Green is not only my favorite color—it’s also the color that represents a cause deeply rooted in my heart.
At just 18 months old, I was diagnosed with spastic diplegic cerebral palsy due to a brain bleed that occurred at birth. This diagnosis changed the entire trajectory of my life. It was never part of the plan. As a result, I’ve become a full-time wheelchair user, undergone around 20 major surgeries between the ages of two and fourteen, and faced daily challenges my able-bodied peers rarely have to consider.
When I was younger, I didn’t think too deeply about my disability—it was just the way things were. But as I’ve grown older, my relationship with it has become more complicated. Living with a disability is not something I would ever describe as easy. More often than not, it’s exhausting, heartbreaking, and frustrating—like fighting a war with your own body every day, where your legs and your brain never communicate the way they should. That ongoing battle has taken a toll on me physically, mentally, emotionally, and socially.
And still, despite the pain and limitations, there is a strange kind of beauty in it.
Cerebral palsy has shaped me into the person I am today: someone who is supportive, compassionate, empathetic, and deeply appreciative of life’s small joys. Without it, things like visiting national parks, getting piggyback rides, hiking the M trail, cross-country skiing, lying in the snow, rafting, walking, being eye-level with loved ones, learning to drive, and living independently wouldn’t mean as much to me as they do.
CP has given me a “prove me wrong” attitude. It’s taught me to be hardworking, ambitious, patient, and strong. It’s forced me to prioritize my health and well-being, and to celebrate even the smallest victories. Most importantly, it’s brought incredible people into my life—some of my best friends like Jalen, Hayden, Sarah, Tiana, Meg, Jade, Paula, and Britney—who I never would have met otherwise. These people are, without a doubt, the best thing my disability has ever given me. They make the hard days and the daily challenges I face well worth it.
Although my relationship with my disability is still complex—and likely always will be—I’ve done a lot of healing in the past few years, thanks to an incredible support system.
I got a new power chair that allows me to stand, finally putting me at eye level with the people I love. I began driving lessons after an eight-year journey full of setbacks and delays. I started participating in adaptive activities like rafting, cross-country skiing, and hiking—things I would’ve never tried a few years ago because I struggled to embrace my disability as part of my identity.
One of the most emotional experiences I’ve had was hiking the M trail for the first time using an all-terrain wheelchair from MonTech. I never thought I’d be able to hike that trail due to its inaccessibility, but with my friends by my side, I crossed it off my bucket list. We did it again for my 25th birthday this year, and it was just as meaningful, special, and emotional as it was last year.
Last year, I even stepped far outside my comfort zone and appeared on the local news to share my hiking story. It was one of the most nerve-wracking things I’ve ever done, but I was proud—so proud—of myself. I never would have had the courage to do something like that a few years ago.
Now, I hope to pay it forward.
I want to help others navigate their own journeys of acceptance, healing, and self-discovery—especially within the therapeutic setting. My dream is to become a mental health professional and to support others through the very challenges I’ve faced myself. Until that dream becomes reality, I am committed to continuing what I’ve always done: making the impossible feel possible, and inspiring others to believe they can do the same.