I want to say I remember the exact date. I do not; however, that does not take the meaning, luster, or any other adjective to describe the importance of this day away.

I was a sophomore in college and still was having trouble finding a friend who truly made me feel comfortable talking about my cerebral Palsy. I felt that until I explained it, I would not have that authentic friendship I so desired.

Anyway, I believe it was a gloomy day in September or October at Mitchell College in New London, CT.

I remember it like it was yesterday —- which is saying something because the story starts with me on the phone with my mom — it probably was the 1000 time I talked to her that day. Still, this time was unlike the rest: she called, and I did not moan and groan about how much work I had to do; instead, she asked me what I was doing.

It was probably four p.m., and I was lying in bed sleeping to mask my anxiety about making friends. I said, “Nothing.” “Well, what can you do?” She asked. Then, in a voice of trepidation, I said:

“The basketball team is holding a clinic for Special Olympics CT.

I did not want to go because — though I would be volunteering — I did not want to be associated with individuals whose disabilities are apparen, as I told myself that I did not have friends because of the way I walk.

After the event, everyone was given Pizza. I took mine and scarfed it down because I probably had not eaten all day due to my anxiety.

While eating as fast as I could, I choked, and this player on the school team offered me his drink. I eventually stopped choking, and we sat on the gym steps for hours, talking about life and basketball.

After explaining to him how my Cerebral affects me, he said, “Do me a favor; we are not going to refer to it as a disability; we are going to refer to it as an OPPORTUNITY!

I must have looked at him as if a bear was attacking me. Still, about six years later, I am grateful that I have learned that I have an OPPORTUNITY to impact people using my disability POSITIVELY.

To my mentor, friend, and father figure,

It’s hard to believe that it’s been over two years since we crossed paths. Does it sound vain if I say it’s even harder to believe how far I’ve come since then? Before you came into my life, I was a nobody with nothing. I was a thirty-something with no spouse, child, “real” job, degree, drivers’ license, or close friends and family. All I had was a couple hundred extra pounds of weight, a mountain of bills I couldn’t afford, and a disability that killed my chances of a normal life.

I found your work about a year before we met. It was Summer 2020, at the height of COVID restrictions. By then, I’d resigned myself to my idle, isolated existence. My life was never going to get better, so there was no point in living anymore. I spent my days just waiting to die, either by my own hand or by slowly eating and drinking myself into an early grave, until I saw something that changed my life. You.

While mindlessly scrolling through my phone one day, I happened upon a video of your work. Something about it intrigued me enough to click on it, and I’m so glad I did! In the character you created, I saw someone like myself who had fallen short of the benchmarks of adulthood in every way imaginable. By the end of the video you had me crying along with you, and coming from a woman who hides behind stoicism and silence, that’s saying a lot!

For the first time in many years, I wasn’t misunderstood and alone. For the first time, I had hope that I wasn’t too far gone to make something of my life. I made a choice that day that I would survive the pandemic in hopes of someday thanking the man responsible for that video.
It was a warm Florida night when I got my chance. There’s no need to ask if you remember. You promised you wouldn’t forget, and you’re the type of person who remembers everything anyway. While I know you remember the night itself, I don’t think you know what I had to go through to be there. I never told you how scared and sick I was because I was afraid you’d judge me, but now I don’t think you would.

Getting to that event in Florida meant flying for the first time in my life, something I was afraid to do. I wasn’t scared of the actual flight; I was scared of everything that could go wrong up to that point. What if the TSA harassed me? What if the airline lost my reservation or forgot to assign me both of the seats I booked? What if the baggage handlers lost my luggage? What if the other passengers fat-shamed me? Worse yet, what if I went through all of that only to have my flight delayed or canceled?

I was awake worrying the entire night before my flight, and by the time my cab arrived, my stomach was in knots. Part of me wanted to back out and write the trip off as a lost cause, but I didn’t. I owed it to you to show up.

That flight wasn’t the only time I had to step outside my comfort zone on that journey. By the time the event itself rolled around, I was running on too little sleep and too much to drink. My legs were so swollen that I could barely walk underneath the long dress I wore to hide my body, yet walking into that room was exactly what I did. As I looked around, I saw men and women in their designer clothing and fine jewelry, talking amongst themselves. Then it hit me. They all knew each other, and I didn’t know anyone!

What right did I have to stand among them? I was just the fat, awkward weirdo in the cheap Walmart dress. It was only a matter of time before everyone in that room, including you, would figure out that I didn’t belong there! I wanted to walk right back out the door before that happened, but I’d come too far to turn back. This might be my only chance to thank you for the inspiration your work gave me when I needed it most.

I stood along the wall next to a promo kiosk, far out of the way so as not to say the wrong thing and annoy others. Despite my best efforts, I still managed to make an idiot of myself by mistaking one of the event’s most important attendees for a kiosk employee. I was mortified! What if I made a mistake like that when I tried to talk to you? What if that person warned you to steer clear of me because I was so weird and rude? I didn’t want to take that chance!

