Sometimes it is 23 Instead of 13

By Mark E. Smith

This fall ushered in tremendous changes for me as a father. With my daughter now reaching 13, she’s unmistakably growing up. In our school district, junior high and high school are consolidated into one, so I literally went from waiting for the elementary school bus each morning with my daughter last year to dropping her off at the high school on my way to work this year. Over one summer, it seems that my daughter went from a child to a teenager. In fact, she did.

To her credit – and my saving grace so far – my daughter has been handling her transition extremely well. Despite all of the distractions – from learning the ropes at “high school,” to being a member of Drama Club and band, to a booming social life – she’s done extremely well during the first grading period and continues dedicated and responsible in our home life, as well.

This past Halloween was another hallmark for me as a father: It was the first year that I didn’t take my daughter trick-or-treating. Instead, she chose to go out trick-or-treating with her friends, supervised by a few mothers. As one of the mother’s Volvo station wagon pulled away from our house – carrying my daughter dressed as Bat Girl, and too many of her friends in costumes to identify – I was both proud and a tad nostalgic as I sat in the doorway, waving goodbye.

At 9:30pm sharp, as planned, my daughter’s friend’s mom pulled up in our driveway – kids flopping out every window with energy – and when I opened our front door, there was my daughter on our front porch, with her friend, Marc.

I noted Marc’s supposed-to-be-scary costume – an escaped zombie convict – then waived to everyone in the car, my daughter all wound up, rushing past me, talking about the sights and stories of the evening, plopping her bag full of candy on the kitchen table. As I closed the door and turned off the light in our foyer, the thought hit me: Did a “boy” really just walk my daughter to the door?

He sure did. And, as a father, it’s part of my job – along with guiding and communicating – to accept that my daughter continues growing up. No, my role isn’t to let go by any stretch – as at 13 through college, my daughter needs my guidance and boundaries more than ever – but I need to realize that I’m dealing with an evolving person, and just as my daughter grows, so must I.

Parents and their children with disabilities go through the same journey as my daughter and me – one of a child’s growth toward autonomy – but often at a much later age. The reality is, based on social stigmas and physical limitations, many of those with disabilities don’t begin exploring social experiences and autonomy till much later in life – often, not until their 20s or older – and that fact can dramatically complicate the boundaries that exist between parent and child.

For many teens with disabilities, they simply aren’t as socially active as their peers. Stigmas toward disabilities still remain, where teens with disabilities can be somewhat isolate from a wide scope of peers, and physical limitations may restrict how readily teens with disabilities interact with their peers – I know that as a 13-year-old with cerebral palsy who used a wheelchair, I couldn’t run off with friends in their moms’ Volvos like my daughter can. Further, parents and relatives of teens with disabilities can be understandably overprotective at times, creating an upbringing where physical care and disability-related needs eclipse socialization and autonomy. As hard as it is for those of us with able-bodied children to allow our children to grow up, it can be even more emotionally harrowing for parents of those with disabilities.

As a result, many with disabilities don’t begin to explore their true independence until they are in their 20s, most often facilitated by peer groups who are more accepting at that age of those with disabilities than when everyone was in their teens.

The question then becomes, how do both the parent and the child with the disability deal with the child’s late explorations of socialization and autonomy? After all, it’s one thing to set a 9:30pm curfew for an able-bodied 13-year-old where the parent and child roles are clearly defined, but how do a parent and child with a disability cope with such a situation when the “child” is 23?

The answer is, both the parent and adult child with a disability must be especially cognizant of the situation. The fact is, an adult child with a disability who’s lived a notably sheltered life is not emotionally a teenager or an adult, but somewhere in-between. Most teenagers develop peer socialization incrementally, and that slow, boundary-setting process evolves one’s decision-making skills based on years of social experience – it builds the protection mechanisms of judgment over time. Put simply, healthy teens don’t go from junior high to a drunken fraternity party overnight; rather, they gain social experience slowly, from hanging out with friends to dating, progressing year by year toward more mature social experiences, which then gives them judgment at hand when needed.

Yet, some with disabilities can find themselves with very limited social experience until, say, college, where they are suddenly in very adult situations, without the prior social experience needed for proper judgment. In this way, outsiders who say that a parent of a 23-year-old with a disability shouldn’t be concerned or involved in the adult child’s decisions may be overlooking the reality that the 23-year-old may still be developing his or her social experience and judgment, and requires a guidance that his or her peer group typically does not at such an age. Therefore, those with disabilities – and outsiders, as well – sometimes need to recognize that what may seem like an overbearing parent may, in fact, be a parent who’s especially wise and well-meaning, recognizing that the adult child with a disability still needs guidance at an older age.

Of course, a wise and well-meaning parent of an adult child with a disability must also recognize the importance of allowing his or her child to develop autonomy during the teen and young adult stages. Again, it’s easy for parents to hang on to the role of caregiver and guardian of a child with a disability so tightly that they overlook the child’s necessity for social experience and autonomy well into their child’s adulthood. However, as a parent of any child, while we must first ensure our child’s general safety, we must also allow his or her personal growth within appropriate boundaries, letting him or her earn his or her independence from us one decision at a time, disability or not, 13 or 23.

Interestingly, adults who acquire a later-in-life disabilities and their parents can find themselves in a similar circumstance, where boundaries and roles can revert to a very parent-child relationship, even though the adult child may be, say, 40. It’s a difficult situation when an adult child returns home with a disability, needing parental care. How, then, does an autonomous adult re-merge with his or her parents’ household, and how do the parents accept the adult child’s entirety of adulthood while providing physical care and emotional support?

In two words, it’s difficult. However, it’s not an impossible balance. Again, boundaries must come into play. The adult child must recognize and respect his or her parents’ concern and love, while the parents must likewise recognize and respect the adult child’s autonomy. Surely, a parent-child dynamic will always be present, but boundaries of adulthood – peer-to-peer – must be maintained, as well.

Mutual respect and boundaries, then, are vital between parents and adult children with disabilities, no matter if it’s life-long or later-in life disability. And, in my experience, when mutual respect and healthy boundaries aren’t maintained, the consequences can be catastrophic to all individuals involved. I’ve known many young adults with disabilities who, due to lack of social experience, and against good judgment and parental advice, have landed themselves in very harmful situations, from as common as simply making poor life choices, to as severe as being in abusive romantic relationships based on unresolved disability-related social insecurities and naivety. I’ve also known parents so overly involved in their adult children with disabilities’ lives – such as showing up on the child’s honeymoon – that they’ve either stagnated their children’s emotional growth, or destroyed the parent-child relationship altogether. Therefore, it’s critical that families address the realities of a child maturing with a disability via great awareness, where both the parent and adult child recognize their own roles and boundaries, as well as respect that of the other person.

Certainly, teens and young adults with disabilities are just like all others – they are diverse, where some socially mature sooner, while others later, some mastering social intuitiveness, while others struggle, needing guidance. However, it’s vital that both adults with disabilities and their parents recognize that there can be delayed social experience based on disability – due to physical limitations and remaining social stigmas – where one with a disability may still require responsible parenting into one’s young adulthood and beyond. For these reasons, when we hear of a young adult with a disability struggling to gain autonomy from his or her parents, let us not merely write off the parents as overbearing and unreasonable, but let us wonder whether the young adult truly has the social experience to appropriate handle a given circumstance? After all, it could simply be that the parents are wise enough to know how to best guide their child into adulthood, with the ultimate goal of healthy autonomy, no matter if it’s at age 23 instead of 13.

Living in the Great State, Detroit

By Mark E. Smith

Which of the two cities would you rather live in? One with a 28% unemployment rate, three times worse than the national average, or a city with a flourishing job market in health care, education, and technology? Would you rather live in a city with among the highest violent-crime rates in the country, or a city with among the best-rated suburbs to raise a family and retire? And, would you rather live in a city where the freeways are lined with blighted, abandoned factories, or a city full of green space and beautiful parks?

Of course, no rational person would pick a city with sky-rocketed unemployment, crime, and blight over one with booming job sectors, affluent suburbs, and tree-lined streets, right?

Not necessarily. See, both of the above described cities are really one in the same: The Detroit metropolitan area – a city that some residents wish to flee, while others tout it as among the best places to live.

