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Erez builds a Christmas tree Hi Yoocan family, Erez, and the Yoocan team wish a Merry Christmas to all who celebrate. Erez played and built his very own LEGO Christmas tree. He wanted to wish you all a Happy Christmas, may yoocandoanything with love ❤️

✨ Hi, my name is Izabela, @Izabela.dorn on Instagram. ☀ I have lymph girdle muscular dystrophy (type LGMD2A) and have been using a wheelchair for the past four years. I think it's important to acknowledge that for some disabled people - including myself - being disabled can be challenging both physically and mentally. However, that doesn't mean I'm an unhappy person. On the contrary- I love my life and live it to the fullest. For me, being disabled isn't black and white: ✨ I don't love my disability, but I lead a life full of love for my family, friends, myself, and life itself!! ✨ I'm not 'just' my disability, but it is part of me that I don't want people to pretend doesn't exist (aka "I don't even see your disability" comments unwelcome). ✨ I'm not some able-bodied person's inspiration, but I do face challenges in my life bravely and hope it can help and encourage others to do so too. With my Instagram account, I try to be the person 14-year-old Izabela would have wanted in her life when she felt lonely, weird, and isolated because she didn't know one single person who was disabled as well (either in real life or in the media). I want to help other disabled people feel they belong, that they are not alone, and that they are enough just the way they are - because I often didn't when I was younger. If I can educate able-bodied people and advocate for disabled rights along the way, I'd be even happier!

Live Life Proud In my world, mobility is fluid and ever-changing. As a person with disabilities, I've learned to embrace my irregularities and be proud of my ability to adapt to different situations. I’ve learned to be quite proud of these legs, as irregular as they may seem. I mean, the right one literally tried to kill me more than once and yet, here I am. Still standing. Well, most of the time. Living my best life climbing mountains, overcoming obstacles, winning races, rolling through parks, and loving every minute of it. Movement is movement, regardless of whether you’re standing or sitting. I’ve had so many moments in my life when I’ve felt pride: winning the Boston Marathon; winning the TCS NYC Marathon three times; becoming one of, if not the first woman to win the Boston Marathon and NYC Marathon in the same year; facing my fears to film with Girls on the Run, Now Foods, Milk, and PBS; competing just days after unexpectedly losing my mom; overcoming on-course challenges and adapting to the right here and right now. Those are all moments I am extremely proud of. But when it comes to my proudest moment, crawling to the summit of Killington Mountain for the Spartan Beast in September 2022 takes the cake. I stopped caring about how I looked or what people thought and fought for the finish - authentically and unapologetically. I suffered beyond measure that day and I loved EVERY SINGLE moment. I knew going in I could not stop moving if I wanted to beat the time cutoff. I passed able-bodied athletes on the mountain and kept grinding for nearly 13 hours, stopping for a cumulative total of 12 minutes, only to walk away with a finishers medal. A simple piece of metal hanging from a ribbon….and a whole heap of pride. Every morning we wake up, we decide how we live our lives. We get to choose how we’re going to take on every challenge. We get to choose if we give up or get up. And, believe it or not, there’s beauty in suffering. When we suffer, we grow. When we grow, we learn to push past our limits, overcome obstacles, and keep moving forward. Keep moving. Keep shining. Keep showing up and making yourself proud. We have the power to overcome any obstacle and make ourselves proud every day.

