Finding My Writing Voice: A Journey Beyond Disability

The Unspoken Rules of Writing with a Disability

For years, I foolishly believed my battle with cerebral palsy defined the boundaries of what I could say, how I could say it, or where. When I first started this blogging adventure, it felt like the “undefined” part of this blog name was a lie. The more I posted, the more I felt like I was filling this page with a tragedy narrative cloaked in what I thought would be inspiring. Though I wouldn’t allow myself to admit it at the time, I was looking for someone else’s idea of what my writing voice should be rather than finding it on my own. Though it was technically sound, it felt hollow. It didn’t feel like I actually wrote it, almost like a house with no one living in it. I spent months—and sometimes longer—crafting pieces that my disability-imposed imposter syndrome would not allow me to publish. By the time I published it, it felt scrubbed clean of anything that might make a reader uncomfortable or make them feel like I’m feeling sorry for myself on the page. Eventually, though, I found my voice, and I’m going to share a portion of that journey with you today.

Beyond the Expected Narratives

Though it seems to change as time goes on, there was a time when people with disabilities—not just writers—were expected to fit into one of three predictable molds. Either we’re supposed to be perpetually overcoming, eternally grateful, or tragically inspiring. I’ve always been grateful for the opportunity I have to share my stories. I’m grateful to have been able to work all my life, and I’ve overcome a lot to get to where I am. But my life is much more complex than that and doesn’t fit into neat storylines. There are days where I feel invincible, like I can do anything. The unfortunate reality that “anything” includes a lot less than my pride would like to admit hits hard on other days. Sometimes, my disability is a central—and unfortunately defining—part of my day. On these days, I have trouble bending over to pick something up or putting socks on. Other days, however, it’s an afterthought, only crossing my mind when somebody makes an off remark about it, which doesn’t bother me as much as you might think. My voice emerged when I allowed myself to, for lack of a better term, be myself on paper. I realized the raw and real parts of my life, with all the messy, complex, and beautifully flawed human parts, was exactly what I needed to be writing about. It took writing on a different platform for almost a year, but I eventually found my authentic voice.

The shift didn’t happen overnight, but I eventually found the voice I was searching for all this time. Inspired by one of my favorite YouTube creators, Joe Van Cleave, I started writing on Blogger at the start of 2025. A fresh start on a new platform gave me the freedom to write what I wanted without fear of judgment until I was able to carve out a niche. What resulted was a combination of writing craft and mental health articles that drew more views than I expected. I didn’t even know about my passion for mental health advocacy until I started writing these articles. As much as the word gets thrown around among writers, I’ll venture to say writing that content was cathartic for me. I felt as if I was releasing my own pent up emotions while hopefully helping someone else discover and process theirs at the same time. Without even trying, I discovered what I wanted to do with this blog from the beginning. With the effortless writing I knew I was capable of, I found my voice and the confidence to let people hear it.  

The Liberation of Complexity  

The moment I found my voice was the moment I stopped leaning on my disability, doing exactly what I wanted to avoid when I started. I started writing on a different platform, a blog I will link here, to reinvent my writer’s persona, show people who I really am beyond my circumstances. Though it wasn’t my intention to begin with, I slowly carved out a niche writing about writing craft, mental health, and how those two things related to each other. It was here that the barriers—ones I didn’t believe should exist in the first place. As I wrote more and became more comfortable sharing my writing with the world, I realized my disability didn’t define my voice, but nor was it separate. Rather, it’s woven through it, giving me perspective in both obvious and subtle ways. I have insights into creativity, resilience, and finding workarounds for everyday life that have enhanced my writing in ways I never expected. Though it may be slightly hyperbolic to call it a superpower, it is a useful tool. It has given me the natural ability to question things, observe quietly to pick up on things others may miss, and find humor in situations others wouldn’t expect.

Developing Thick Skin 

Full disclosure, if I hadn’t learned to laugh at myself, I would have been in trouble from the beginning. As someone people saw as different, I was subject to all forms of bullying. I’m not too proud to admit that I haven’t always had the thick skin I’m advocating. It took me until recently to admit I harbored anger for the situation I was in. Was I angry at myself? My parents? The universe? To this day, I have no idea. The only thing I know for sure is that I was angry and took it out on people who didn’t deserve it. 

Anger defined my childhood. I think I knew even then that I had an anger problem. What I didn’t know was who I was furious with and why. I would use any small trigger as an excuse to release any pent up anger, no matter who the recipient was or if they deserved the entire outburst. So I guess the thick skin was always there, but I got angry because I felt I had a right to do so, among other reasons.

 I also used anger as a replacement for fear. I always felt the need to appear brave. The problem was, young me had the wrong definition of the word. I put on a tough front hoping to stem the tide of bullying. What I did instead was lose my way, It took far longer than I care to admit to find it again. I only now hope to never lose my voice again. It’s always important to remember where you come from, however. The anger in my past, something I initially avoided, is something I now lean into as a form of cathartic release. 

Growing up, I was lost. I knew I wanted to write, but in the late 90s and early 2000s pre-teen and teenage me did not know what to do with that desire. I journaled a bit, which caught my dad’s attention, but I was too young to know how to do it the right way. I still had pent up feelings I didn’t know what to do with, and when they came out, it happened as anger and led to some regrettable actions on my part, some of which still haunt me to this day.

I’ve been a bookworm my whole life. I had a bookshelf full of Hardy Boys mysteries as a kid, along with almost all of R. L. Stine’s Goosebumps books that were out at the time. Much to my siblings’ dismay, I spent a lot of nights awake and reading, blissfully unaware of the implications of the insomniac I would become. The transition between reading and writing was seamless. I took what I read and applied it to what I wrote. The older I got, the more I loved it. The issue was I had no idea how to channel my anger into words at this time. I took the “actions speak louder than words” adage a little too literally, especially on a few specific occasions.

My siblings have always been closer to each other than they are to me. Knowing what I know now, I take the blame for that. I didn’t know it then, but I was emotionally closed off, incapable of the unconditional love it takes to be close to your family. Unfortunately, this is something I still struggle with to this day along with periodic bouts of anger. I remember one time I took my anger out on my sister and almost broke her wrist—-at least that’s what I remember, there could be some hyperbole there. My anger also cost my family a dining chair that had been in the family for I think four generations. Looking back, I feel like if I’d been mature enough to channel that anger into words as I do now, I would have found my writing voice much sooner. Better late than never, I suppose. Moral of the story, always try to channel your negative emotions into something good. That’s usually when you find your calling.  

Finding Your Own Voice

If you are a writer or creative soul with a disability, here is something I wish I’d learned long ago. I encourage you to share inspirational stories, but your story does not have to be inspirational to be valuable. You’re allowed to be brilliant, funny, angry, or confused. I have experienced all of those emotions in one paragraph more than once. It took me a long time to realize this for myself, but the world needs your voice exactly as it is. Don’t worry about what others think it should be. When you write—this applies to any creative endeavor—-don’t ask yourself what people expect to see or hear from you. Instead, ask yourself what you have to say and how you’d like to share it with the world.

Are you a writer, artist, or creator? How did you find your voice? Leave me your thoughts in the comment section or contact me via the contact form on my website. I’d love to hear from you.