My name is Rachel Collie, and I am 20 years old. I have Spastic Diplegia Cerebral Palsy. For me this means that I am a full-time wheelchair user, unable to walk as well as a milder impact on my arms and hands. I have been a Cerebral Palsy Scotland service user for nearly 18 years.

I am currently a third year student studying Business Management at Glasgow Caledonian University. This Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month I thought it was important for me to share what my university experience with cerebral palsy has been like so far, both the good and the bad.

There are a lot of worries that come with starting university and living with CP. My main worries were wheelchair access, space in lecture and seminar halls, fire exits and the location of toilets, and support arrangements.

I love the university experience overall! I really enjoy lectures because they allow you to gain the basic knowledge around a broad topic, which then allows me to carry out my own research to gain a deeper understanding of the topic I have a specific interest in or that will benefit me in my future coursework as well as my career.

I enjoy seminars because they have, and still do allow me to meet new friends as well as learning about different points of view on a certain topic through having really interesting conversations with people from all walks of life.

If I am being totally honest, I was very anxious about starting university which is totally normal for anyone but not least for someone with cerebral palsy with all the extra worries that it comes with. Certainly, part of the reason for my worry about starting was about support. At school I was used to one-to-one support which was fully organised for me with no say from me. A lot of people will view that as a negative which I also did at the time by the way! However, I was yet to realise how difficult it can be to find a personal assistant (PA) that could meet my needs as well as both of us getting along really well.

At university you have a disability advisor who supports you with recruiting someone to support you along with completing the application for funding for your PAs and any equipment needed. They also liaise with the funding body if there are any additional items needed.

One of the main difficulties in my experience of finding a PA is that most PAs are either self-employed or employed by an agency. Why can this be a problem you may ask? It can be hard because of their employment status – they have the opportunity to pick exactly what ‘shifts’ they would like to do meaning if there is a ‘shift’ they don’t want to work they have no obligation to! This can mean needing more than one PA may be much more likely, to be able to make sure that all your university timetable can be covered.

Another difficulty is the university timetable itself. This is because every trimester when you are given a new timetable there is not much advance notice of the timetable before the new term begins. This is difficult because it means both me and my PAs have no ability to plan our lives as I can’t give them advance notice of the hours I require them to work. This may mean that I lose out because my PAs have already booked other work as they are self-employed and need to make sure they have enough work to maintain a good income. If this happens, I have to use an agency to find a PA who is able to support me at university. This may sound scary, but I have found a reliable agency who have always supported me to the best of their ability. It’s not as scary as you think, if you are at university and need to use an agency. To find support my advice would be to use one which is well known as having a large number of staff because this will mean it is more likely that they will have a member of staff who is able to meet your needs and who you get along well with. If you don’t get on with someone don’t feel pressure to keep working with them. Let the agency know and they will help you to find someone more suited to you.

Although it may seem that my university experience has been mostly negative that is definitely not the case! There are, and have been, lots of positives. One of the main positives is that I have found two amazing PAs who I get on with so well and who have made a positive difference to my whole university experience! Another positive is that my PAs allow me to be more independent and experience things I would not have been able to without them. And my final positive that I feel I need to share with you comes from my university experience is the friends that I have made. I have made friends for life! Its amazing to have great friends who have the same passion as you.

Even though there have been negatives with my university journey overall university has been both a positive and exciting experience! So go ahead and don’t be put off by thinking it will be difficult because you happen to have a disability.

What would make the move to university easier for disabled students would be a proper transition programme to allow the items I have mentioned to be sorted/explored before university begins. This would make the move much more enjoyable and increase the excitement to going to university.

I hope this article helps you realise that you can attend and enjoy university with cerebral palsy.

Every March is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month. This is my disability, but it doesn’t hold me back.

Cerebral palsy affects many people in the UK and is more common than people realise, around 2-2.5 in every 1000 children in the UK are born with cerebral palsy, there are an estimated 30,000 children with cerebral palsy in the UK.

This month aims to bring together people, their families, carers and organisations from over 100 countries, this is a lifelong neurological condition that affects a person to ability to control their movement, posture and balance.