A child that was rejected, that is in all of us "Fourteen and a half years ago, my nephew's son, Erez Benjamin, was born. I remember the day of his birth, which was supposed to be a celebration but turned into a tragedy. When he entered the world, his entire body was covered in black dots, even on his face. The nurses in the delivery room placed him in his mother's arms and left the room. They probably didn't know how to deal with the terrifying phenomenon of a child covered in more black spots than one could imagine. I was there, and I remember the look on the parent's faces when the doctors told them that the condition was unknown and they hadn't found any diagnosis in their examinations. They also estimated that Erez Benjamin had no more than three months to live, as his condition was intense and devastating, like burning wounds in the soul. The sunny afternoon that was supposed to be bright and joyful turned into a dark cloud over our beautiful family. There was a circumcision ceremony that wasn't talked about much, and I was the godfather. I held in my hands a child with numerous black dots, from which beautiful eyes shone as if they were crying out to the world, "I'm not to blame." Years passed, and the child didn't experience a carefree childhood, at least not outside the house. So they simply hid the dots with the child in the house. There was nothing to say, no one to talk to, nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. Just to wait and mark the wall with my fingernails, another year passing by, and another year like a scream from a broken soul to the doctors who didn't believe in this child, giving him only three months to live, while he insisted on proving them wrong. Since then, the family has experienced waves of depression and broken spirits, with a lot of soul-searching, asking why and how. Why us? Where did we go wrong? They found themselves sinking into a whirlpool of turbulent waters that seemed to want to drown the entire family. Until one day, in the middle of the street, when Erez's mother took him for a walk in the neighborhood, despite everything, one girl said to her mother, "Look, Mom, what an ugly and disgusting child!" It could have ended there, but Erez's mother started laughing... and it was a turning point in the life of the family, especially the mother, Ruthie, who realized that in the whirlpool of turbulent waters, you can't fight against the current. You must close your eyes and sink with the stream to the depths, not fight the swirling movement leading to the abyss. Only then can you rise and emerge into the light. Because fighting against the current that pulls you into the depths of the sea of nerves and heartache is simply drowning. And so, the mother decided to break the silence and not remain silent anymore. She started to shout and cry out, sharing her sorrow with everyone who came before her. And then suddenly, the story of the child with the dots became a national issue, discussed throughout the country. The entire country photographed themselves with spots on their faces, and everyone called themselves Erez. Fourteen and a half years have passed since then. Last year, I was at Erez's bar mitzvah (yes, the same boy they gave three months to live). He stood before the Torah, and his father didn't say the customary blessing of "Blessed be He who has exempted me from his punishment," but rather said, "Thank you!" That's what Erez's father said about a child sent to us all straight from the angels to be the mentor of understanding the different and the non-conventional. A mentor primarily for his mother, Ruthie, who, with forces, she didn't know she had, turned her mental distress into a tremendous revelation of the beauty of the human soul that pierces the skies. She told her story about the book that she wrote, which revealed to everyone with courage how her child with the dots came into the world to be a mentor for all of us, teaching us to accept the unique and non-conventional. I attended a play at the Gushen Theater (Israeli Theater) called "The Boy with the Dots", and this is according to Erez's story, written by Ruthie. I don't remember ever being so excited during a show as I was this time when I saw a child with dots running on the stage and "bewildering" the audience at first, a child with dots that caused his sister to say that she is his "guardian angel," and he in no way treats her as a sister, a child who is an angel that we are ashamed of without him being guilty... I saw a dazzling display of colors, all the colors in the world, where the black is engulfed within them and not felt at all. Around me, many people shed uncontrollable tears because it's a story of a rejected child, like many of us, and it sometimes ends in isolation and sometimes in suicide. What I saw at the Goshen Theater was not just another performance, but a celebration of triumph over surrender and faith in the human spirit, a performance that is a lesson in acceptance and understanding of others, for those who may not appear like us. It deserves to be embraced wholeheartedly with a love that knows no bounds. The play is about a child with dots whose strength lies in his weakness, and whose soul, which resides within him, is more important than the body it inhabits." Taken from Yehoram Gaon's official Facebook page. Yehoram is a famous Israeli actor and singer, and the brother of Yoav Gaon's late father. Yoav is of course the father of Erez.