Detroit, indeed, proves as a fascinating study toward how our own thinking truly dictates the tone of the world around us. In a recent visit to Detroit, I saw first-hand many of its ailments – such as when driving down the Chrysler Freeway, which looks like you’re passing through a war zone of bombed-out factories at times – but I also saw prosperity and an amazingly vibrant city in its flourishing suburbs and revitalized downtown. And, when I spoke with many who live in the Detroit area, the juxtaposition remained, with clear divisions toward how its residents feel – that is, they either hate or love the city, they either think it’s withering on the vine or getting better every day, with very few opinions in-between. Literally, based on who you ask, Detroit is either Hell on Earth, or among the best places to live in the United States.

Make no mistake, living with a disability is a lot like living in Detroit: One’s outlook plays a paramount role toward its deemed outcome. After all, the world – with few exceptions – reflects one’s own projections back upon oneself. If a resident sees living in Detroit as Hell on Earth, or paradise, it can truly be either one – and the same subjective notion holds true for living with a disability.

A wheelchair, in itself, proves the perfect model – a Detroit, you might say – for how one’s perspective makes all of the difference in how successfully one copes with disability. To some, nothing is more emblematic of all that’s lost than a wheelchair. To such individuals, a wheelchair is an object of confinement, a rolling prison, the most tangible sign of one’s disability. From the inability to walk, to a lack of accessibility, to portraying stereotypes, some see their wheelchairs as nothing but burdensome devices that have destroyed their lives.

To the contrary, others with disabilities see a wheelchair as a tool of liberation, a device that gives them the freedom to pursue as many activities as possible – education, work, family, community – welcoming all of the opportunities that the mobility of a wheelchair brings.

In this way, which perspective, then, do you suppose brings the most satisfaction and success to one’s life – hating one’s disability or embracing it?

It’s a common-sense rule that negativity breeds negativity, and positivity breeds positivity, so if we resent our lives – whether it’s resenting disability, or where we live – our outlooks truly dictate our potential. If one’s resentful toward one’s disability, of course one’s life will seem bleak and limited. Yet, the opposite holds true: If one embraces the opportunities that surround one, as with the life-changing abilities that a wheelchair affords, then one’s potentials seem markedly greater. Man, this new wheelchair will allow me to get around college and finish my degree!

Now, some might say that overlooking the negatives of any situation – from the downsides of disability to the woes within Detroit – is simply denying reality. However, the exact opposite is true. In fact, seeing the positive is about taking responsibility, truly realizing potentials, whereas dwelling on the negative shuns accountability. If you look at two unemployed people in Detroit, the one who stays positive and says, With things turning around, I know there’s a job for me somewhere here in this great city, is the one who’s bound to find a job, unlike the defeated mentality that says, With a 28% unemployment rate, I’m not even bothering to look for work in this Hell hole….

The same holds true with disability – that is, the minute one only sees the negatives, Being in this wheelchair has destroyed my life!, it’s game over, one has lost without even trying. However, when one takes responsibility and focuses on the positives – I’ve got this great wheelchair, now let me use it to reach my fullest potential – all possibilities for success are revealed.

Of course, in bleak situations – having a disability or being unemployed in Detroit – it can be natural to go into a mindset of apprehension. However, one has to make such a mindset initial and temporary, then quickly, consciously find the positives in the situation. Acknowledge the negative, then turn to the positives and potentials that allow one to not just solve an issue but actually elevate one’s life. Again, dwelling on negatives freezes one in one’s tracks and shuns accountability, whereas seeing the positives reveals potentials and fosters action. When your boat capsizes, don’t just float – swim to shore!

I was fortunate to meet a lot of prosperous, successful people in Detroit, just like I know many prosperous, successful people with disabilities – and both have accomplished their goals by staying optimistic, seeing the best even when facing worst. Be one of those types of people, one who doesn’t dwell on what’s wrong, but focus on what’s good and possible, pursuing the potentials that abound in each of our lives.

From living with a disability to living in Detroit, based on my experience, they’re both great places to be if you want to succeed – and a dash of optimism goes a long way.

Cerebral Palsy as Steroids

By Mark E. Smith

The shrubs and bushes in my front yard never cease amazing me, year after year. When I planted them eight years ago, in front of my newly-built home, they were tiny plants that merely dotted the landscape – the tallest one was a foot high at most. As the plants saw their first winter in the Northeast, I was sure that the months-long deep freeze killed them all. However, as spring came, they not only came back to life, but they grew exponentially – they were larger and more vibrant than ever. Winter after winter now, not only do my plants survive, but they come back every spring larger and more healthy, to where some are 10-feet tall, a remarkable sight of greenery that encapsulates my front yard, and an unbelievable change from those tiny plants that once only dotted the landscape.

Of course, there’s nothing truly remarkable about the plants in my front yard, as they simply comply with the changes of seasons, the laws of nature – that is, they don’t just accept the changes of seasons, but they literally use them as an opportunity to come back stronger, larger in size, with deeper roots.

As individuals, we, too, are prone to seasons of change, where through various forms of seeming loss – ended relationships, a job layoff, disability, or just overall tough times – we can find ourselves in the depths of winter in a matter of moments. Yet, we must recognize that our own seasons of change are just that – seasons – where as discouraging as life may seem at any given moment, it’s sure to change for the better, especially when we’re willing to work at it and don’t lose faith.

Arthur Blank was one who, in 1978, could have easily lost faith and gotten stuck in the depths of his sudden change of seasons, his winter. After a decades-long career with a national home-improvement chain of stores, he’d worked his way up to regional manager, a very lucrative, prestigious position in the company. But, one day in 1978, after 30 years of loyalty, Arthur Blank had a disagreement with the company’s executives – and he was fired on the spot.

It’s hard for anyone to get fired, ushering in a roller coaster of emotions that are understandably filled with defeat and self-doubt. And, Arthur Blank had them, too. But, not for long. See, Arthur Blank instinctively knew about seasons of change, and when he faced his winter – abruptly fired after 30 years – he was already looking toward his spring, where he wasn’t only going to survive life’s harshest times, he was going to use the changing of seasons to come back exponentially stronger.

Later that year, Arthur Blank co-founded a store that you may have heard of: Home Depot.

Today, Home Depot stands as among the greatest American retail businesses of all time – and it all started with Arthur Blank being fired. Unquestionably, when the seasons change for the seeming worse, we should all follow Arthur Blank’s lead, and use the time wisely, preparing ourselves for the next season, one of exponential growth.

When I was in college, my friend, Rick, followed a seasons-of-change philosophy, as well. In 1992, Rick was a construction worker in San Francisco’s downtown, welding on high-rise buildings, supporting his wife and newborn daughter on a hefty union wage. But, in March of that year, on a dew-covered I-beam, Rick’s construction boot slipped, causing him to fall 20-feet to the floor deck below. When he awoke in the hospital, he was paralyzed, a quadriplegic.

Rather than assume that his best years were behind him – after all, he’d gone in an instant from a strong, independent construction worker to a quadriplegic with dependencies on others – Rick looked toward a new season. He always loved math, a contrast to being a burley construction worker, and so he went to college, first getting an accounting degree, then his M.B.A. Today, he’s a financial analyst for a Fortune 500 company, working in one of the very buildings that he helped construct. And, as well-paying as his union construction job was, he makes about three times what he would been making today if he was still in construction.

Sure, it’s easy to look at any loss in the immediate as a bleak, never-ending change for the worst – it’s natural to be frightened by the loss of a relationship, job, or physical abilities. But, just like meteorological winter and the plants that not only survive, but come back stronger, we also have the innate ability to not just survive, but to truly thrive, even through the toughest of situations. We just need to remind ourselves that there are few constants in life, and just as life knocks us down, it provides even greater opportunities for us to rise up again even higher.

Personally, my life-long goal has been to turn the worst into the best, as often as I can. I strive to not just use turning lemons into lemonade as a cliché saying, but to make it a way of life. And, I’ve recently enjoyed reinventing myself once again using the simple outlook that within every loss – within every winter – there’s a forthcoming opportunity for tremendous growth.

Among the most challenging parts of my disability, cerebral palsy, is that my muscles are in constant motion, either contracting or spasming. As you can imagine, such a lack of muscle control not only makes everyday tasks difficult, but constant muscle movement is extremely fatiguing, to the point that one’s body throbs in pain at the end of some days – this is why muscle relaxers are used by many with severe cerebral palsy.

