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his might surprise you, but I’m not distraught over my disability. No, I don’t cry myself to sleep. No, I don’t wave my fist at the sky and curse God. No, it’s not a big feat that I got up this morning. I’m just Izzy. You know, the awkward kid that cross-dresses at conventions and makes Jesus jokes. In fact, I’m only writing about my disability because my mom wanted me to. Yes, I use a wheelchair. Yes, I have hearing issues. Yes, my heart is too big (for real, my heart’s enlarged.) It’s not a big deal. I’m still a normal kid.

I was diagnosed with Friedreich’s Ataxia when I was nine years old. I’d had mobility and coordination issues since I was five, so it wasn’t really a big surprise. Now, you’re probably expecting some cinematic reaction. Sorry to disappoint, but there is none. I was literally told, “You’re probably gonna die by 50 and you’ll be in a wheelchair by 13” – and I was all right with that. Of course, my parents carted me around to shrinks and psychologists. I sat though lots of appointments where I was told, “It must be hard to be disabled.” I just nodded and waited to leave.

So here I am, 14 years old and still happy. Honestly, my disability doesn’t really affect me that much. I’m still a normal kid. If you are going to take anything away from this essay, remember not to assume stuff. Especially about people. You don’t know their life; don’t pretend you do.