Owing Who You Are, No Matter What Life Brings

This week, I decided to write a letter to my younger self — the version of me who was just beginning to understand what it meant to live with cerebral palsy. Sometimes, the best way to see how far we’ve come is to look back with kindness and gratitude.

If I could go back in time, this is what I’d tell her.

Coffee in hand, I wrote a letter to my younger self — the one who didn’t yet know how powerful she really was. ☕💚

Dear Josephine,

It’s me — you, at 45. You’re about to finish the 4th grade, and I’m writing to you from 2023. (Go ahead and laugh — you’re probably wondering what “LOL” means, right?)

I’m here to tell you something important: own who you are. I know you’re rolling your eyes because, well, I’m you, and I remember how many times we rolled our eyes at 12. But hear me out.

Having cerebral palsy is challenging — sometimes it downright sucks — and believe me, life doesn’t always get easier. But one of the hardest lessons we learned was that not owning who we are only makes things tougher. It’s taken nearly half a lifetime to truly accept and embrace ourselves.

Life didn’t make it easy for us. When I was your age, disabilities weren’t accepted the way they are now. It’s a little better today, thanks in part to what President George H. W. Bush signed into law. (Side note: in 2020, you’ll understand why I’m calling him that.) People have come a long way in accepting those with disabilities in their communities.

I know it feels unfair sometimes. But everything you and your parents are doing right now is not just paving the way for you — it’s opening doors for others with disabilities in your community too.

Now, the reason I’m writing this letter: I want you to understand that owning who you are, right now, might save you from some of the heartaches we experienced later. I won’t share every detail of what we went through — some lessons you’ll have to learn on your own — but know this: where we are now, at 45, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Looking back, I wouldn’t change much, even with all the struggles. Every hardship had a purpose. We lived by the phrase “Life Without Limits,” the slogan for cerebral palsy. It means not letting CP define or limit you. We pushed ourselves to live up to those words — sometimes too far. It took us a long time to understand the responsibility behind that phrase. Living “without limits” doesn’t mean ignoring your needs; it means finding strength within them.

When we pushed too hard, we lost balance — but each time, we found our way back. The truth is, the weakest part of us — our cerebral palsy — became our greatest strength. It taught us resilience. It kept us alive.

If you take one thing from this letter, let it be this: what you see as your weakness is actually your power. It will carry you through life.

So, Josephine, enjoy your journey. Don’t let what others see as your weakness define you. Embrace your challenges, learn from them, and let them shape you into the amazing woman you become.

And if you ever have questions, you can always write me back.With love,
You — at 45