After living my life with my condition, I’m more used to it than distressed by it – after all, I can’t change my condition, so I accept and deal with it. What I long ago noticed, however, is that despite the seeming downsides to my disability, there are far more upsides offering potential. The same involuntary muscle movements that make everyday living more difficult and painful have actually kept me in great shape, with extremely low body fat and sculpted muscles. It’s often occurred to me that while others struggle with diet and exercise – arguably a national obsession to be thin and fit – my disability is, in fact, a magic pill, putting me way ahead of the game. I can eat as much as I want, never exercise, and stay trim and fit. People would pay for such a body type!

However, always one looking to turn negatives into positives to the extreme, I had an admittedly eccentric – but brilliant! – thought: What if I use my intrinsic physic as one with severe cerebral palsy as a catalyst toward bodybuilding? After all, bodybuilders go through tremendous lengths to get as lean as me, so if I simply hit the gym to build pure muscle mass, I should be able to be a hulking, fat-free, sculpted guy in a matter of months.

So, I emptied our guest room, invested in a high-end wheelchair-accessible gym, increased my caloric intake to 4,000 calories per day, began sucking down supplements like creatine, and started an intensive workout routine.

In taking an educated, methodical approach – and sticking with it – I’ve been gaining muscle mass at a startling rapid rate, where my whole upper body is getting bigger by the week. In fact, I’ve been consistently gaining about a pound per week – an insane amount for a guy with my build to keep adding, week after week, month after month.

During my training process, I’ve been going to the dietary and supplement store that all of the local bodybuilders go to – and, make no mistake, the guys in the store have looked at me like I’m a Martian, surely wondering what this slender, cerebral palsy guy in the power wheelchair is up to by buying these protein blends by the bucket and supplements by the bag full?

Finally, one of the guys behind the counter had the courage to ask me what was up? “You come in here every few weeks and buy all this stuff, and when I look at you now in that T-shirt, your arms are huge,” he said. “What exactly are you doing that’s getting you so big?”

“Just sucking down the crazy crap I buy here, and working out every other day,” I said, putting my discount card on the counter.

“No one gains that much muscle, that fast,” he said, scanning my items. “Dude, you must be doing something else….”

“In all seriousness, my cerebral palsy keeps my muscles in constant motion, and I burn a ton of calories, so by upping my caloric intake and using a wheelchair accessible gym, I’ve basically just been packing on muscle without adding any fat,” I replied.

“Where can I get some of that cerebral palsy?” he asked, laughing. “That stuff is better than steroids.”

Indeed, with every loss comes opportunity – we just need to welcome it. Arthur Blank didn’t see being fired as an end of his career, but as the perfect time to co-found Home Depot. My college peer, Rick, didn’t see being paralyzed as a loss of his existing life, but as the opportunity to redirect himself toward other interests. And, I didn’t see my cerebral palsy as a limitation to working out, but as an advantage in bodybuilding. When we see winter as a sure sign that spring is coming, success is inevitable – it occurs every time.

I say let us live our lives like plants throughout the seasons, where adverse conditions merely serve as the catalysts to make us stronger and more successful, year after year. We can’t always prevent being knockdown in life, but we surely can control how fiercely we get back up.

The First 90 Days to Life

By Mark E. Smith

If you study the diet and fitness infomercials on late-night television, you’ll notice that most of the before-and-after photos – from flab to fab – show amazing results in “90 days.”

What the infomercials don’t tell you is that their products are a mere secondary factory in the process, that the real magic is in the “90 days.” See, if one performs virtually any diet or exercise for 90 days, results surely follow. The reality, then, to such infomercials isn’t the quality of the product, but the consistency of the person.

Make no mistake, we live in a culture where people gauge success by their watch, not a calendar – they want results in 90 seconds, not 90 days. However, like a diet or fitness routine, much of our success takes time, and requires our consistent effort, where we don’t slack, make excuses, or give up, but simply pursue our goals day after day, with unyielding dedication and passion.

Disability can make achieving our goals – in the physical, mental, and emotional – especially challenging. After all, regardless if one has a lifelong disability, later-in-life injury, or a progressive condition, we’re constantly facing new challenges, where we must adapt and conform over a lifetime of disability experience. And, if we’re willing to approach the entirety of our life with unyielding dedication – where we don’t slack, make excuses, or give up – we see amazing results, not only in 90 days, but never-ending. The key, then, is to invest in ourselves for the long haul, recognizing that the struggles of today aren’t road blocks; rather, the struggles of today are incremental opportunities that build the foundation of our long-term success.

One of my all-time favorite stories of practicing consistency as a “disability strategy” at its best – and one of my own foremost life inspirations – involved my friend, Nola. Nola was born with a rare form of dwarfism that made independent living seemingly impossible. In fact, when I met Nola in her twenties, she lived in a care facility, a grim reality for a young woman of her age, and she’d never known any different, having lived in a care facility since she was a young teenager.

Still, Nola told me of how she sometimes thought about what it would be like to be out of a care facility, not so much to live on her own on a big scale, but to know what it was like to have true privacy, to stay up late and sleep in, to buy the foods she wished – that is, to experience freedoms that the care facility didn’t allow.

However, such independent living was the farthest reality for Nola. The care facility staff was her family, and the residents were her friends. Imagine how impossible and frightening the mere thought of moving out would have seemed for Nola. Nevertheless, Nola and I discussed her gaining more independence. No, we didn’t discuss Nola simply packing up, getting her own apartment, and living happily ever after – that dream was too lofty, too unrealistic. Rather, Nola and I discussed her merely taking a bit more control over her life, one task at a time. We discussed small steps in the immediate that might bring big changes in the long term. You might say, we discussed consistently applying single dollars toward paying down a six-figure mortgage.

And, that’s exactly what Nola did. Her first hurdle was obtaining better mobility, so she worked through the long process, day-by-day, of getting a power wheelchair. Then, she sought a social worker to help her better understand her rights as a care facility resident. And, then she took her power wheelchair to the bank one day, and opened a checking account.

As Nola accomplished each small step, she exuded more and more confidence – and I loved hearing of her progress. However, after a year of monthly calls, a few months slipped by with no word from Nola. I called the care facility, worried that I hadn’t heard from Nola, and the receptionist said that she couldn’t tell me anything about Nola except that she was no longer a resident. Of course, I was very concerned, especially since Nola had life-threatening respiratory illness from time to time. I hoped that Nola’s health risks hadn’t finally caught up with her.

About two weeks later, I received a call from Nola. She apologized for not contacting me sooner, but she had been busy moving into her apartment – yes, her own apartment!

As Nola’s story proves firsthand, our journeys of a thousand miles do begin with a single step, and require many, many more small steps. The fact is, it is sometimes impossible to get our arms around our dreams, we can’t simply go from where we are, to where we wish – we can’t simply loose weight, get in shape, or overcome physical limitations overnight. What we need is a lifetime-long “90-day plan,” where we start with a single small step, and consistently follow through, working to big changes in our lives.

In my own writing a speaking, I frequently discuss how I, too, went through a process much like Nola’s, where in my adolescence, I made the choice to do whatever it took day-by-day to become physically independent, to where I could toilet, bathe, dress, and feed myself – and it took me a long, frustrating seven years of daily battles to accomplish my goals. Yet, as I sit here today, over 20 years to the day that I mark as a turning point in my life – the day at age 18 when I was able to live on my own – I’ve never stopped working my “90-day plan” of consistently addressing daily trials as the key toward long-term successes, big and small.

My entire adult life has been shadowed by a seemingly trivial, yet important, reality: My inability to tie my own neck ties. In my business, I often have to wear neck ties – and I like the professionalism that ties present, as well. Unfortunately, due to my cerebral palsy not only has tying a neck tie been impossible, so has merely buttoning the top button of my dress shirts, as required when wearing a tie. My lack of being able to tie a neck tie or button my top button has kept me frustratingly dependent upon everyone from my family to colleagues when tying my neck ties, and while everyone’s been so gracious whenever I’ve needed help, it’s frustrated me till no end that I’ve gone two decades now without being able to button my shirts’ top button and tie my own neck ties. If I could only tie my own neck ties, it would make my life far easier, less stressful – and, man, would I look handsome!

