I was adopted at three days old.
My adopted parents had no idea what it was God had planned for the them. I was about six months old when they realized there was something not right, and they were concerned about me. After several doctor and hospital visits, when I was about two years old, I was officially diagnosed as having cerebral palsy. My parents knew then that they had a long road ahead of them. But they were okay with it. As years passed, I had several surgeries on my legs.
As a child growing up with CP, it was a big challenge for me as well. Between the name calling and getting around, it was not easy. Back then, I was able to walk short distances with a cane or a walker. But now it's a different story. I only can walk with a walker or by gaining assistance for a shorter distance. I use an electric wheelchair 99.9% of time. I started to use an electric wheelchair when I began college, because the campus was so hilly, and the buildings were far apart from one another. Additionally, when I was in college I also had to jump another hurdle, so to speak. At age twenty, I started to have gran mal seizures. The cause was unknown. The doctors just said it had to do with my CP.
Once I got out of college, got married, and had a daughter, I became more reliant on my electric wheelchair because I was much more independent and enjoyed being self-reliant. During this time, I ended up being diagnosed with having borderline personally disorder and began having anxiety attacks as well. I eventually ended up getting a divorce from my first husband after four years of marriage. He decided he didn't like being in a cold climate, and the jobs available here weren't good enough. So, he left us on our fourth wedding anniversary.
I became a single mother to a seventeen-month-old toddler. I did it all on my own, except for a little help from my parents on weekends. Then, after awhile, I met another gentleman. He became a part of our lives and was around for two years before we both realized it was not meant to be. During, this time, I began utilizing in-home health care . I could now have someone come in my home and help me do (mainly) housework that was hard for me to do on my own. I also had them help me with some personal care, when it was needed. Just when I thought all men were scum bags, a man that I met through my caregiver was so nice to me and loving toward to me. I thought he was the one for me, so I married him.
We were almost married for two years when I found out that he was sexually molesting my daughter, who was only eight at the time. When I found this out, Child Protective Services was involved, he was out of the house for good. I'm now getting a divorce, living separated with an eleven year old. The point of me telling my story? No one can tell me I can't take care of myself.
Even in tremendous difficulty, I have so far. Yes, with some struggles and obstacles on the way, but I manage. It makes me mad when someone looks at me critically or judges me before they get to know me first.
*Image courtesy Flickr creative commons.