u/Micah_1993

I wrote a heartfelt letter to my father, Expressing how I'm really feeling. Can I get some feedback. I'm afraid im going to be blamed or have the tables turned on me.

Dad,

I hope this letter reaches you safely and that you'll read it with an open mind. I want you to know from the beginning that I'm not writing this out of anger or to place blame on anyone. I'm writing because I want you to understand what my everyday life has been like from my perspective.

My break from college was from last Saturday until today. During that entire week, I did nothing but sit in my apartment. Once in a while, that's perfectly fine, but it's starting to become my everyday life.

The only place I can really go on my own is Wanie's house, where I end up just sitting there too. The problem isn't Wanie's—it's that that's my only option. I don't have the transportation or the resources to get five or ten miles away, explore somewhere different, meet people, or even spend a day doing something outside of this small area. I also don't really know anyone my age who can just come pick me up so we can hang out, go do something, or socialize. Because of that, I'm mostly confined to the same general area every day, with very few opportunities to experience anything different.

My life has become the same cycle every single day: wake up, talk with JoAnn, sit in my apartment, go roll around outside because there's nowhere else to go, maybe go to Wanie's, come back home, go to bed, and wake up to do the exact same thing again.

Now my college semester starts again in a couple of hours, and the cycle begins all over again.

Before I go any further, I want to make something clear: I'm not blaming you, JoAnn, Wanie, or anyone else. I know people have their own lives, responsibilities, and limitations. I'm not writing this to point fingers or make anyone feel guilty. I'm writing it because I want you to understand what my everyday life feels like from my perspective.

I'm grateful to be in college because it's one of the few things that gives me purpose. But it's online, so when I log off for the day, I'm still sitting in the same apartment. I don't get the opportunity to walk around campus, meet classmates, build friendships, or simply be around other people. When class isn't in session, I realize how little of a life I actually have outside of it.

The hardest part is that this doesn't feel temporary. It feels like I've been living this way for most of my life—watching other people go places, build friendships, have experiences, and move forward while I stay in the same routine. I don't want to keep watching life pass me by. I want the opportunity to actually live it.

I hope you can understand that this message isn't about blame—it's about helping you see what life has felt like for me and why I want things to change. I love you, and I hope we can keep talking about this with honesty and understanding.

I'm 33 years old and have cerebral palsy. My CP is physical, not cognitive. I use a wheelchair, live in my own apartment, and have caregiver support.

I'm also adopted and the youngest of seven siblings. My oldest sibling is in her late 50s.

Lately I've been struggling with depression because I feel like I've spent my entire life watching everyone else move forward while I'm standing still.

I watched my brothers and sisters build careers, get married, raise children, buy homes, and create lives of their own. Then I watched my nieces and nephews start doing the same thing.

Meanwhile, I often feel like I've been sitting in the same place, waiting for my life to start.

What makes it harder is that I don't feel limited mentally. My cerebral palsy affects me physically, but I've always believed I was capable of more than the life I've ended up living.

After high school, I felt like many of the major decisions about my future were made for me instead of with me. While my siblings were encouraged to pursue careers, families, and independence, I felt pushed toward a life centered around SSDI and being taken care of. Whether that was the intention or not, that's how it felt from my perspective.

The hardest part is that I know what life felt like when I had hope.

From 2014 to 2020, I lived in Florida. I was attending college, taking flight lessons, making friends, and working toward goals. For the first time in my life, I felt independent. I felt like I was becoming my own person.

Then I moved back to Virginia in 2020.

Since then, I've felt increasingly isolated. Most days it's just me sitting in my apartment. I don't really have a social life. I spend a lot of time watching everyone else live while wondering where I fit in.

Recently, my mom moved back to Texas.

I knew she was moving, so it wasn't a surprise. What hurt was that on the day she left, she didn't stop by, call, or really say goodbye. I found out she had already gone.

When I brought it up afterward, her response was simply, "Oh."

Maybe that sounds like a small thing, but it hit me harder than I expected. It wasn't really about the move itself. It was about feeling like an afterthought.

I've been carrying around this feeling for years—that I'm important when people need something from me, but not important enough to be included in moments that matter.

I've also spent years feeling like I don't fully belong in my own family. Not because I don't love them, and not because they don't love me, but because I've always felt different. I've watched everyone else build lives while I've struggled just to get the opportunity to build one.

Lately I've been trying to change that. I recently enrolled in college again for a cybersecurity degree. I'm trying to create opportunities for myself, build a future, and become more independent.

But honestly, I'm tired.

Tired of feeling invisible.

Tired of watching everyone else move forward while feeling like my own life is standing still.

Tired of wondering where I belong.

Has anyone else ever felt like they spent years watching everyone else live while feeling stuck? If so, how did you find your way forward?