But, I never gave up. Every day for the past two decades, you would have seen at least one tie sitting somewhere in my bedroom – no, not because I’m messy, but because, night after night, I refused to ever stop trying to tie my own neck tie. Still, after thousands of attempts – and trying every method, tool, and trick one could imagine – the result was always the same: I still couldn’t button my own button, or tie my own tie.

Now, I’m sure that some people wouldn’t think twice about being unable to tie a tie – after all, in the grand scheme of life, who cares, right? But, to me, tying my own tie was about more than a tie. My tying a tie was about perseverance and dedication, where I wasn’t going to let two decades of seeming failure stop me from trying today, tomorrow, and the next day – or, for the rest of my life if I had to. I wasn’t on a 90-day plan, I was on a 90-year plan – and I was fully prepared to go into old age and literally die trying to tie my own tie!

What’s more, my belief in remaining constant to my goal was strengthened when every year or so, I got a little closer to buttoning that top button before it slipped away, and when I got to where I could almost put the tie through itself after wrapping it. Every night of my monkeying with a tie would have seemed pointless and futile to most; however, to me, it was incremental progress – like applying a dollar toward a six-figure mortgage, it still counts, even when it doesn’t seem like much.

Several months ago, after two decades of trying, I nailed it – I honed the process where I could both button my top button and tie my own tie. In fact, I did so right before a big business trip and convention, and I was so excited that I could tie my own neck ties, that I packed eight ties for a four-day trip, wearing a tie around the clock, even changing them from day to dinner. My colleagues made fun of me, stating, “Mark, don’t you go anywhere without a tie on?”

I thought to myself, Man, I’ve spent 20 years learning to tie a tie – I’m making up for lost time!

Indeed, maybe one of your dreams is as lofty as Nola’s, like wishing to move out of a care facility. Or, maybe one of your dreams is as seemingly trivial as mine, like being able to tie your own neck tie. Or, maybe one of your dreams is to have complete control over your finances, like paying off your mortgage. Big or small, monumental or trivial, all dreams and goals are accomplished the same way: With daily consistency and perseverance, where we recognize that no matter if it takes us 90 minutes, 90 days, or, 90 years, we’re willing to apply effort every day toward living to our fullest – regardless of any pain, hardship, and frustration. That is, let us recognize that consistency is the magic key, where the dedicated efforts that we make every single day build the foundation for great success in the long term.

Between 20 and 38

By Mark E. Smith

I recently received an email from an ex-girlfriend – after 18 years. She found me on the Internet, and expressed in her email that she was surprised by how well I have done in life. In fact, she went as far as noting that she was worried about the future for me when we were 20.

I was baffled by her comments that expressed seeming surprise at my life’s course over the past 18 years. After all, between the ages of 20 and 38, people’s lives change enormously – we go to college, build careers, have relationships, and raise families. It’s what most people do – and why my ex-girlfriend would be surprised that I did it, too, seemed absurd to me. I wanted to email her back with a sarcasm that she might recall, and ask, “What do you think people do between 20 and 38? …They grow up!”

I shared my ex-girlfriend’s email with my closest confident, Drewy, and explained to him that I couldn’t figure out why she was worried about my future when we were 20, or why she might be surprised by how my life has unfolded to date?

In his wisdom, Drewy spelled it out well for me. “Mark, you’re looking at this too rationally – of course your life evolved like most between the ages of 20 and 38,” he explained. “But, she may simply remember you as a 20-year-old with cerebral palsy, from a ‘bad’ family. She was boxing you in based on where you came from, not seeing your potential. So, if that’s been her perspective for all of these years, of course she’s surprised at your success.”

Putting all of the pieces together and looking back, I’m sure that Drewy’s insight was on target. However, what’s striking is that while my ex-girlfriend apparently projected limitations on me at 20, they clearly didn’t deter me one bit. Again, looking back, I wasn’t totally sure where I was going in life at 20 – were you? – but I knew that I had tremendous potential, and I was just warming up. I reckoned that she dumped me for a lot of good reasons at the time – my sarcasm could have been one of them! – but, I definitely didn’t care that among them was her perception of my lacking potential to succeed in life. Failure wasn’t an option for me – success, as always, just takes time – so her questioning my potential at 20 was a moot point in the grand scheme of my life. The game of life wasn’t over for me at 20 – rather, it was just beginning!

What I’ve learned is that one of the most amazing facts of life for those of us with disabilities is that no one gets a vote toward our potentials but ourselves. Doctors, family, friends, teachers, employers – ex-girlfriends! – can all count us out if they wish, but what does anyone else’s grim predictions or stereotyping truly mean to us?

Nothing. We determine our paths in the end, not other people. It didn’t matter that my ex-girlfriend may have seen me as a guy from a family where no one had graduated high school. Rather, what mattered was that I did graduate high school, then tackled college with a vengeance. It didn’t matter if my ex-girlfriend may have seen me as a guy from a family that was poor and dysfunctional compared to her own. Rather, what mattered was that I dedicated myself to personal growth and a work ethic that would allow me to strive toward building first-generation emotional health and financial security. It didn’t matter if my ex-girlfriend may have seen me as a guy with cerebral palsy and physical limitations. Rather, what mattered was that I was willing to apply a never-say-die attitude toward any of life’s obstacles. And, it didn’t matter if my ex-girlfriend may have counted me out in life at the young age of 20. Rather, what mattered was that I was willing to assume sole responsibility for my life and do whatever it took to make my way in the world, where hopefully my potential would ultimately make a difference in the lives of others.

I suspect that you, too, may have been counted out, as well, at some point, by someone. See, whenever you tackle the odds – whenever you pursue great endeavors, like thriving with disability – others are bound to bet against you, to count you out. Yet, we have a choice of if and how we allow others’ critical outlooks to affect us. Sure, no one wants to be dismissed or criticized; but, whether we assume the negative outlooks projected upon us by others is truly our choice. We can allow others’ projections to defeat us, or we can allow our drive to elevate us.

In my own life, I strive to contribute as much as I can toward my peers with disabilities; I’m a loyal, dedicated, hardworking employee; I strive to be there for my friends at all times; and, I give everything within me to my daughter. And, when I look at my life from that 3,000-foot perspective, criticism of me – people counting me out due to disability – is little more than a momentary distraction. My point is, just because I’m counted out or criticized doesn’t mean that I’m adversely affected by it. Count me out, criticize me, and I just keep rolling on my empowered paths. Speed bumps may catch my attention, but they don’t stop me.

The same outlook should be practiced by all of us. No matter who you are, if you’re on a path toward success, you’ll be counted out or experience criticism at some point, most closely from a dysfunctional family member with careless words, or from a far stranger staring you down in public. And, at those moments, you must remind yourself of who you are, that you are an individual of enormous potential and value – and whether any one person recognizes that fact is truly of no consequence to you whatsoever in the grand scope of your life. It’s the positive contributions in the world around you that you make every day – as well as your future potential – that matter, and any words of criticism that come your way by those not in the know truly end at the lips of the person who spoke them. You are remarkable in your own right, and never allow anyone to convince you otherwise with his or her senseless outlook. Someone may think that they know you at 20, but he or she has no clue of your successes at 38!

It’s also important to look at those who count you out or criticize you as truly serving as an inspiration, a sign that you’re doing everything right, that you are succeeding. If you have a disability and pursue education, employment, or community involvement, you’ll likely encounter rudeness and criticism at some points – and that’s indirectly a great compliment. Again, all people who extend themselves beyond what others may dare are criticized. When I was attending college in San Francisco, I rode the public buses every day, and there was one particular bus driver – old and crusty – who taunted me for two years straight. “You and your wheelchair slow down my route. I don’t know what good college will do a handicapped kid like you, anyway,” he’d mumble every time I boarded his bus via the lift.

Nevertheless, when he let me off at the campus stop each day, I thanked him for the ride – and he just stared at me, begrudgingly. What he didn’t realize was that I was really thanking him for his criticism of me, for his counting me out. See, if I wasn’t on my way to college each day, he couldn’t have criticized me – every rude remark he made simply reminded me, Mark, you’re heading in the right direction again today, on the bus going to college, on a path of success.

If you pursue great endeavors – no matter if you have a disability or you’re the President – you will be counted out and criticized at some point, and you should welcome the hidden congratulations within it, as with the demeaning bus driver unwittingly validating my mission toward education every day.

