When the Soul Gets Strong

By Mark E. Smith

Have you struggled to find the reasons? I have. See, whenever we face physical adversity or emotional trauma – and I’ve faced both – we often struggle to find the reasons. The search for reasons often manifests itself in blame or guilt (and guilt is truly just the word that means we blame ourselves, so it’s all blame!).

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been through adversity or trauma and, in the search for the reasons, blamed someone, some event, or yourself. My hand is raised because when we experience adversity or trauma, going into a state of blame is a natural reaction and coping mechanism. Blame is a way we try to find the reasons for whatever has happened to us.

I remember being 13, in a fishing boat with my stepfather, who had his issues, but genuinely loved me. As we fished on a still lake in Oregon one summer afternoon, he shared with me his struggles with who was to blame for my having cerebral palsy? As he pointed out, on the one hand, the overdose of the epidural during my birthing process could have resulted in my loss of oxygen and, subsequently, cerebral palsy. Yet, my mother was open with him about her having smoked and consumed alcohol throughout her pregnancy, which also could have been the causation of my condition. “It’s just so horrible that either of those did this to you,” he said, fiddling with his fishing line.

It was a fitting conversation because I was at a point where I, too, was looking for the reasons that explained our current life and there was a lot of blame going around in my head. My mother and stepfather loved me, but they were a mess in every possible way. They were drunk, high, volatile and broke. And, in my teen mind, I had a lot to blame, including myself.

From as young as I can remember until her death, my mother swore that my biological father left because of my disability. So, as a child and as a teen, I held in a lot of blame. I blamed my father for leaving, but I also blamed myself for my cerebral palsy causing him to leave, which led to the dysfunctional dynamic of my mother and stepfather, and the scarring chain of events went on and on.

Yet, while I looked for the reasons to blame for my home life, interestingly I didn’t seek blame toward my disability, itself. In fact, I was at an age where I was developing physical independence, and I found that the more I accomplished in spite of cerebral palsy, the more my esteem developed. The adversity of severe cerebral palsy wasn’t detracting from my life, but it was enhancing it. Cerebral palsy proved to be my lifesaver in a youth that was otherwise spinning in chaos. Among all of this, a life truth that many have found over the centuries also revealed itself: cerebral palsy didn’t happen to me, it happened for me. Cerebral palsy, which was expressed to me as a negative, was manifesting itself in my life as a positive.

As I grew out of my teens and into my 20s, my personal momentum stayed on track. However, I continued internally struggling with my parents and upbringing. I was still looking for the reasons, and that process transcended from blame to resentment to disdain.

Then, my daughter was born. I was in the delivery room, and was blessed as the first to hold her. At that moment, all of my issues with my parents, for the most part, washed away. I was no longer concerned with being someone’s child, but rejoicing in being a father.

Friends of mine were also starting families around that time and expressed fear in whether they’d make good parents? I told everyone that I had no fear because if I simply gave my daughter that which I longed for as a child – parental presence, stability, unconditional love, modeled emotional health, and so on – all would fall into place. It was at that point that the truth about adversity again spoke to me: my dysfunctional upbringing didn’t happen to me, but for me. I was a better father because of the adversity I faced in my own family growing up.

I don’t want anyone to experience adversity or trauma. However, when we do, there’s no need to search for reasons or blame. We know the reason: it makes us stronger. We face adversity and trauma because it dramatically improves who we can be. No, it’s not any easy process, and because we may struggle with it doesn’t mean we’re weak. To the contrary, we struggle with adversity and trauma because we’re building incredible strength. It’s the gym of life, where the further we’re pushed, the stronger we become. And, once we get to the other side – realizing that adversity and trauma don’t happen to us, but for us – we have a solace and strength that takes our lives to heights we never dreamed.

Author: Mark E. Smith

The literary side of the WheelchairJunkie View all posts by Mark E. Smith