Adventures most people wouldn’t believe I’m capable of:

With my friends’ help, I’ve been parasailing, traveled to Florida, California, and Eretz Yisrael, ridden on a camel, and stretched out on the sand.

New Surroundings

I moved into my first group home in Monroe when I was nine. All the residents are delayed or handicapped in various ways. Baruch Hashem, I have my head. A clear mind in a handicapped body is a blessing, but it’s not always easy.

The other residents might be more physically able than I am, but they’re mentally delayed, and they’re jealous and make fun of me at times. It’s also hard to build friendships and have conversations with people who aren’t able to relate to you. But I also learned gratitude from being with people who aren’t as gifted as I am. I have so much to be grateful for!

My solid hashkafos come from my parents, who are extremely spiritual people. I’ve also gotten lots of chizuk from Rav Ephraim Wachsman shlita who met privately with me to encourage me.

It’s taken a lot of work to be where I am now.

I’ve had to learn to be strict with myself. I could let myself be miserable, but I learned I have to choose happiness. No one can make you laugh if you want to cry, but if you look at the bright side you can turn everything around. There are times when I’m on a lift so the staff can help me with my physical care, and the lift will break and leave me dangling in midair. I could kvetch, but I make a choice to just laugh and see the humor.

A sense of humor is important or else life would just be one embarrassment or frustration after another.

People come over to me and say in this loud, exaggerated voice, like they’re talking to a five-year-old, “Wooow, what a pretty dress!” and I think to myself, “Who has the problem here, me or you?” Don’t make any assumptions about someone’s worth or ability based on appearances.

That’s easy to say but much harder to do, even for me. I’ve struggled with wondering about what I’m worth. My friends have moved on, gotten married, accomplished goals, and I’m still here. Out of school, there’s less to occupy my mind. So what’s there for me?

It takes constant focus and effort to remember that Hashem has a plan for each of us and gave us exactly the tools we need. I frequently remind myself to look at all the good I’ve been given and base my worth on who I am inside, not on superficial attributes.

Focusing Outward

Today, I speak in many different schools. I started this after one incident when I fell out of my wheelchair and hurt myself. The staff at the home were shocked that I was laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I feel deeply that you can choose how to look at your life, and I wanted to share that.

I talk to the girls about tefillah, positivity, and not letting challenges get you down. I gain, and the girls gain. I get so many letters from the girls and have made so many good friends from those appearances, and they visit me a lot. Our little chevreh calls itself “Bnos Breindy,” and we get together often.

I leave my plans up to Hashem, and He always comes through for me, even though there are so many obstacles — unreliable handicap-accessible vans, missed rides, funding for trips, and of course, my health. Somehow, when you have bitachon, He always makes things work out.

I also love to talk on the phone, and I’ve coordinated many successful tzedakah events. It feels amazing to be on the giving end.

Is this the life I would have chosen? Not many people would. But I choose to focus on everything Hashem has given me, and find joy every day in what I can do. I have cerebral palsy, but it doesn’t have me.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 772)