Of course, we, too, must avoid a critical spirit within ourselves, as it does come back to bite us. If we’re critical of others, it’s usually because we’re frustrated within ourselves – and that never proves successful. After all, it’s a lot easier to avoid our own issues when we’re slinging criticism toward others. If we’re not succeeding, we let ourselves off of the hook by counting others out, as well. Life, I like to say, is like a window: When the world appears dull and gray, it’s often because we haven’t made an effort to clean our own windows. You can’t feel better about other people until you feel better about yourself. And, the reverse holds true – that is, make others feel better about themselves, and your own spirit will be lifted in return. Keeping our own windows clean makes all of the difference.

Sure, it’s a shame when others don’t believe in us – after all, we all have amazing potential, no matter our background or physical abilities. However, the only real shame is when we, ourselves, buy into others counting us out or criticizing us. Fortunately, we have the ability to not only deflect others negatives projections, but we can actually use them as inspiration to remind us how important it is to stay on the path toward our fullest potential.

The next time someone counts you out, count yourself up – as it clearly means that there’s an extraordinary opportunity for success right in front of you. Perceived underdogs prove as the most stunning winners in the end.

As for my ex-girlfriend, she’s doing exceptionally well – complete with a Ph.D., beautiful daughter, amazing husband, and she’s impacting her community in wonderful ways – just as I knew that she would. After all, at 20, she had the same amazing potential toward the future as the rest of us.

Discovered on the Bathroom Floor

By Mark E. Smith

I’ll never forget my embarrassment that day. I was in the sixth grade, and my school sent home another note. It may have been the third or fourth, but this one was more serious, involving the school counselor, not just a teacher’s note. Was I in trouble?

I couldn’t wait to read the note – desperate to know what it said – so on the special wheelchair-accessible school bus on my way home that day, I used one hand and my teeth to tear open the envelope, and read the note. To my horror, the school staff was again complaining to my mother that I smelled of an odor, and that I clearly wasn’t being bathed appropriately, that even other kids were complaining.

And, I knew they were right – I had horrible hygiene. Due to my cerebral palsy, I wasn’t able to toilet or bathe myself, and being dependent on my mother wasn’t cutting it. As an alcoholic, my mother wasn’t taking care of herself, let alone me, so my bathroom accidents and a lack of bathing were par for the course.

What made the note even more troubling to me was that I’d recently visited a care facility and saw teenagers living there with disabilities similar to mine – and I realized that between my cerebral palsy and my mother’s drinking, a care facility might be my own home in the near future. Based on the school’s concerns, it seemed like only a matter of time before Social Services was involved, and if they found out that my mother’s alcoholism prevented her from properly caring for me, I reckoned that I was doomed – possibly to a care facility.

I went to my stepfather for help, and he placed responsibility on me, suggesting that I’d better get my act together as a kid with cerebral palsy and become more independent or I would end up in a care facility. Call his tough love well-meaning or callous, but he simply reinforced my predicament and fears.

So, there I was: Humiliated by my body odor at school, with parents unwilling to take proper care of me, and unable to take care of myself. At 11 years old, I was in the bind of my life, a victim of circumstance.

Yet, that night, I intuitively realized that I wasn’t a victim of circumstance at all, that I was the one truly placing myself in the situation – not my parents, not cerebral palsy, not the school, but me. See, what I quickly realized that night was that I was looking at everyone else to take responsibility, when, in actuality, I was solely responsible for the whole situation.

Now, some might say, Mark, that’s ludicrous. You were a little kid with severe cerebral palsy, in a bad family situation – you were the last one responsible for the predicament that you were in. …You can’t hold an 11-year-old responsible for having cerebral palsy or an alcoholic mother.

Absolutely, I could hold myself responsible – and I had to. No, it wasn’t my fault that I had cerebral palsy or an alcoholic mother, but all of it was solely my responsibility at that instant. I was the one with the body odor, the one who couldn’t bathe himself, the one with the alcoholic mother, the one with the school rightfully concerned – and, there was only one person responsible for resolving the situation: Me.

That night, I did my best to strip off my clothes, pulled my power wheelchair up to the bathtub, and slid myself in, cracking my head on the way down, flopping like a fish, banging elbows and knees off of the sides of the dry tub. With what coordination I had, I turned on the cold water and washed up the best that I could. At last, I used all my might to thrust my body over the side of the bathtub, crashing onto the hard tile floor, bumped and bruised, but a bit cleaner. Maybe this will be easier tomorrow night now that I’ve done it once, I told myself.

As I lay on the bathroom floor that night, starring at the ceiling, nude, cold, beat-up, and exhausted, I believe that I discovered the single most important factor toward living with disability: Our choice to accept full responsibility for our lives no matter what’s happened to us, no matter our current circumstance.

It’s so easy for many of us to justify why our lives aren’t as successful as they could be:

If only I wasn’t born to a dysfunctional family….

If only I didn’t have a disability….

If only things were different….

But, when they’re not different, when life doesn’t go our way, we are solely responsible to take the actions needed to change the course of our lives. We may not create any given tragedy in our life, but we are solely accountable for resolving it, no matter what it takes.

Toward my publically-expressed disability outlooks, the singular criticism that I receive from some with disabilities is that my die-trying approach to living with disability is unrealistic, that just because I, personally, strive to practice extreme will and optimism doesn’t mean that I have the right to expect it from others.

However, where their argument fails, is that they don’t recognize that I don’t practice and teach my own philosophies; rather, I merely practice and discuss the realities of life. See, assuming absolute responsibility for one’s disability isn’t what I expect; rather, assuming absolute responsibility for one’s disability is what successful living demands. Again, we can find entirely valid reasons as to why we’re not living up to our fullest potential, as with my being an 11-year-old child with cerebral palsy and an alcoholic mother, unable to bathe myself. However, until we make the choice to push all of those reasons to the side and assume absolute, sole accountability for our lives, we merely exist and struggle in life – that is, we make excuses and don’t move forward. To put it bluntly, it doesn’t matter who made the mess; we are solely responsible to clean it up.

Maybe life hasn’t gone your way. Maybe it’s knocked you down, then kicked you for falling. Maybe you’ve not only faced profound disability, but any number of other trials, from unemployment to failed relationships to addiction. So what? The solution to any issues in your life, regardless of the breath of the challenge, simply starts with a single question: Are you willing to assume sole responsibility for it, and do whatever it takes to move forward, at any cost? After all, it’s the same question that life has demanded that I personally answer countless times since I lay nude, cold, beat-up, and exhausted on that bathroom floor.

The Factor of G

By Mark E. Smith

Here’s a provocative question for you: How is it possible that one with a severe disability excels well beyond his or her peers, including those without disabilities?

For example, how does one explain a college student with severe cerebral palsy, who can’t speak or write on his or her own, graduating college, magna cum laude? Or, how does one explain a quadriplegic who rises through the ranks of the banking world to become a vice president? Or, how does one explain how one born without arms goes on to become a world-renown musician?

Truly, if you think about it, we all know of people with severe disabilities who have excelled beyond their peers with and without disabilities – but, how is that possible? After all, those of us with disabilities aren’t inherently smarter than others, and, in fact, we obviously have notable physical disadvantages over others without disabilities – for example, imagine how difficult it would be going through college without the ability to speak or write. And, statistically, those of us with disabilities can have social disadvantages over others in the mainstream, where prejudice and discrimination remain. Therefore, how is it logically possible that without any seeming advantages – and, arguably, having physical and social disadvantages – those with severe disabilities can often excel beyond their peers with and without disabilities?

This question intrigued me as I thought about my own acquaintances over the years who’ve had severe disabilities but excelled beyond most others – and I wondered if there was a common trait that they shared, a trait that many others may not practice, that’s all but guaranteed their success?

As I went back and analyzed the character traits of my successful acquaintances and peers with disabilities, I saw a clear trend toward their all sharing overall outlooks of dedication, perseverance, and optimism; however, they all shared a far greater form of everyday empowerment than most: Gratitude.

Indeed, my most successful acquaintances and peers with disabilities have all demonstrated unyielding gratitude for what life has to offer, fully embracing every opportunity with optimism and zeal, appreciative of every occasion – that is, they’re excited and grateful to wake up in the morning and tackle the tasks of the day.

Where this realization becomes clearer is when we consider “mainstream” culture, and what little gratitude many have – and, specifically, how it holds people back:

A college education is a true blessing, an amazing opportunity that very few on this planet get to pursue; yet, a 19-year-old will fail college because he simply doesn’t want to wake up early enough to get to class on time. He has no gratitude toward education.

