Self-Introduction —
fragment, June 2026
I live interdependently.
Not as a triumph. Not as something that requires a round of applause or a news segment. I’m a social creature, and I live the way most people in their thirties do: leaning on others, being leaned on, with a lot of logistics running quietly in the background. I value my downtime too, the hours cast aside just for me; that’s not a disability thing, that’s an everybody thing. What I’m after is fairly ordinary: a life of dignity and connection. I just prefer people getting to know me for me. Fitting in only ever really mattered in those awkward teen years. That’s a fragment of time, a younger version of you. College, share houses, and a lot of other experiences taught me that connection is better when it’s sustained, valued, and cherished, rather than the kind that turns up once, does something transactional, and calls it a good deed.
A person’s life isn’t worth less just because disability makes connection harder or different. It’s when someone lets it damage a relationship that the problem shows: that’s a reflection on them, not on the worth of the life they’re stepping away from.
I want to live in my body.
Not despite it. Not around it. In it. My body has cerebral palsy ataxia, which affects my balance and the way I move through the world. I sustain my body by attending Clinical Pilates sessions, walking short distances, I find I am that little more agile when in a mobility scooter named Fende, and turns up to work. It is not a problem I am solving. It is just a fragment of how I live, life.
, this is what my week looks like.
Physiotherapy. Clinical Pilates. Work. The kind of week that has structure and purpose and, occasionally, a decent live gig somewhere affordable, with a friend, Friday evening per se. This is me leading an ordinary life; a great life is not a schedule built around managing a disability. It is just a life, one I chose, and keep choosing.
Wanderlust-Cerebral Palsy -and-me 