by Jeremy Einbinder
Growing up with a physical disability, I always felt that my physical issues took a front seat to other challenges I had. They were, after all, visible: I use a wheelchair. I have stiff muscles. I walk with a walker, and my legs always cross in front of each other when I step. That much is obvious. But there are other issues I struggle with too – issues that are not as easy for others to see.
It’s hard to know what to view as a neurological difference, and what would be a part of who I am, regardless. For me, a person with cerebral palsy, immediately apparent disability is hard to deal with. Other challenges I have are hard to even spot.
Navigating the world, both physically and socially, has always been difficult for me. Whether it was just a lack of exposure growing up, or some defined social difficulties that could be clinically explained, I knew I struggled: I spoke too loudly at times. I had trouble self-monitoring. It was difficult to keep up with the flow of conversation. There were long periods of time when I could not stay organized.
Practical solutions to address these invisible challenges always sounded good to me, but combating scattered thinking and a short attention span is tough when the very nature of the problem is what makes it difficult to overcome. If I knew how to control my volume and follow conversational flow, the monitoring of my speech and thought patterns wouldn’t be something in need of improvement. The reason they’re difficult creates the same issues they cause.
A physical disability is easier to note, easier to identify. Many people with a compromised ability to explore their environments might end up with considerable social deficits, or it might be a clinical explanation.
Because cerebral palsy is neurological, my brain is my body and my body is my brain. The physical impairments associated with cerebral palsy may be my most obvious issue, but it’s impossible to completely separate my physical issues from my social ones.
There have been some things that I assumed were second nature to others that I struggle with. I don’t know the in-depth nature of the struggles of every acquaintance I encounter, but I do know mine. Even though I intellectually know that other people have struggles, having anxiety can make me feel like I’m emotionally alone. Having focus issues can literally isolate me, leaving me in one place without much live, in-person contact as I struggle not to toggle between Facebook and YouTube. In college, I distracted myself from homework assignments. Now, I distract myself from looking for paid jobs and an actual way to be out of my parents’ house on a consistent enough basis such that it constitutes a reasonably filled social life.
Being busy is stressful, but stress would give me something to pay attention to. Imposing the stress on myself is a difficult task, but I know it would serve me well and give me a sense of inclusion. The problem is, I have to be relaxed and focused enough to motivate myself. This will always be a constant work in progress.
There are lots of ways I could see as being productive for any student or young adult with these types of issues, even if they are difficult to implement. My advice would be to try to remain aware of patterns that might be damaging. Keep yourself in check and remind yourself you’ll feel more accomplished after your tasks have been completed. I struggle to keep this is mind, but it’s better to ask for help than it is to stew in your own inadequacy, whether it’s social skills or vocational skills.
There have always been a few points in which I can breathe a sigh of relief.
I did finish my coursework. I did graduate college. I did write this essay. I am working part-time as an intern. But I know it’s not enough. I seek to become regularly employed to “get to it eventually.” I have some catching up to do.
Jeremy Einbinder earned his undergraduate degree in Radio-Television-Film from Rowan University. A resident of Union County, he is an intern at the New Jersey Council on Developmental Disabilities.
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