For most of my life, I didn’t know I had a disability. There were signs, but I didn’t have the language, understanding, or diagnosis to explain them. I experienced difficulty with coordination, stiffness in my muscles, walking challenges, including toe-heel walking, and fatigue.
Tasks that seemed easy for others often took more effort for me. Instead, I found different ways to complete everyday activities.
Because I didn’t know what I had or what was happening, I assumed this was all normal – just something I needed to push through. That I’d get better. I still talk about that. I adjusted. I adapted. I retreated into my own world. I avoided things at school that felt physically demanding.
I learned to manage without talking about it.
It was never spoken about – and I instinctively knew not to bring it up. Without knowing it, I became my own support.
It wasn’t until my forties that I was finally diagnosed with cerebral palsy. The type and severity had a name: differences in muscle tone, a leg length discrepancy, an odd gait, and walking with a limp.
It gave me something I’d never had before: context.
The diagnosis didn’t change the past, but it helped me make sense of it. What I’d experienced, what I’d adapted to silently – now had a reason. That knowledge brought relief. It didn’t fix anything, but it made the burden feel lighter.
Even before the diagnosis, I had already made allowances. I’d figured out coping strategies for undiagnosed disability. I got through hard days. I supported myself.
The way I responded to both physical and emotional stimuli remained unexplained until nearly ten years later, when I was also diagnosed with autism. It finally brought understanding, another lens through which to view my life experiences.
Receiving a late diagnosis of autism was just as important as the cerebral palsy diagnosis. It explained the way I processed the world, the exhaustion, the social navigation, and the need for structure and for routine.
Both diagnoses, though decades apart, helped me finally see my whole self.
Through writing and with more awareness of my disabilities, I continue to support myself, this time with clarity and no guilt. It's not my guilt to carry, to hold onto.
Yes, some days are still difficult. Living with cerebral palsy and autism as an adult isn’t easy. There are miscommunications 'on how I am' – but I understand myself better now and know what I need – I give myself permission to meet those needs.
For most of my life, I went without knowing. I simply assumed I was "normal," just a bit clumsy, overly sensitive, or slow to catch on. But that wasn’t the truth.
The truth is that I had been living with undiagnosed cerebral palsy and autism and I’d managed, even without knowing it.
I still manage. I still adapt. I still support myself. But now, I do it with awareness and that makes it different.