No two people experience the condition in the same way – for me it’s just a label, as we’re all individuals, I refuse to let people tell me what I should do with my life, some people call that determination.

Looking back to school, I had to learn how to walk and attended speech therapy, people who know me best still say to this day I’ve never shut up. I went to a disabled school in Glasgow, or what is known as a special needs primary then high school, but what it special about a school? When I finished I went to Motherwell College, but I was allocated to a basic life skills course. It wasn’t my choice, I wasn’t asked what course I’d like to do, so I pushed to get on a business course and won a place.

My dream was to work in the media. I recall people at the time saying to me, “what about a shop job?”, but not one said “yes media sounds good.” However it was my life, so I joined Hospital Radio when I was 18. I recommend it, if anyone wants a career in the media, that’s the best place to start. Many famous Scots media celebrities have started here, such as Tom Russell and Ken Bruce.

I was there for 8 years, I asked if I could do a sports round up on the station, then I moved onto a few community radio stations. I hosted my own show, interviewing different people gave me a good start. Forward till today, I’m now a freelance journalist, worked for BBC on TV , Radio, STV and various newspapers outlets, some acting work too.

I think I’ve achieved a lot, my best advice would be if someone said no you can’t, that should make you more determined to prove them wrong. I would say never give up on your goals, if you believe you can, just do it, you may need some support to get there but that’s fine, we all need that sometimes.

Being a teenager with Cerebral Palsy isn’t easy, especially when your physical differences set you apart from your peers. From a young age I knew I was different. I could tell other people didn’t walk like me, no one I knew had four surgeries by the time they were twelve. As far as I was concerned, my experiences made me a much more interesting person. My friends viewed me in the same way as they viewed everyone else, albeit with some extra bits so they could help me when I needed. The progression from child to teenager had its challenges, as it always does, but I wasn’t prepared for the changes I faced. I assumed starting High School would be a completely average experience. I was aware I might be more tired than everyone else, but I was ready for something new and to educate a whole new set of people. However, the first few weeks brought me sharply back to reality. Almost no one asked questions. Instead, they just stared. Rapt with confusion, questioning, and possibly a little jealousy over my treatment from teachers. It was obvious they were judging me before I even got a chance to introduce myself.

I knew I needed to find a way to put myself out there, to make it clear to my peers I was just as capable as them. I tried a few things, desperately trying to fit in at sports clubs, but nothing felt right. A few months into the year, a friend suggested I audition for the summer musical. I’d never considered it before. Our stage had stairs, and I really didn’t want to tire myself out trying to use them, but I kept hearing about how much fun everyone else was having. Eventually, I gave in, agreeing to go on a temporary basis in case it was awful. Little did I know, it would change the way I viewed myself forever.

When audition week came round, I was relatively confident. We were doing a junior production of Anything Goes, and I had spent the last week listening to the soundtrack on repeat, memorising every line. I’d never had issues with performing in front of people, so I wasn’t nervous. Until I was standing outside the studio doors, listening to the seasoned senior performers belting out the lead role, moving around and gesturing as they did so. In that moment, I felt like an outsider. I knew my legs couldn’t carry me the way theirs did. I had never really danced before, and I knew I was going to stick out regardless of how hard I tried. That audition resulted in me missing my cue three times and being given a bit part in the ensemble. After that day, I was ready to give up. Clearly, I wasn’t up to the task, and I should just stick to what I knew. But something about seeing my name on the cast list made me go back, week after week, putting everything I had into my tiny role. Rehearsals were rocky. I could only take part for half an hour or so before my body betrayed me, and I was forced to sit down. As I watched from the back of the hall, massaging my calves and hoping for the pain to subside, I was taken back to all the times I’d been sidelined in PE, or had to explain myself so I could get out of something difficult. It hurt to watch my friends easily coping with hours upon hours of intense routines so easily, but watching them also gave me a glimpse of what I could be part of. I could see the familial relationship the cast had built, I was involved in something special. I celebrated my thirteenth birthday on stage, a jovial piano version of ‘happy birthday’ being performed enthusiastically by the cast and crew. As I stood, awkwardly dancing along, I felt truly accepted for the first time that year.

