…it can’t be that bad. Right?
This post has been on my mind for a while, though I don’t have the slightest idea where it’s going to end up. I’ve wanted to blog for weeks, but had papers due and sleep to take advantage of whenever I could.
Last weekend, my Dad and I went to see Elton John (for the 5th time together) at the DCU center is Worcester. It was a Christmas present for him, with the added bonus that he had to take me to get the present. 😉 He put on an amazing show, playing a mix of everything from the hits, to new music with special guest Leon Russell, and two of my favorites which he never plays live–Funeral for a Friend and Candle in the Wind! Did I mention how amazing it was??
While I was at the concert, I had one of those incredible, indescribable moments where you just find yourself thinking “wow, this is my life”. It was amazing to spend the time with my dad, something we don’t get to do very often due to our busy lives, and to be able to share this experience, for the 5th time in my 22 years, of seeing a true legend take the stage and play to a sold out crowd for 3 straight hours. He even jumped on the piano at one point and did a little handstand type thing on the keys! Such classic Elton! 🙂
Then he played “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me”.
This is one of my favorite song/lyric combinations of all time. As I was listening and singing along, the same line that always touches me hit my heart full force. “But these cuts I have, oh they need love, to help them heal.”
These words have always rang true for me. Yet, in that arena, in that moment, it reached a whole new level. I have cuts. I have many physical cuts. Many relating, in some way or another, to Cerebral Palsy. These cuts have had various meanings: surgeries, injections, falls…life. Each of these cuts was made under the guise of betterment. To make me stand better, walk better, function better. Be better. Because, according to some logic, being better=being happier. Right? Wrong. These cuts, well, they led to a lot of scars. Not the kind of scars you can see. The hidden scars. The invisible scars. The scars on the inside, on your heart. I never understood this logic, but there was one thing I did understand. The physical cuts will heal on their own. All that will be left will be thin scars. These physical scars, however, will always serve as a reminder of the emotional ones. In order to heal those, you need to love and feel love. And sometimes that love comes by doing something you love.
For me, that’s working on walking by myself. (I don’t know where this openness is coming from, but I’m just going to go with it before my brain tells my heart to stop).
The past few weeks have felt like a giant answered prayer for me. I’ve been working on walking a lot in PT and looking up all sorts of information that I think could help. In it’s own way, this has been, and continues to be, a healing process for me. It might one half hour every week (sometimes less), but for that short amount of time, I am as happy as I can imagine myself being. With each step, I feel love and I feel healing.
Walking used to be about normal.
It used to be about a cure.
It used to be about forgetting CP.
It used to be about proving so many people wrong. (Okay, I can’t lie. Ir’s still a little about that.)
Today? Today it’s about that feeling on the inside.
It’s about believing in where I am and who I am and my strength and determination to be going after something that is so not easy.
It’s about making every one of those scars on the outside mean something, and making the one’s on the inside slowly start to close.
It’s about knowing I can, and knowing that when I do, someone else out there will believe they can too.
It’s about love, and happiness, and healing.