I’ve had Cerebral Palsy (CP), a disorder that adversely affects movements and one’s ability to maintain balance and posture, since I was born — two months early, weighing 2 lbs 12 oz. And although my CP is very much a part of me, it’s not immediately visible to others. My personal case has caused a semi-severe speech impediment. I say semi-severe, because it depends on who you ask, and the level of stress I’m under on a particular day. Some days, I sound clear as a whistle, other days are more of a challenge. I have delays in my fine motor skills, and seemingly simple things like putting on jewelry and doing my own hair don't always translate well (which can be quite frustrating when I'm trying to put together a look). I’ve found ways to adapt, mainly out of survival. I’ve learned new things each day about my specific needs or challenges as I navigate adulthood. But growing up, I tried my best to hide behind the things about me that shined. My disability seemed to be something I could hide — except that wasn't the case at all.