For the second time that night, I wanted to run away. For the second time, I didn’t. Minutes ticked by as I stood on the sidelines watching, panicking. What if you left the event before I got up the courage to speak to you? I slowly inched away from my hiding place, watching you and your entourage for a break in the conversation. Suddenly you turned around and saw me standing there with the gift I made for you.

I could barely get the words out to tell you how and why I made that gift. The whole time, the thought was in the back of my mind, What if he hates me at first sight for my looks or my accent? What if he loses patience with my awkwardness? I mentally prepared myself for the inevitable rejection to which I’d become accustomed, but it never came. When I thought I’d find derision, you gave me encouragement. The person in the room with the most cause to look down upon me was the person who treated me with the most compassion.

I walked away from that interaction thinking, Did that really just happen? In the real world, people like me aren’t supposed to win over people like you. That’s only in fairy tales! I didn’t know how it happened, but I knew I didn’t want to give up that feeling of belonging! That night, I faced a choice. I could go back to the idle way of life I knew and let your acceptance be a one time thing, or I could honor that acceptance by becoming someone worthy of it.

Just once, I wanted to measure up to someone’s expectations, so I decided to make one last-ditch effort to improve myself. That night, I made a promise that I would turn my life around and not let your belief in me be in vain. While I still have a long way to go, I’ve made slow but sure progress. In the past two years, I’ve lost 100 lbs, laid the groundwork to start an online business, and stepped outside my comfort zone many more times. One such time let me fulfill a lifelong dream of visiting New York at Christmas, and another is going to take me on my first ever cruise next year. Everything I am now is because of your encouragement, and I can never thank you enough!

When asked to write a poem about a time I left my comfort zone, I giggle a little and bat an eye for it was the time I left my home

The moment I set foot on earth was the day I left the known; and to my sheer confusion, humans call this home

You see, we live to die, we fight to fly, we remind ourselves to breathe; but human form is not our norm, we exist for pleasantries. We exist to feel a gapping spectrum laced with woes and fright, but at the other timeless end, our love can shine its light

We agreed to become physical, and surrender our comfort zone; we agreed to teach our souls through the chaos that is unknown

So I giggle a little when you ask how I’ve seemed to leave; the only form of living is fighting to be free

I walked the lines and felt the sting of endless blissful travel, through arduous roads and stepping stones that always seem to unravel. But being human humbly means living for discomfort; like little tiny paper cuts or longing for your mother

And I praise the days I cry because feeling means I’m alive. I get to be a person who feels the dance of life

So I giggle a little when you ask the time I left my comfort zone. You leave your comfort everyday for the sake of evolving your soul.

No deodorant or shower for a week? Ok not too bad thanks for letting me know. I’ll bring wipes.

Unscented wipes? Oh. Okay. Bugs and all, got it.

Ok so do I bring the toilet paper with me – and how many feet away from camp? Ok. Cool. Wait, I do WHAT with the little orange shovel? Ah got it. Gotta do what you gotta do. And this little red bag is called a bio bag? Ok thanks.

We’ll cook in the woods that’s great. I love cooking and I love the woods! Oh we save the leftovers for the next day? Including the cheese slices? I see

Hey, sorry I know we just woke up but my bag is no longer tied up in the tree and my toiletries are all punctured — oh, oh okay a bear pulled it down. Hmm okay wow. So the bear was how many feet from our tent? Okay, cool, no that’s cool, I wish I saw it.

I have to brush my teeth with my toothpaste and a little water from my water bottle and – sorry show me again – I spray the toothpaste instead of spitting it? oh to not attract animals yeah that makes a lot of sense

I leaned into discomfort in the middle of the woods with a bunch of strangers and chilly nights and no makeup or deodorant

But when I leaned I learned I was standing with an incredible group of new friends

There was enough rain to feel like we took several showers a day
My hair was the healthiest it’s ever been
And turns out, you make friends quickly when you have to find somewhere to use the forest bathroom
I learned how to make my best stir fry and that pepper jack can go a long way without refrigeration
I saw a beautiful black bear enjoying the scenery just like us. Turns out they like sour patch watermelon too
I learned how to protect myself from lightening
We kept walking and walking until dusk was coming and we wondered where we would sleep, and that’s when we saw the water falls and set up our first camp
Good things come to those who walk and wonder
Our fingers were crossed for sunshine but we had to cross a large stream swollen from the rain
I leaned into discomfort and into the hands of our leaders and strangers who became friends as they picked me up to keep me from falling in the river when my foot slipped on a rock
Sometimes leaning into discomfort means falling into something beautiful
A wonderful net of beauty and nature and friendship
Sometimes it’s the intricate silk strings of discomfort that becomes a web, delicate and strong all at once