Somewhere along the way, my diagnosis began arriving before I did. Not because anyone asked—but because I offered it first. I thought leading with cerebral palsy made things easier. What I didn’t realize was that I was shrinking myself before anyone else had the chance to see me.

After surveying 60 people and learning that every single one knew someone with a disability, I realized something powerful: disability isn’t rare—it’s familiar. From the tremors I worried would define me in a high school classroom to the clarity that came with time and confidence, this reflection explores how disability is not an interruption to life, but a deeply human part of it—and how choosing how we’re perceived can be just as important as how we’re seen.

Growing up with cerebral palsy taught me how to apologize for my body—until humor helped me turn the volume up on my voice.

I’m not less—I’m more. This is about reclaiming labels, humor, and identity on my own terms.

I don’t want pity or lowered expectations. I want to be measured by my work.

Life with tremors comes with bloopers. Laughter makes them survivable.