Brandon Ryan
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This book is my honest attempt at confession—a huge confession, requiring everything that had been lodged in the chambers of my soul to aid in expression. Drawing them out, I have broken the locks that kept my deepest thoughts stored away. This book means so much to me, but I know my stories. I feel them, just as you must living with yours. Yet this is just as much for you as it is for me. I typed this entire book with my left hand, solely the first finger of my left hand; it was for you.
The Emotional Struggle has been a dream of mine, and it has been nearly three years in the making. It started with a year of writing everyday trying to perfect what was going to be a chance to inspire people; to understand that no matter how bad life can be at times, there is always a way out. And life can get better.
But in order to get better, in order to leave the past behind, you have to fight. You have to hold your head high and know that there is a purpose for breathing at this very moment. There is always an open invitation of grace waiting for you in the pierced hands of a man who gave himself up for all humanity.
My name is Brandon Ryan, I am 23 years of age. I was born with Cerebral Palsy. Let me tell you right up front, I have been through Hell and back. I have scars all over my body, scars that tell a story of pain, grief, and imperfection. I have struggled through out my life, and I have searched for the deepest desires of my heart. To be loved, to have a sense of self worth, to be accepted and wake up every morning with a hope that never, never dies. I have questioned my exsistence and why it is that I am given breath every single second I am alive. And the only answer I can give you that makes any sense at all, is love. A man gave his life, for me, because he first loved me. Even when I hated myself. He has gave me a new life, a life that is full of purpose, awe and wonder. To have this love means everything to me, but it started with a choice. One choice, to hand over all the pain, the depression, the thoughts of suicide, the envy and all things that we humans deal with, to have a life full of grace and a life that will not only get better now, but for all enternity. I am on a journey, and I hope you will choose to walk along side me.
The pain creeps up on us when we least expect it. And it only attacks certain people at certain times, often targeting the hurt during the seasons or holidays associated with dark memories.
Are we nearsighted? Have we become blind to suicide, the third leading cause of death among teenagers? Have we lost sight of how precious and valuable life is? Can we even put a finger on the causes for such pain and agony? Is it good versus evil? Is it the consequence of our parents’ sin? Or is it because of our sins?
I never chose to be born with Cerebral Palsy. Everyone told me, “You are someone special.” Like when someone drags their fingernails across a chalkboard, it got under my skin when people would tell me, “Its how God made you Brandon.” It felt like getting struck with an arrow in the heart.
It is human nature to want to ignore pain or to hold on to it. When we hurt, we long for justice, but often grab revenge. We want the one who hurt us to feel the pain we did.
Life is all around us—life is going on all the time. People die, babies are born, leaves fall off trees, and sometimes snow hits the ground. Life is frustrating. We might not understand all its mysteries or why certain things happen. But there are moments that shape our lives, moments that remain.
To me the word neighbor does not just mean someone next-door to you. Your neighbors are those with you in the sanctuary, your work place, the concert hall, or your local store. It’s the people all around you, and you can’t choose favorites. If you want to honestly love people, then there are no favorites.
I’ve lost track of how many stories I’ve heard about teenagers who, because of cliques, do not feel accepted in their churches. It seems like middle school or high school—you see people standing in their circles, talking to their select group of friends—while others sit in pews wondering what they even came to Church for.