A bank teller will begrudgingly perform her job, doing as little as possible, resentful that she only makes $9 per hour, feeling like it’s not worth her time to come to work, believing that she’s entitled to better. She has no gratitude for employment.

A 20-something will show up in Hollywood with a guitar, thinking that he’s going to get gigs because he’s the next big rock star, then gives up when doors shut on him. He has no gratitude toward success.

In your own life, think about all of the complaints of “entitlement” that you may hear from those around you every day. Three-quarters of your co-workers likely complain about their jobs all day; your kids likely want the iPod Touch because the iPod Nano of last season isn’t cool anymore; and, all your neighbor probably does is whine about gas prices and the economy, no matter if they’re up or down. There’s simply little gratitude wherever we look, where many who we encounter feel “entitled” to all in life, regardless of their own efforts and attitude.

However, what I’ve witnessed is that when those with disabilities – or anyone – possess a sincere sense of gratitude, their lives accelerate like rockets, well beyond others in most cases:.

The young woman with cerebral palsy, who can’t speak or write, but is entirely grateful for the shot at a college education, as everyone should be, of course puts her all into it, and graduates magna cum laude.

The gentleman with quadriplegia, who’s genuinely grateful to have an entry-level position at a bank, as anyone should be, of course puts his all into his job and gets promoted up the ladder to vice president.

And, the man born without arms, who teaches himself to play the guitar with his feet, entirely grateful that he can make music, as everyone should be, of course pours his heart into it, and becomes a huge success.

See, when we’re grateful for what we have on all levels – when we know that we’re fortunate, not entitled – it motivates us to live up to our fullest abilities, where opportunities are recognized before limitations, potentials before excuses. Those who are grateful don’t mope, they thrive.

Interestingly, an overwhelming lack of gratitude is what holds back a lot of people with disabilities. Sure, it may seem understandable for an athletic 40-year-old who was paralyzed in a car accident to look around and say, “What’s there to be grateful for? I can’t walk, and I can’t do half of the things I used to…. My life is a cruel nightmare.”

While some may see such thinking as understandable, it’s entirely self defeating. The lack of any gratitude in such a situation will keep one entrenched in bitterness and excuses, never moving forward in life.

To the contrary, in such a situation, those with disabilities who are successful – that is, those with gratitude in life – have an entirely opposite view: I may be paralyzed, but I’m thrilled to be alive, blessed to have my wife and kids by my side, and although it may not be easy, I’m fortunate that I have my education to help me succeed in the workforce….

And, you can bet that when such an individual is in the workforce, the passion and dedication that he puts into his job – that is, gratitude – takes him to the top.

Of course, gratitude isn’t a tool that only those with disabilities can possess – those who don’t have a disability can possess gratitude, as well, and it brings the same success. However, what I’ve witnessed is that severe, permanent disability can heighten one’s sense of gratitude beyond a common perspective. Again, when one faces loss, he or she can become either bitter at what’s lost, or grateful for what remains – and when we’re truly grateful for what remains, we naturally use what we have to the fullest, making the most of ourselves, propelling toward successes that others may never achieve. Put simply, when disability shows us how challenging life can be at times, it’s often easier to appreciate the oppertunities that we have, and use them to the fullest. A motivated man can dig a deeper trench with his bare hands than three lazy men with shovels.

As one with a disability, I practice gratitude everyday, no matter the circumstance. It takes me hours of struggle to get ready each morning, but I’ve always been grateful for it – that is, firstly, I’m forever grateful that I was able to develop the ability to bathe and dress myself, and, secondly, I’m grateful that I’ve always had the opportunity to pursue an endeavor each day, from my education in the past, to my career in the present.

When my colleagues and customers need my assistance, I don’t regret the long hours or resent more work; rather, I’m truly grateful for the privilege to serve others.

When, I’m traveling on business, and my flight’s delayed, I don’t get upset like others in the airport; rather, I’m grateful to be traveling on business in the first place.

And, when I look at my daughter, she is, of course, my foremost blessing of all, where even if I lost all of my physical abilities, my career, and my worldly possessions at once, I’d still feel like the most fortunate person, simply grateful to have her in my life.

Sure, others sometimes look at me and my cerebral palsy, and only see what’s seemingly wrong in my life – my wheelchair, my wracked body, my slurred speech. But, they don’t know how grateful I am that my wheelchair, my wracked body, my slurred speech, has gotten me so far in life – that is, they don’t recognize what I recognize: The astonishing potentials placed before each of us every day, even in the seemingly toughest circumstances.

Now, some might say, “Mark, gratitude toward everyday life is little more than a lowering of expectations, a denial of accepting how terrible life can be, including living with disability. No normal person is grateful for a life involving pain, hardship, and struggle.”

And, they’d be right – for a bitter, jaded, unappreciative, stagnant person, that is. See, there’s a truth to gratitude that such people don’t understand, that without gratitude we only see the worst in life, our limitations, what we don’t have, what we seemingly can’t accomplish: I can’t walk, and it has taken more from me than you could ever imagine. And, such thinking gets us nowhere but deeper into a self-absorbed, depressed, bitter rut.

However, when we have gratitude, it inspires our outlooks and clears a path of seemingly unlimited possibilities: I can’t walk, but this wonderful wheelchair allows me to have a career, raise my family, and have the freedom to take on the world. Gratitude, you see, makes all the difference, inherently allowing us to see paths of potential over bottlenecks of bitterness.

Whether you’re of the richest and the healthiest, or of the poorest and the sickest, there’s always something to be grateful for – namely, life, itself – and when we simply live with a sincere gratitude for the potentials that we have, no matter our circumstance, it’s impossible not to have an optimism and motivation that will propel us to successes that others could never even dream.

Where You Look

By Mark E. Smith

We call my friend, George, “MacGyver,” nicknamed after the television show, because he can make anything mechanical work within very little time, even when presented with limited resources. When I watch George work, his process is fascinating in that when he encounters an obstacle, he’ll often step back, assess the situation, think for a moment, then get right back to work, embarking on Plan B. What I’ve witnessed is that the way George works is that he only focuses on the resources that he has, and he fully utilizes them till he makes a task work. In situations where others would get frustrated, make excuses, or give up, George simply uses what he has to get the job done.

Whether George realizes it, his problem-solving process proves that he knows a fundamental to successful living: If we worry less about what we don’t have, and focus on fully utilizing what we do have, we succeed beyond expectations. This principle is especially important for those of us with disabilities, where we need not worry about what we don’t have, but focus on what we do have, making the most of our circumstances, disability and all.

I suppose that some might look at my having cerebral palsy, and immediately project a list a mile long of what I can’t do – you name them, from as obvious as my not being able to walk to as obscure as my inability to play a guitar, all in a list of thousands long. And, they’re right – there are likely thousands of activities and tasks that I can’t physically accomplish due to my disability. However, what such people don’t realize is that, despite my clear limitations, I’m still equipped with far more potentials than I ever need to succeed – just as we all are. Again, it’s not what we don’t have that matters; rather, it’s what we do have that counts.

I can’t walk, but wheelchairs have allowed me to graduate schools, maintain a rewarding career, and raise a family.

I don’t have the dexterity to write with a pen, but my ability to type with a single finger has allowed me to author a host of books, write countless articles, and run a leading web site.

My speech isn’t perfect, affected by my disability, but it has allowed me to reach thousands upon thousands on stages across this land.

Maybe I don’t have all of the physical abilities that others have, but I don’t need them – I have precisely the potentials that I need, and by simply utilizing what I have to the fullest, it allows me to succeed to a tremendous degree every day.

Among the traps of disability experience is when one becomes stuck in a cycle of dwelling on what one can’t do, what one doesn’t have, or what one has lost:

If only I could walk….

If only I wasn’t ill….

If only I had the abilities that I used to have….

However, such thinking gets one nowhere but in a rut of depression, complacency, and denial. Such thinking really keeps one in a mode of excuses, shunning accountability, defeating one’s potentials for success. When one only focuses on what one doesn’t have, one is really looking for permission not to do anything with one’s life – one is taking the easy way out.

A friend of mine is presently dissatisfied with his job, and when I inquired if he had his resume’ out on the market, he said, no. “It’s among the worst job markets in the history of the U.S., unemployment pushing 10%,” he explained. “Why would I go look for a better job now?”