How It All Started In 2017, Amin and Jed started a project called Blue Heart Hero They design open-source 3D printable solutions to the everyday struggles of those with disabilities. Quickly, they realized the problem lies in the design of objects and not people’s visible or hidden different capabilities. They sent out 250 early samples of the CURVD® mug and the feedback was overwhelming: “I can hug my mug”, “My arthritis hand can hold it”, “What a comfortable firm grip”, and "My cafe can serve a wider audience with this". The Human-Friendly mug became one of the Top 100 Designs of the Innovation Magazine in 2021 and was featured in Yanko Design as “the product that changes the status quo and breaks the bias.” About CURVD CURVD® designs beautifully ergonomic products for all people regardless of their capabilities. CURVD® exists to empower lives through ergonomic design, aesthetics, accessibility, and premium materials. Whether one is able to do any activity, or partially capable, CURVD® products are for everybody. The CURVD Mug What sets the CURVD® mug part is its award-winning large handle, which distributes the weight of your drink to your muscles, reducing strain on your joints. This innovative design makes our mug accessible to a broader range of people, including the elderly and those with disabilities, creating a more inclusive coffee experience for all. Not only is the CURVD® mug designed for optimal ergonomics, but it also boasts a sleek and stylish appearance that complements any home or office décor. The printable sublimation coating on the mug provides endless possibilities for customization, making it an ideal personal treat, branded merchandise, or thoughtful gift for a friend. Experience the weightless comfort of your coffee with the CURVD® ergonomic mug. Order now and discover the perfect balance of form and function – the ultimate addition to any coffee lover's collection.

Living with Spinal Muscular Atrophy type 3 Hi my name is Jason Raposo. I am 35 years old and live in Canada. I have a condition called Spinal Muscular Atrophy type 3. I was officially diagnosed in my teen years. Spinal muscular atrophy makes your muscles get weaker over time and you slowly lose abilities as time goes by. Growing up with SMA was hard because as a child you didn’t understand why you couldn’t do some of the things others kids can do effortlessly. I always had a passion for sports as a kid and it never stopped me from playing any. I had to work a bit harder to keep up. Having Spinal Muscular Atrophy eventually changed my mindsets. The first one is gratitude. I am grateful for all the things I am able to do. I realize that I may struggle with certain aspects in life but I am able to do everything in one way or another. The second mindset developed was a no quit/self pity attitude. I accepted the hand I was dealt and made the best of it. I live with no regrets and hope to inspire other people with disabilities to live there lives to the fullest. Follow my journey @jason_raposo7 on Instagram

I Have A Rare Disease Called Recessive Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa Inversa After I was born, my mother was told that I had a condition that would not allow me to live. I would surely die at eighteen, but in the meantime, my skin would be so fragile that my life would be spent in isolation. I have Recessive Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa Inversa, a condition so rare that you have a greater chance of being struck by lightning than being born with it. It is a genetic condition, so you cannot catch it by being near me like so many seem to think. Due to a lack of collagen seven, the anchoring fibril that anchors your top layer of skin to your bottom layer of skin, my skin can be very fragile. It causes my body to erupt in open wounds and blisters that resemble burn wounds. And it is meant to get worse, not better. An Eight Letter Word: Terminal That is what I have always been told since I was too little to understand what "terminal" meant. I knew how to recite this word for people who asked me what my condition was, I knew how to spell it even, but as I continued to grow and live with this label, I finally understood what it meant. I was not supposed to be around- my condition was meant to kill me. So why was I still alive? How? After a series of throat surgeries I needed to save my life, I began to pursue my higher education. I moved countries from Texas to the UK and began studying in London at Sotheby's Institute of Art and Birkbeck College. I began to write about my experience with RDEB, to raise awareness. This awareness is what we need for a cure, a cure that may finally remove the "terminal" label that follows me. To my shock, people listened to what I had to say- my first article was published in the Huffington post before my eighteenth birthday. As I progressed in my life, accepting my offer at the University of St Andrews, I felt claustrophobic under the weight of the word "terminal". I decided that although my words were important, to understand the effects of my condition people must see it for themselves, see my scars and therefore my life. So I began to model lingerie, much to my mother's joy. I have since walked in a fashion show, will appear in Sophia Mayanne's Behind the Scars Project on Instagram and will be campaigning for Jeans for Genes- among many other exciting things. These shoots have appeared in publications such as The Daily Mail, The New York Post, The Mirror and many others. My scars have turned from something that brought me shame into something that brings me to hope daily- I am proud of them, I am honored to display my strength on my body. Every day I will continue to speak, to advocate and raise awareness until I never have to fear a birthday again. Soon I will be twenty-one. I want to further my career as an Art Historian and Classicist, I want to travel with my boyfriend and show my brother and sister the country I now call home. I want to live. And I have many more things to say in the meantime. Photo by Sophie Mayanne for her Behind the Scars project on Instagram

