When one has a physical condition, there is a fine line between accepting the reality and ‘hoping’ that nothing is wrong. That was the fine line which I was treading when I was first diagnosed with cerebellar ataxia, I refused to believe that I had a disability. Despite the inconveniences that I experienced and the dozens of doctors that I visited, I adamantly claimed that there was ‘nothing wrong with me’ for the the first two years of the diagnosis.

It was only once I had reached high school, did I let myself buy into the belief that ‘I may be different’. At this point, I went through a severe attack of my disease, which delayed the start of my high school career. This was the beginning of the steady decline in my disability. In hindsight, I always thought that giving into the reality that something was ‘different’ about me was a great mistake. Well, although it didn’t lead to my demise, yet hastened the process.

Ever since, I struggle on this tight rope every day. On one hand, if I blindly accept what is real, that I have a degenerative condition, I will stop fighting, trying, and hoping to improve my balance. On the other, if I continued to deny that something was ‘wrong’ with me, I would have faced repeated disappointments. The fine line I struggle to stay on is accepting that I have a disability, but also believing in miracles and that I can improve my quality of life with persistence.