“…Because millions of people probably share your negative outlook toward the job market,” I said. “Everyone’s so focused on the lack of opportunity and the bad economy that many aren’t even bothering to look for better jobs. If you’re the one guy who ignores the mass negativity of job loss numbers, and focus on the opportunities that are out there, I bet you’ll be amazed at the opportunities you’ll find. Don’t worry about what jobs aren’t available, focus on the ones that are.”

This same approach applies to disability experience. If we focus on all that we don’t have – that is, the limitations in our lives – we’re not focusing on the potentials that we do have, which is a mind set that holds us back with greater force than any physical limitations. Again, whether you’re like Lance Armstrong, able-bodied to seemingly super-human strength, racing for an 8th Tour de France title, or Ed Roberts, paralyzed from the neck down by polio, but went on to found the independent living movement and serve as a government official, you have all that you need to succeed – you need merely to recognize your strengths and potentials, and harness them.

Lincoln, in the Gettysburg Address, proclaimed that all men are created equal. And, despite his intent of legal and social equality for all, I believe that he stopped short of a far greater meaning: We all have an equal opportunity to reach within ourselves and live up to our fullest potentials, whatever they may be. Let us not focus on or regret what we don’t have; rather, let us recognize the amazing potentials and gifts in our lives, then strive to utilize them to the fullest – with tenacity and perseverance – toward success. Put simply, we’re all equipped with what we need to succeed on our individual paths – we just need to acknowledge our good fortunes and put them to greater use. We need to look toward the positives in our lives as conduits for success, not dwell on the negatives. What we don’t have in the way of physical abilities is far less consequential in the grand scheme of our lives than many realize; rather, it’s our present abilities and potentials that make all of the difference in our lives. If we can’t run, walk; if we can’t walk, let us use a wheelchair – and what we’ll find is that getting to our dream destinations remains entirely possible, just a different mode than some others use. That is, we always remain equipped for success – we merely need to use all that we have to pursue it.

No, I can’t walk, my speech isn’t perfectly clear, nor can I physically perform countless tasks. Yet, it hasn’t hampered my successes or quality of life. Why not, some may wonder? …Because I always know where to look for solutions: My equipped potentials.

Facing Flat Tires

By Mark E. Smith

Within one week, I received two flat tires on my wheelchair during my morning treks by sidewalk to work. Wanting to know where I was suddenly getting flat tires in the morning, I traced my route, discovering that a home that I passed by each morning had recently underwent renovation, and the sidewalk in front of it remained littered with nails and staples. I immediately avoided that part of my route, resulting in no more flat tires.

A few weeks passed, and while distracted by thoughts of my busy day ahead, on the way to work I fell back onto my old sidewalk route, and mistakenly rolled right in front of that recently-renovated house – and, by the time I got to work, I had yet another flat tire.

I’ve since avoided that house most days, but because it’s on the route I’ve taken for years, I’ll occasionally catch myself heading toward it. However, when I’m on my game, paying attention, I’m aware to change my course, avoiding that house – and flat tires.

Disability experience – which is truly rooted in human experience – is a tricky course, as well. And, if we’re going to succeed at living with disability, it takes exceptional tenacity, discipline, and perseverance – we must pay attention to where we’re heading. After all, with social stigmas remaining, and social-economic realities that place us at statistical disadvantages ranging from education to employment to relationships, we must play our A-game in order to compete with the mainstream.

However, what succeeding at disability experience – make that, human experience – doesn’t require is perfection. And, the sooner we realize that, the faster we can get on our courses to success.

When it comes to how others generally view us as those with disabilities, we fall into two stereotyped camps: Helpless or super-human. If you merely consider news stories regarding those with disabilities, they’re truly at the two extremes, rarely in the middle, where we’re either portrayed as helpless victims or inspiring heroes. And, in many ways, being seen as inspiring heroes – not just in the media, but in our families, workplaces, and communities – is a flattering but daunting image to live up to. Yet, we can live up to it – that is, as long as we acknowledge within ourselves that we’re not perfect, that we occasionally stray off course, as everyone does; but, we’re just as capable to get right back on track, regaining healthy perspectives, and living to our fullest potentials when we strive and pay attention. In plain terms, we may get flat tires from time to time, but when we’re aware, we can very effectively strive to avoid them as we move forward.

No one can deny that disability experience is extremely complex, even for those who have mastered it. As I experience in my own life, the range of daily emotions can be vast, from feeling in complete command of my profession at work to feeling demeaned on some level by a stranger in the world at large who may write me off as inept upon mere sight of my wheelchair. Sure, I’ve learned to live with a heightened awareness, understanding, and patience – I don’t personally flip-out when I encounter circumstances involving ignorance. However, I’m not perfect, and I’m still effected by the emotions of living with disability like everyone else – that is, I remain vulnerable to the diverse effects of human experience, even insecurities. I can find myself having bad moments directly or indirectly relating to disability – where vulnerabilities and insecurities creep up – temporarily deflating me like a flat tire on my wheelchair. And, it’s normal for everyone to experience moments of frustration, weakness, vulnerability, insecurity, or a myriad of other emotions as we go through life, disability or not.

During these moments, we can likewise make regretful mistakes, from lashing out at a person who simply offers to open a door, offended that someone has inadvertently acknowledged our disability, to resenting able-bodied siblings whose lives on two legs appear perfect – all based on our vulnerabilities and insecurities relating to disability experience. In fact, in my own life, I know that as secure and outgoing as I am, a few drinks in me on a Saturday night at a social event cancels out my cerebral palsy, makes me ten years younger, and magically gives me the eloquence of James Bond – at least in my one-too-many-drinks mind. Yet, as fun as such let-loose nights could be, I recognize that some of my behavior in these situations in the past has been based on my own vulnerabilities and insecurities as one with a disability, and as a man, in general – that is, “a drink” squelched some of my own social insecurities. In this way, I understand that I’m not perfect as one with a disability or as a man – vulnerabilities and insecurities find their way to the surface from time to time. Yet, what I’ve come to recognize is a far more valuable lesson: I need to consistently strive to be truer to my potential in such moments, and I need to remind myself that while I have vulnerabilities and insecurities, I can also control them, and harness them to hopefully become a better person, more adept at living as a whole, disability and beyond. I don’t need a drink to charm the pants off of a crowd – I just need to muster the courage to acknowledge my insecurities, and then apply the willpower needed to push forward regardless of them. One might say that when it comes to living with disability, and as a person of true character, it’s an ongoing process of learning to recognize and avoid the areas in our lives that can cause flat tires.

A friend of mine, with a life-long disability, has worked since he graduated college at 22, maintaining an amazing work ethic of 12- to 14-hour days. Now approaching 50, his body isn’t as forgiving as it once was – his condition has wracked his skeletal system to where, by the end of the work day, he’s in tremendous pain, unable to really enjoy his home life.

My friend’s family has suggested that he slow down, cut back his hours at work, or maybe even retire. But, my friend won’t hear of it, he won’t admit any vulnerability – he’s overcome every other challenge in his life, and he won’t give into this one.

However, the real notion that he won’t give into is that he’s human, with vulnerabilities and insecurities just like the rest of us. “You’re super. And you’re human. But, you’re not super-human,” I told him. “None of us are. So, get real about your vulnerabilities, including relating to your health, and address them responsibly. If that means dialing back your career for the sake of your health and family, it’s the honest move to make.”

As one with a disability striving toward success, you’re going to find yourself in vulnerable, insecure moments, where you may feel defeated or regretful. And, it’s normal. However, the key is to not allow these moments to derail you in the long-term, but to acknowledge the situation and emotions, and move forward in positive directions as one who’s not perfect, but is trying to live up to your sincerest potentials:

Mark, I’m nervous and scared about this job interview – how are they going to react to my using a wheelchair? You’re right to be scared and nervous, just like every other candidate, and you have disability on top of it. However, remember, you’ve gotten through other job interviews before, and your resume’ and education are impressive. Acknowledge your anxieties, remind yourself that they’re normal, and move through the interview with increasing comfort as you go.