Evolution My Name is Maggie :) I actually get my name from my first encounter with the fact that sometimes my body does things I don’t have control over. I was born 2 months early and both my amazing mother and I were very “sick” at the time... my mother was placed on a medication called Magnesium, and my amazing father said: let’s call her Maggie! As I approached my first year of life here, my parents noticed I was struggling to walk. My dad recalls that I would reach for things in an effort to stand but I could not. I cried a lot. My father is a physician and during this time found himself at a conference on Spina Bifida. He realized I had it, and soon after I had a de-tethering surgery and walked days after. In the years to come, my body decided to grow sideways. Despite bracing and PT, my scoliosis began to impede upon my lung function as a 13-year-old. I had spinal fusion surgery at 14. In my adolescent and young adult years after that, I flip-flopped between feelings of self-pity, anger, guilt, superiority, gratitude, etc. Ultimately, though, I found myself not respecting my body as I felt it had not respected me. This conflict between my body and I created lots of conflict between me and other humans, who always supported and loved me unconditionally. But I did not love me with this “condition” and thus was very sad. As a 28-year-old, beautiful woman today, I am blessed and grateful to say: I love my body and my body loves me. I love the scar that lines my back. I love the fact that my shoulder blades stick out so much that a friend of mine calls them my angel wings. I love the fact that in my current role as a Nurse, I am able to truly feel both the physical and emotional pain that others feel as their bodies change. I love the fact that I am truly blessed to have this body. This body allows me to comfort others, and in doing so I’ve found the ultimate source of self-comfort. This body allows me to snuggle with my family, my friends, and my dogs — who I know will always be there for me regardless of what may or may not happen within my body in the years to come.

Hi my name is Dionte Christian and my goal is to inspire people. I have Cerebral Palsy and for a long time I did not like myself. My father tried to kill me by severing my head from my body when I was 9 years old, but I forgive him and keep pushing forward because the things God put us through just make us stronger. So I started to drink and I did that for 10 years, and one day I just started to pray and ask God to send me a sign of what I was supposed to be doing with my life. He told me to inspire people so what I'm telling the people that are going to read this is don't ever stop believing in yourself because, if you be consistent and stay focused you can do anything because the only person stopping you is you.

