Disability Pride Series

Our Beautiful Challenges — Marie

When people look at me today, they see someone who is proud to talk about disability.

They see an advocate.

A writer.

Someone who speaks openly about living with cerebral palsy.

But it wasn’t always that way.

For years, I was afraid of being associated with the disability community.

Not because I was ashamed of other people with disabilities.

I was afraid of what I might see in myself.

Growing up, I spent so much of my life trying to prove that I was “just like everyone else.”

I wanted people to see Marie before they saw cerebral palsy.

I wanted to fit in.

To be accepted.

To be seen as capable.

Looking back, I realize that much of that fear came from the ableism I experienced throughout my life.

Sometimes it came from strangers.

Sometimes it came from the systems around me.

Sometimes it came from people who simply didn’t understand disability.

After hearing those messages for years, I started believing them myself.

I thought that if I stayed away from the disability community, maybe people would see me differently.

But all I was really doing was running from a part of myself.

Everything changed when I reached a point in life where I couldn’t keep running anymore.

I had to decide whether I was going to continue fighting against who I was—or begin accepting the person I had always been.

Acceptance didn’t happen overnight.

It happened one conversation at a time.

One challenge at a time.

One victory at a time.

The more I met other people with disabilities, the more I realized something important.

Our disabilities may be different.

Our stories may be different.

But we all understand what it feels like to overcome obstacles that many people never have to think about.

That realization changed me.

Instead of seeing disability as something that separated me from others, I began seeing it as something that connected me to an incredible community.

Today, when I look through my own eyes, I no longer see limitation first.

I see resilience.

I see determination.

I see years of learning, adapting, and growing.

I see someone who has fought for independence.

Someone who has learned to advocate.

Someone who continues to build a life that reflects who she truly is.

Having cerebral palsy is part of my story.

But it is not the whole story.

I am also a woman.

A daughter.

A partner.

A writer.

An advocate.

A friend.

A person who continues to learn every single day.

Disability Pride Month has taught me that pride isn’t about pretending life is easy.

It’s about embracing every part of who we are—including the challenges that helped shape us.

For years, I wondered if I would ever feel comfortable saying I was part of the disability community.

Today, I say it with pride.

Because when I finally stopped seeing disability through the world’s eyes and started seeing it through my own, everything changed.

And that may be the greatest freedom of all.