What Cerebral Palsy Taught Me About Control (And Letting Go of It)
“Can you control it?”
That’s easily one of the top five questions I get about living with Cerebral Palsy.
And honestly? I never mind it.
Because it gives me the opportunity to teach. And when you live with a neurological disorder, education becomes part of your leadership.
So let me answer it properly.
First, here’s what I cannot control. (control NOT do, two completely separate ideas I’d like you to remember reading this.)
1. Signal Misfires
My brain requests one specific movement.
My body responds, “Yeah… we’re not doing that.”
Cerebral Palsy affects how signals travel from brain to muscle. That means:
Muscles contract when they shouldn’t.
Movements exaggerate.
Tremors show up uninvited.
They are neurological — not motivational.
I cannot will them to stop. I cannot “focus harder” and eliminate them. Trust me, I’ve tried.
2. Accuracy
I type with two thumbs and can hit 80–90 words per minute (yes, I tested it).
Is it accurate?
Absolutely not.
Just typing this article probably sent autocorrect into cardiac arrest.
Speed? Sometimes.
Precision? Negotiable.
I do not control the fine motor coordination required for perfection.
3. Public Perception
People will believe what they want to believe.
If my hands shake, some assume:
Nervous
Anxious
Distracted
Less capable
But perception is built from their experiences — not my reality.
I do not control what others project onto me.
4. Fatigue
Cerebral Palsy requires energy most people don’t realize I’m spending.
What looks “normal” externally often costs more internally.
Every day includes:
Balancing
Stabilizing
Compensating
Concentrating
My body works overtime before noon. The simplest tasks require more energy than most.
I don’t control when it decides it has reached capacity.
5. Pain Signals
Muscle tightness
Pinched nerves
Overuse from compensating
CP does not clock out at 5 p.m.
6. The Pace of Certain Tasks
Do not time me doing mundane tasks. I promise I will not meet your standard.
Shoelaces?
My shoulder will pop out every single time until I’m done tying. Then I pop it back in like it’s part of the routine.
Tiny coffee creamers?
Absolutely not.
Fine motor tasks?
Let’s rename those “difficult but doable.”
I cannot rush my nervous system.
When I force speed, precision declines.
Now here’s the part that matters most.
Out of everything I cannot control, there is one thing I absolutely can:
My determination not to let any of it stop me.
In one sentence:
Cerebral Palsy may influence my muscles — but it does not control my mind.
It does not control my ambition.
It does not control my leadership.
It does not control my motherhood.
It does not control my future.
Control, I’ve learned, isn’t about stopping the tremor. It’s about choosing not to let it stop me.