As show week approached, tensions were high and I was getting worried. So many things could go wrong, I was reliant on others helping me on and off stage. A ramp has been installed as soon as I mentioned stairs would be an issue, but it was affectionately referred to as ‘the ramp of doom’ or       ‘danger ramp’, so I still had to be careful. What if I couldn’t costume change in time? What if I didn’t make it on stage, or god forbid, fell over? On the first performance night, I was absolutely bricking it. I knew I’d have eyes on me regardless of what I was doing, and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The worry was constant, until I was standing in the wings. I saw the audience chattering excitedly, my parents and friends in the front row for moral support. Seeing the turnout for something we had created eased the tension slightly. When the opening music started and I strutted on stage, I made a decision. This was my character, my time to shine, and I was going to make sure people were staring at me for the right reasons.

As the curtain fell on closing night, I stood, stunned, in the middle of the stage. People were laughing and crying and hugging each other, and I think I was too. I don’t remember much of that night. All I know is that I couldn’t believe what I’d just done.  High on adrenaline, I chattered excitedly all the way home. I was elated, until the excitement wore off. That night, I sat in bed crying. Not because I was upset, but because I was emotionally and physically exhausted. All of it was so intense and after a month of eating, sleeping and breathing theatre, my body finally caught up.

The next year, it took no convincing for me to go back. I knew it was going to be difficult. Our production of Sunshine on Leith was nearly three times as long as the year before, but I couldn’t wait. I strode into the audition room with great confidence, landing a few small parts which I performed with gusto. The process was much the same as the year before, except I wasn’t needed as much so I could sit out without feeling too drained. That show week was one of the best of my life. The songs were upbeat and everyone was so happy to be there. The students in their final year were a little emotional, but we kept it under control (just), until the last night. Standing in the wings, listening to the emotional rendition of ‘Sunshine on Leith’, I finally broke. I was so unbelievably proud of what we’d created as a group, and what I’d managed to do despite the barriers I was constantly faced with. Of course, explaining that was difficult, no one else quite understood the magnitude of the moment. I had to put on the best performance of my life that night, delivering my lines tear – stained and tired. Like a chain reaction, everyone became progressively more emotional and by the final number, we were sobbing our way through a high energy dance, cry – laughing through the speeches and collapsing in a pile of tears and bodies as the curtain closed.

We always had photos taken on show days. I wasn’t used to having candids taken of me. My walking frame was usually met with backlash from photographers claiming it ruined their lighting, but I knew this time would be different. Our photographer was another wheelchair user, so they completely understood my situation. When those photos were published, I couldn’t believe it. It was really me up there, frame and all, finally standing out because I wanted to and not against my will. People congratulated me in the corridors, my other disabled friends in the audience were beside themselves when they saw me. They finally had real teen representation on stage, and they loved it.

After our most recent show, Matilda, I was less tired than usual. I had a larger role as Mrs Phelps the librarian, and used my wheelchair as a result of injury. It was scary, but it did mean I’d conserved some energy. Much more friendly with the leaving members, I made sure to be right in the middle of the celebrations. They were some of my biggest cheerleaders, happy to spend their time in between scenes lugging my chair up and down the stairs. As we stood and hugged each other, linking hands in the obligatory post – show circle, I felt almost peaceful. These people had shaped my high school experience, they saw me for me. Yes, I still had CP, I always will, but I was Abby who did the school show, and had CP. It was part of me, but not my defining factor. That first night on stage, I discovered what inclusion should be. I felt valued, important, and equal in my own way.

To any teenagers with CP, I see you. I know it’s difficult, and we’ll never stop fighting for the basic rights we deserve, but I also know that it gets better. There are people out there for everyone, and there is always something you were meant to be part of. You deserve to have teenage experiences, regardless of ability, and I guarantee there is someone out there who will benefit from seeing you thrive. I wouldn’t be where I am today without our shows. I’m lucky to have so many amazing people around me, and I’m so grateful for the teachers who were willing to put their faith in me and offer support every step of the way. Theatre has been a major confidence boost for me, and I’ll forever be proud of the girl who took the plunge and decided she was worth fighting for.