that time. The journeys past fields of farmland brought about quiet moments. Granting the platform to think about my perspectives about life and myself. Wondering who I was deciding to be as a person. It was a safe place to ponder whatever was on my mind. Just two lane roads and a radio playing whatever felt good in the moment. Usually early in the morning, as anxiety caused sleeping challenges. The quiet roads taking away the chaos and anger seeming to cloud judgment. At the time, there wasn’t much thought about myself as being kind. Especially before those morning drives began. The idea only gaining traction with each bend of the farm roads. Starting to release itself in the rural stillness. As the fear, anger, and abusive thoughts gradually faded away somewhere. Maybe there really was kindness inside me, allowing it to break free was another story.

The ideas of myself as a kind person weren’t going to work in my social world. Allowing myself to embrace the thoughts of self-worth would carry consequences. Turning away from the belittlement marking much of my life didn’t seem optional. Both on the giving and receiving spectrum of abusive behavior. Beginning to take on new ways of thinking would require many things. Most of them, without my knowledge of understanding how it could be done. Yet, each time a challenging night in some bar would occur. The habit of waking to an hour of driving for coffee would follow. Seeming to signify the origination of letting inside new ideas about myself. However, the feelings of kindness bubbling up continued to be pushed away. In favor of spending time around those enforcing negative feelings. Inducing me to remain far from walking away from the bullying way of life. Being included was still at the top of my list, even with the cost to others. Lacking the comprehension of selfishness radiating from my behavior.  Until slowly the tears began to fall along those roads. Thinking about relationships having an impact on my life. Gradually opening my eyes to the treatment taking place. Nothing had been spoken to me directly. Outside factors were creeping into the fabric of a significant relationship at the time. Hinting about the dysfunction occurring around my social circle. Wanting, if for nothing else, for my eyes to be opened to the destruction being ignored.

Quietness of moments can have large impacts. The times of questioning thoughts sending us into new directions. Not always occurring at the speed we would like. At times, the valley needing to be climbed out of might be deep. With little perspective around circumstances causing such a deep crevasse. My life had been allowed to spin into one of those dark indentations. With the responsibility falling on my shoulders. The fault of pain and anger were beyond my control. Failing to recognize the offers of help and discarding the opportunity to grow were at my feet. So, the morning drives began piling up day after day. When the moments felt safe, void of anger, chaos, or bullying. They casually whispered about the good person inside, being covered up by influences granted permission to steer my thoughts. As time crept onward, the quiet thoughts started being noted. No longer being shoved aside with the force of earlier periods. The groundwork was being laid for the occurrence of major change. Without true understanding of when the story would be tipped onto another path. The quiet was providing different ideas about self-worth. Showing the good beneath the anger and bullying. Grace could be felt in the morning fog. Starting the slow burn of courage required to break out of those emotionally abusive habits.