I have Cerebral Palsy, and lately I've been asking myself a question I can't seem to answer:

Was my life controlled because I have CP, because I'm adopted, or because the people around me genuinely believed they knew what was best for me?

Growing up, a lot of major decisions were made without my input.

Surgeries? Not my choice.

Botox injections? Not my choice.

Being placed on SSDI after high school? Not my choice.

Being isolated while my siblings, friends, nieces, and nephews built careers, relationships, families, and lives of their own? Definitely not my choice.

I'm 33 now, and when I look back, I feel like I've spent most of my life being managed instead of being listened to.

The hardest part is that my CP is physical, not cognitive. I've always understood what I wanted out of life, but it often felt like my voice carried less weight than everyone else's opinions about what I should do.

I don't know if anyone else with CP can relate, but sometimes I feel like people confuse care with control.

I've had people tell me they were "doing what's best for me," yet I rarely felt included in the decisions that affected my future.

Being screamed at as a 33-year-old adult, treated like a child, having decisions made for me, and constantly being told what I should do isn't support. It's control.

In fact, I've been thinking about this so much that I recently wrote a podcast episode called "Control ≠ Autonomy." The entire episode is based on the idea that controlling someone's life doesn't automatically mean you're helping them become independent. You can control someone's decisions, schedule, finances, opportunities, and future while convincing yourself it's for their own good. But control and autonomy are not the same thing.

What hurts the most is that this treatment has left me feeling unloved. Not because I expect people to agree with every decision I make, but because being listened to, respected, and included are things I associate with love. When those things are missing, it becomes difficult not to wonder whether people see me as a person with my own dreams and goals, or simply as someone to manage.

That's the part I've been struggling with. Looking back, I can see how much of my life was shaped by other people's decisions while I was expected to simply accept them.

Recently, I started a GoFundMe because I'm trying to build a life with more independence and opportunities. But I haven't even shared it on my social media yet. The reason isn't that I don't believe in my goal—it's that I'm scared.

I have a lot of family on social media, and I'm afraid of being judged, criticized, questioned, or having my decision turned into another argument.

The fact that I'm afraid to share my own goals and dreams publicly feels like a sign that something isn't right. At 33 years old, I don't think I should be this worried about pursuing education, resuming flight school, or trying to establish some sort of life for myself.

Sometimes I wonder if that's one of the lasting effects of being controlled for so long. When you've spent years having your decisions questioned, second-guessed, or made for you, do you eventually start questioning yourself too?

The thing is, I'm not trying to do anything reckless. I'm not asking for a luxury lifestyle. I'm trying to return to Florida, where I previously had opportunities that helped me grow as a person. I was enrolled in college, had a social life, started flight school, and felt like I was actually building a future.

Today, I'm back in college pursuing my cybersecurity degree, but it's online. I spend most of my time sitting alone in my apartment watching everyone else move forward with their lives.

My goal is simple: get back to Florida, return to campus, resume flight school, and try to establish some sort of life for myself. I'd like the chance to make friends, be part of a community, pursue my education in person, and continue working toward the dreams I've had for years.

For most people, those things are considered normal parts of adulthood. For me, they've often felt just out of reach.

Yet even taking steps toward that goal feels difficult because I'm constantly second-guessing whether I'm allowed to make decisions for myself.

I don't mean occasional disagreements. I mean feeling like your choices don't matter, being treated like a child well into adulthood, being told what your limits are instead of being allowed to discover them yourself, and watching life happen around you while everyone else moves forward.

Has anyone else with CP experienced something similar?

How do you tell the difference between people protecting you and people controlling you?

And if you've spent years feeling like your life wasn't really yours, how did you start taking ownership of it?

I'm adopted and the youngest of seven siblings. My oldest sister is in her late 50s, and I'll be 33 in a little over a week.
For most of my life, I've watched my siblings, nieces, and nephews build their own lives. They've had careers, relationships, families, and independence. Meanwhile, I feel like I've spent years sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else move forward while I stay in the same place.
I have cerebral palsy and receive SSDI. I'm currently attending college online for cybersecurity. I live on my own and am capable of managing my own affairs, but I've always felt like I had very little autonomy. I've spent so much of my life around family that I never really got the chance to develop a life that feels like my own.
Lately, I've been trying to change that. I've opened my own bank account and started An Onlyfans and becoming more financially independent. For the first time, I'm trying to make decisions based on what I want for my future instead of what others think is best for me.
Part of me feels guilty about it, though. Maybe because I've spent so long being dependent on others, or because making my own choices feels unfamiliar.
I guess my question is: Has anyone else with CP struggled with wanting more independence later in life? Did you ever feel guilty for trying to take control of your own future?
Sometimes it feels like I've spent decades watching everyone else live their lives while I'm still waiting to start mine. I'm curious if anyone else can relate.