Bringing Movement Into The Life I Was Actually Living

Jessica Huang

When I first started college at St. Francis (SFC), I used my wheelchair for almost everything on campus. It was familiar, efficient, and predictable. It made sense while I was juggling classes, commuting, and figuring out what college life was supposed to look like. I could walk, but I just felt like if I walked anywhere else, I couldn’t keep up with the world I was in.

Everything changed in the second semester of my junior year. It was my second semester working my on-campus job, and I had been working toward walking across the stage for about six months. Walking on campus required more than physical effort. It involved many small acts of advocacy. I asked the school to store my walker. I requested a chair so I could sit safely in class. I made small adjustments that allowed me to move independently without dragging my wheelchair everywhere. With these supports in place, I finally had what I needed to stand up and walk the hall like every other student.

Those first steps were not glamorous. I missed a few elevators while trying to keep my balance and stay centered over my feet. But the moment felt different from anything I had done before. It was not a PT session. It was not a goal someone assigned to me. It was me, using the strength I had worked for, in the same hallways where I lived my daily life.

Once I started, everything began to shift. I walked more often on campus, even when it took extra time. I stretched between classes. I lifted weights after school. I noticed that moving helped me concentrate better. I began to understand that succeeding in college required more than studying. It required paying attention to everything my body and mind needed. Progress was no longer something I measured only in appointments. It became something I carried into the rest of my life.

For young adults with CP, this is the part no one prepares us for. Our needs do not fit neatly into categories like medical, school, work, or life. They overlap and influence each other. They show up all at once. Progress does not stay in the clinic unless we bring it with us. Independence is not something we suddenly gain at a certain age. It is something we build through daily choices, small acts of advocacy, and listening to what our bodies need.

Movement, even in small amounts, matters. Carrying it forward means recognizing that our goals, responsibilities, and well-being are all connected. Therapy may start in a clinic, but real progress happens everywhere else.