I didn’t know that I had cerebral palsy until I was forty-six.
Most children grow up with at least a basic understanding of themselves. They learn who they are and the challenges they may face while they're growing up, while they're still young. For me, that understanding came decades later.
By the time I discovered the truth, I had already lived through decades of trying to understand why I was different and why certain things felt more difficult than they seemed to be for others.
For years I tried to make sense of challenges that never had explanations. I assumed my difficulties and shortcomings were something I needed to try harder to overcome and continued to blame myself when I couldn’t. IT IS the reason I threw away my school reports.
Walking toe-heel and having to wear a heel raise as a young child was something I never came to terms with. Having my father continually tell me to pick my foot up as he walked behind me was something else. Paralysis and the lack of muscle tone on my left side, and a foot drop I didn’t know I had, was something else. They were all my biggest bug bears.
When the truth finally surfaced, experiences that once felt confusing began to make more sense. But understanding doesn’t arrive all at once. It unfolds slowly, but it cannot change your experiences or what you have lived through.
But discovering I had cerebral palsy at forty-six wasn’t the end of the story. Instead, it became the beginning of a different and longer story, through reflection, learning and trying to understand how something that had been kept from me, went on to shape me, and my life.
Nearly 3 decades later and now in my sixties, I am still reflecting on how living without that knowledge has influenced me, my childhood, how I came to see myself, and how others still see me. None of it is comfortable reading.
Discovering something so fundamental about your identity in adulthood is challenging. It's painful. It asks you to revisit memories and experiences with openness and honesty, no matter how hard they are to address. But in doing so, you end up with a new awareness, allowing you to see things as they should have been, no matter how difficult that is.
It's freeing because you no longer have to carry what doesn't belong to you. It’s not comfortable, and it became necessary.
No child should be left out or kept in the dark.
The truth can open the door to greater understanding and compassion, but it can also leave burning questions, anger, and a bitter taste. It's no wonder I grew up with anger issues. It's a lot for any child to deal with.
But learning about yourself is not something that only belongs to childhood. If it doesn’t happen then, it will have to continue throughout your life, because childhood experiences don’t simply go away – instead like me, you may find yourself having to learn about yourself until you find peace. Discovering truths about yourself later on can change how you see your past, and it can give you a clearer path forward.
After fifteen years of writing for The CP Diary, I realise that finding my voice has been a journey in itself. Sitting in my truth now feels less about being brave for a moment and more about allowing myself the space to be honest, even when that honesty feels uncomfortable. And it is.
Writing through reflection has taught me that stories matter, not because they are perfect, but because they are real. If sharing my truth helps even one person feel seen, understood, or less alone, then every word written over these years has been worth it.
