I can still feel the warm July air ruffle through my hair as I sped down the zipline at camp in rural Pennsylvania. I was determined to reach the giant oak tree at the end and scream, “I LOVE TREES,” but I came up short by a few feet. Disappointment flashed in my mind, but I soon remembered that I just accomplished something I never thought I could do. Born with Spina Bifida and other medical challenges, I found that activities requiring physical endurance seemed unattainable. It felt humiliating to feel different. Fortunately, camp taught me the importance of embracing differences for making a difference. A state tucked up in the northeastern part of the United States is the place I call home. Vermont has everything anyone could ask for. The mountains offer excellent trails, and the lake cools me off in the sweltering summers. I have grown up here, and the memories I hold will last a lifetime. However, even the idyllic scenery can present challenges that most people never consider. Most people can wear shorts and not feel ashamed of their slim calves. Most people don't know the feeling of crying in PE class because you can’t climb the ropes course. I always have to think of a different approach to physical challenges while many others can just do it. Despite all those challenges, no one ever asks why I can’t do something, like climbing a tree. My disability is always there; people notice it, but they don’t think to care. These thoughts rattle at me all day. A constant battle occurs between “Should I put myself out there and embrace my differences?” or “Should I try to blend in and be like everybody else?” This constant battle eats away my confidence little by little. Because no one can quite understand my experience, I have started to question where my home is. I wish I had known that a place nearly 400 miles away was waiting to welcome me. The moment I walked through the gates with the words “Camp Spifida” engraved on top, I knew I had found my forever home. I was greeted by dozens of lime green shirts printed with puzzle pieces and “Better Together” logos. At first I found it cliché, but the message helped resolve my inner battle. Everyone had Spina Bifida and shared many of my experiences. The fear in my mind had been erased. I could now conquer the ropes course and wear whatever I wanted without being judged. My stomach hurt from staying up laughing until tears rolled down my face. We were all so comfortable in our skin. Although this first year at camp was only a week long, I had found the life I had repressed for 12 years. Each summer after camp, I think of how to embrace my identity without shame. I ponder how to make a difference. Can I present a case study on “Stem Cell Treatment for Spina Bifida” to my biology class? Yes, I can. I want to advocate for people with disabilities and encourage others to care. The confidence I gained at camp propelled me forward and made Vermont my home. I hope to use my experiences to create a sense of belonging in my community. I want to be the voice for people who are not able to speak for themselves. The ropes course, like my course through life, can feel uncertain and challenging. Life might not always have a safety net, but through friendships and persistence, I know I can make it through safely and happily.

I can still feel the warm July air ruffle through my hair as I sped down the zipline at camp in rural Pennsylvania. I was determined to reach the giant oak tree at the end and scream, “I LOVE TREES,” but I came up short by a few feet. Disappointment flashed in my mind, but I soon remembered that I just accomplished something I never thought I could do. Born with Spina Bifida and other medical challenges, I found that activities requiring physical endurance seemed unattainable. It felt humiliating to feel different. Fortunately, camp taught me the importance of embracing differences for making a difference. A state tucked up in the northeastern part of the United States is the place I call home. Vermont has everything anyone could ask for. The mountains offer excellent trails, and the lake cools me off in the summers. I have grown up here, and the memories I hold will last a lifetime. However, even the idyllic scenery can present challenges that most people never consider. Most people don't know the feeling of crying in PE class because you can’t climb the ropes course. I always have to think of a different approach to physical challenges while many others can just do it. Despite all those challenges, no one ever asks why I can’t do something, like climbing a tree. My disability is always there; people notice it, but they don’t think to care. These thoughts rattle at me all day. A constant battle occurs between “Should I put myself out there and embrace my differences?” or “Should I try to blend in and be like everybody else?” Because no one can quite understand my experience, I have started to question where my home is. I wish I had known that a place nearly 400 miles away was waiting to welcome me. The moment I walked through the gates with the words “Camp Spifida” engraved on top, I knew I had found my forever home. I was greeted by dozens of lime green shirts printed with puzzle pieces and “Better Together” logos. At first I found it cliché, but the message helped resolve my inner battle. Everyone had Spina Bifida and shared many of my experiences. I could now conquer the ropes course and wear whatever I wanted without being judged. My stomach hurt from staying up laughing until tears rolled down my face. We were all so comfortable in our skin. We were silly, loyal friends, and motivated to overcome any obstacles. Although this first year at camp was only a week long, I had found the life I had repressed for 12 years. Each summer after camp, I think of how to embrace my identity without shame. I ponder how to make a difference. Can I present a case study on “Stem Cell Treatment for Spina Bifida” to my biology class? Yes, I can. I want to advocate for people with disabilities and encourage others to care. The confidence I gained at camp propelled me forward and made Vermont my home. I hope to use my experiences to create a sense of belonging in my community. I strive to change that stigma and build an environment worthy of everybody. Whether this is through becoming a civil rights lawyer or speaking up when people use derogatory language, I am confident that I can help others feel at home. The ropes course, like my course through life, can feel uncertain and challenging. Life might not always have a safety net, but through friendships and persistence, I know I can make it through safely and happily.