Page Author Biography

As a 29 year-old with cerebral palsy, I have had my share of struggles with dating relationships and sexuality.Growing up sheltered and attending a small alternative middle and high school where hardly anyone dated, I did not feel particularly discouraged about my "singlehood" until I reached college. Although I studied at a women's college, it seemed as though everyone around me was spending their weekends partying and "hooking up" at nearby co-ed or all male schools. Distrustful of the fraternity scene and too timid to search for alternative opportunities, I spent my weekends studying and socializing with the students who stayed on campus.I made some wonderful friends at college and do not regret my choice to nurture my relationships with women, yet I wish that I had been confident enough to explore other avenues for meeting men.

I haphazardly stumbled into my first romantic relationship at the age of 21, the summer before my senior year of college. As a budding disability rights activist, I met Toby at a national leadership conference for youth with disabilities. We quickly found that our backgrounds had a lot in common, that we understood each other's struggles, and that we had similar aspirations for the future. Although our relationship was long distance, we fell in love over that summer and spent most of the next two years together. It was a wonderful first relationship for me, and even though I was very inexperienced in terms of physical intimacy and sexuality, let's just say I was a pretty quick study

I learned that despite my disability, I was still a sexual being and that there were men out there who would see that and who would value both my inner and outer beauty. However, as we got to know each other better, we gradually discovered that we were not as similar as we first thought, and that our personality differences, combined with our individual struggles to begin our careers and find our unique identities, would eventually drive us apart. Breaking up with him was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced and part of me will always love him, but I think I knew from the beginning that he was not "the one" for me.

While my relationship with Toby taught me a lot about myself, my sexuality, and the kind of long term partner I hoped to find, I wish it had given me more confidence that there would be any other potential partners. I once again found myself full of doubts and insecurities about whether there would ever be anybody else, and I began to wonder whether my first love was just an anomaly, rather than concrete evidence that I could be attractive and desirable to a potential romantic partner. Despite the fact that over the next several years I would develop a strong network of friends and would be generally happy with my life as a graduate student, I always felt that some significant part of my life was missing but was still (save for single dates and short-lived couplings here and there) too insecure and anxious to really put myself out there into situations conducive to meeting someone.

They say that love doesn't just fall into your lap, and that you've got to go searching for it. While I do believe that people with and without disabilities need to be proactive in their quest for romance, I "fell" into my second serious relationship in another unexpected place: my academic department.

Ryan and I had known each other as fellow PhD students for over a year before we began dating; I liked him from the moment I met him, and was secretly crushed when I found out that he was in a serious relationship with someone else. By the time he and his ex-girlfriend broke up, we'd already become great friends and I felt really comfortable around him; we'd even traveled to England together to attend a conference.

I remember trying hard to be supportive of him after his break-up, all the while thinking that I needed to play my cards very carefully. I must have drawn a good hand because it was less than two months later that we began "officially" dating, and next month we will celebrate our one-year anniversary.

In some ways, I consider this to be my first "real" relationship, as Ryan and I see each other almost daily and although we truly love one another, we often have disagreements and trouble communicating about our everyday needs, including our needs for closeness and our needs for independence. Despite these conflicts and the fact that we have pretty distinct personality characteristics, there remains a certain "spark" that keeps us connected. Recently, after we'd been arguing, I was trying to describe to Ryan this "spark" that I felt so strongly. He immediately grabbed my hand, kissed it, and said "Kelly, that's called love.

The two most important lessons I have learned about romantic relationships are (a) that they can be challenging to navigate - joyous and painful, sometimes at the same time; and (b) that it's almost impossible to have a healthy relationship if you do not feel confident in whom you are as an individual and in being on your own. It has always seemed like an oxymoron: the stability and goodness of our romantic relationships seem to be critical for developing that confidence and for validating who we are, yet it's exceedingly difficult to have a healthy relationship to start with if we are not already confident as women, even as women with disabilities.

I love Ryan all the more because I love myself; I am with him because I want to be, not because I need a man to be happy or whole. A friend of mine who met her boyfriend and quickly married after being single for many years recently described her love by utilizing the old cliché, "He completes me." Although I am glad she is happy and I hope that she will continue to be happy, I couldn't help but flinch when I heard her statement. For Ryan does not complete me; I am complete on my own, as is he. Instead, Ryan and I complement one another; we as individuals come together to form a partnership, and we value one another as individuals as much as we value our relationship as a couple.

So, please do not, as women with disabilities, or just as women, feel like you have to settle.Please do not feel like you are worthless without a partner. Please do not sell yourself short or give up because you have a disability.If you choose to look for a partner, please put yourself out there in situations where you shine, even if those situations provoke anxiety and even if you initially face rejection. Please recognize that not only do you have value, but that your disability (as well as your womanhood) is an integral part of that value. Please do not be afraid to explore and enjoy your opportunities for romance and for sexual expression. Finally, please share your struggles and successes with others who create and visit this site.

Together, we can form an active and vibrant community of individuals who self-identify as female, disabled, and proud!

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