Mark, I want to ask this special someone out on a date, but I’m too scared about my whole being-in-a-wheelchair thing…. Fear of rejection is among the most common insecurities everyone has – and it prevents many people from asking others on dates, regardless of disability. Recognize that your apprehension is normal – the person you wish to ask out has likely experienced, too! – then be bold and ask the person out. If you get turned down, it’s no big deal – we’ve all been there. But, you’ll never get a date unless you acknowledge any fear of rejection, and move forward despite it.

Mark, I feel so awkward at events as the only one with a disability, so I have a few drinks to break the ice, but end up drunk and stupid…. Again, almost everyone feels awkward and uncomfortable in such social situations. We’re by nature social creatures, and want to fit in, so a foremost fear is feeling like an outsider in a crowd – and disability can magnify that experience, where we can perceive ourselves as “sticking out” even more. It’s natural to feel awkward and out of place, but it’s certainly not normal to drink to excess. And, what I’ve learned is that if I can fit in after a few drinks, I can fit in even better totally sober, with my wit and personality in full clarity – and the same holds true for you. When you roll in the door, know that you’re not the only one nervous about being there, and move forward with a confident smile. Then, you’ll find that others will gravitate toward you, turning your self-acknowledged insecurities into an asset.

My point is, we all have vulnerabilities and insecurities – which disability can magnify – but they’re really just universal to human experience. However, when we’re honest with ourselves and admit them, then we can address them in healthy ways, moving forward with a self-candor that empowers our lives.

No, we’re not perfect – we all have vulnerabilities and insecurities. Yet, let us not forget that even when our vulnerabilities and insecurities creep up on us – sometimes resulting in frustrations, regrets, and mistakes – we still are capable of striving toward our fullest potential by addressing our natural, understandable emotions in healthy ways. I say that while none of us can live perfectly, each of us surely can strive to live capably.

Sometimes, Just Roll On

By Mark E. Smith

Years ago, I taught a semester-long course at a community college, focusing on overall study skills for struggling students. During the test-taking strategies portion of my class, I discussed the importance of not getting hung up on questions to which you don’t know the answer; rather, you should keep moving on through the test, answering the questions that you do know, so that you don’t run out of time due to wracking your brain on lost causes. Put simply, don’t throw away easily-answered questions because you get hung up on questions that you can’t answer, wasting valuable time.

This same principle holds true when it comes toward addressing others who demonstrate ignorance or bigotry toward disability. Let us not focus on trying to educate others who obviously will never accept those of us with disabilities. Rather, let us focus on those who may not initially understand disability, but demonstrate a willingness to learn, grow, and accept others on common ground, using our efforts and time wisely to bring positive, effective change.

I recently received an email from a higher-up in the mobility industry. The email expressed the individual’s assessment of wheelchair users as a whole, from the individual’s view as an able-bodied person working in the wheelchair industry. No, the individual didn’t send it to me, personally, and for good reason: This person’s views expressed in the email conveyed little more than bigoted contempt for consumers who use wheelchairs – it was belittling and dehumanizing toward those with disabilities.

Of course, as email works, this email found its way to me through several forwards, landing in my email box, both because the original subject, a consumer issue, related to my industry roles, and also because others in the email chain clearly had a conscience, implying, Mark, can you believe this person not only thinks this, but actually emailed it!

So, I had this email on my screen, from an industry person belittling those with disabilities, where I rightfully felt anger as a consumer advocate, embarrassment as an industry leader, and hurt as one with a disability – but, what was I to do with the email, and how should I respond?

To their credit, others in the email chain had already replied to the person, subtly hinting to the individual that the condemnation of those with disabilities was off-base. However, the situation surely warranted far stronger action – the person logically needed to be escorted to the door of the mobility industry. After all, if one believes that those with disabilities are beneath oneself, belittling and mocking them in a “professional” email, one has no place in the mobility industry.

For a moment, I debated forwarding the email to the person’s boss, someone of great integrity, who I trust would be mortified that an employee was emailing such belligerence, not just toward those with disabilities, but toward their company’s literal customers, all in one malicious swoop.

But, I didn’t forward the email to the person’s boss, nor did I reply with spite or a lecture. I simply replied toward the consumer issue that apparently triggered the person’s bigoted email, and I addressed that topic professionally and calmly, glossing over the individual’s belligerence toward those of us with disabilities.

So, why didn’t I pursue any type of “corrective action” toward the person who sent such a disturbing email belittling those with disabilities? Why did I just let it seemingly slide?

Because, as one with a disability, I know better than to waste my time on those who clearly demonstrate a lack of capacity toward accepting others of diversity. I knew in the instance of that email that my larger efforts for the day were best served by taking a deep breath, recognizing the futility of the situation, and getting back to work in the areas of my profession where I could make a difference. In blunt terms, I had a lot of work to do that day, and I would serve no one by wasting my time admonishing a person who demonstrates no capacity for rational thought or acceptance of others.

The fact is, that person’s disdain toward those with disabilities was made explicitly clear in the email – and seeing that the person is older, having worked in the mobility industry for some time, I recognized that no one was going to change that person’s attitude. Sure, we can reach out others who simply aren’t familiar with those with disabilities, and help them see that there’s no difference between those with or without disability. However, when someone works in the mobility industry, then degrades those with disabilities behind what one thinks are closed doors, no one’s changing that arrogant, belligerent person’s attitude, ever.

Now, you maybe thinking, But, Mark, you can’t just let someone like that continue on with such hurtful behavior.

Actually, I’m more than glad to let people of no seeming redemption continue on with wherever life leads them. Again, we can’t waste our time and effort on lost causes. Sure, I could get myself all riled up, focus all my might toward “showing that person.” Yet, it would have no effect on that person in the end, but would consume my time and detract from my own life. Look at it this way, even if the person who wrote the email was fired, it wouldn’t change the person’s bigoted view one bit toward those of us with disabilities, so what truly would come from my – or anyone’s – raising a fuss?

The answer is, nothing. Yes, it might force the person out of the mobility industry, but it wouldn’t change the person’s attitude toward those with disabilities – and, it’s the changing of an attitude for the better that’s the goal. Therefore, if you can’t create true change in someone of seeming ignorance, don’t waste your time. See, our mission has to be to make a positive difference in others’ lives, and if we waste our time hassling those who demonstrate no willingness to learn or change, we miss out on more productive opportunities.

I should note that one must not confuse dismissing unchangeable personal ignorance with systemic civil rights issues. Surely, we must assume a reactive position upon blatant discrimination – the larger stakes of social equality are too consequential toward all with disabilities in our society to just let slide. However, it’s important to recognizes the clear difference between social injustice and a single individual’s belligerence, where a social injustice effects many, but a single person’s ignorance in most cases doesn’t truly have the power to effect anyone. After all, many people act poorly on a daily basis, but it’s of no consequence to the world at large – that is, a driver honking his horn in traffic might tick someone off in that instant, but it’s of no universal consequence, so we just let it go without a second thought. And, the same holds true when it comes to individuals expressing ignorance or bigotry toward those of us with disabilities – their attitudes are of no final consequence in the world at large, so we shouldn’t concern ourselves with them as individuals or take it personally. Let small-minded people live in their small world while you thrive on your path of success and greatness in the world at large.

For those of us with disabilities, we need to have very deliberate discretion toward how we address ignorance, bigotry, and discrimination by others. We must not waste our energy, emotions, and time on those incapable of understanding – that is, you can’t change or educate someone who clearly demonstrates a lack of capacity, and if you constantly try, you’re wasting the fruits of your own life. If you have a disability, you will occasionally meet people unwilling to accept you. And, when you encounter such circumstances, don’t take it personally or emotionally invest in it – just let it go, and move forward on a positive course.

On the other hand, there are many people who we encounter every day, who simply have never really interacted with someone who has a disability – from bank tellers to children to colleagues – and we should make every effort to reach out to them, demonstrating with our own kindness and patience that those with disabilities are just people, after all. And, they will learn, grow, and reciprocate because of it, where they, too, will make the world a more accepting place for all.

No, not everyone accepts those with disabilities – and it’s important that we recognize that fact. When we encounter profoundly incorrigible bigotry by an individual, let us not get bogged down or dwell, but let us simply move on with our lives toward positive directions. After all, there are many others who may not be familiar with disability, but show a willingness to open up, grow, and accept others, and that’s when we should stop in our tracks and engage the situation toward the positive.

Here’s the golden rule of addressing those of seeming ignorance toward disability: Disregard the hopeless, focus on the hopeful, and your efforts will have the greatest impact.