Perspective can be an enlightening thing and therefore I present you this metaphor. It caught fire amongst some bloggers a while back and I've been pondering the scenario as a way to present a truth many deal with every day. Open your mind and consider: Imagine everything in your house is on fire, and you’re standing there in the middle of your yard and the fire department comes and says to you, "Describe the fire to me and maybe we can find what caused it. We'll worry about putting it out after that" (The writer acknowledges that the best time to get coherent information about the roots of the chaos, might NOT be at the height of said crisis) but I digress..... So you say, "Well the fire in the curtains is the biggest but the fire in the photo albums is more important to me. I mean, there's a fire in the couch, which is really inconvenient but I've got used to not using a couch. I mean, one can sit on other things" The fireman says, "Oh. I wouldn’t worry, photo album fires just happen sometimes. Now your TV is on, so it might be electronic, but that would cause other things like fire in the DVD player. But neither of those are burning......" Now I know this sounds crazy, but hang in there with me When this metaphor hit my social media, here are some of the responses that others who have to deal with "fire" have heard from the same department: voices "Water can do a lot of damage. It's risky, and you're going to be in this house for a long time yet, so we want you to try smothering the fires with heavy blankets first since that's less damaging. It won't stop the burning, but it will make the smoke less annoying for others." "We don't want to use water to douse the fire, people get dependent on water when their house keeps burning. Have you tried thinking mindfully about the fire?" Some suggest that maybe the fire department could put the fire out on the things they care about, but since they don't know what keeps starting them, they'll just catch on fire again. The fire chief replies "little fires aren't a problem if the roof in not on fire. People have worse fires." When their request for assistance with this fire isn't getting anywhere, one wonders if maybe coping with them alone might be a solution, though dealing with fire all the time really cuts into getting things done in a day. Bosses don't really care about personal fires, so long as one isn't burning at work. Friends are distressed by the smoke and want to understand. Well-meaning friend: "Fires are the WORST. Sometimes the bonfire in my backyard gets a little out of control." You look back at the hoses and axes and think, maybe they're right, some people are freezing to death, you should be grateful you have fire. Flabbergasted, the fireman finally concedes "Look, I can only handle one fire per call. I can douse the couch fire for now, and check back with us later if you just HAVE to worry about those photo albums." Adding "Beware of the firefighting techniques advocated by other people with their own fires on the Internet. They're not trained, firefighters. Their advice could be dangerous." So now what? It's odd that now there is shame in being on fire. One professional's look and criminal intent is focused on the sheer audacity of not just burning in silence. It's a cry for attention. An excuse to not go to work. A bid to rid oneself of personal responsibility. Doubt creeps in, is the fire real? Subconsciously am I an arsonist? If the flames aren't imaginary then water should work, and if it doesn't then what? Deprive it of oxygen, smother it, douse it in chemicals. Use implements to remove it from the whole? Sometimes all that seems to happen is a fire wall's built to contain the inferno, as the fuel, the energy, is consumed. *The writer acknowledges those words in italics as inspired by those of the blog's post followers, and gratitude for their honesty. The victims have been given notice, laid off, discharged in moral opprobrium, before their conflagration effects all.

My life with FSHD I am Tali (@rollwithasmileblog), and I have FSHD (Facioscapulohumeral Muscular Dystrophy). The first symptoms appeared about 15 years ago, at 25, and I was officially diagnosed in 2009. FSHD is a muscle wasting disease that affects people of all ages and genders. Most commonly affected are facial, shoulder and upper arm muscles, but other skeletal muscles also gradually weaken and in 20% of cases, people require a wheelchair. Currently, there is no cure or treatment available. The tricky thing with this disease is that it operates in bursts of deterioration, followed by periods of no change. With every burst, you become weaker, you lose another physical ability, another part of independence. With every burst, you need to reassess your life, make adjustments, learn to accept and love your new self. With every burst, you can’t escape the dark thoughts about the future; what kind of life quality will you have or how it will affect your loved ones. Every time the disease pauses, you become hopeful that that’s it, it will not get worse but there is always the fear that it will. Over the last 15 years, my life has totally changed. From being an independent, career-oriented woman with a full social calendar, I am fully dependent on caregivers and mobility aids, unable to work or maintain an active lifestyle anymore. It has been an endless cycle of shock-mourning-adjustments-acceptance but every time I came out a little bit stronger, more humble and more accepting of me. The biggest realization for me on this journey is that everything is a choice. Not an easy one sometimes, but a choice. Every day I choose to look at the positive, to enjoy life and my loved ones while I can, to love myself and take care of my body even if it has failed me, to learn from the hardships and better myself. I choose to be HAPPY!

A new kind of normal On the eve of my dads one year anniversary from a near death accident and after his birthday, I want him to be recognized for the journey we never knew we would witness him go through. I was in living in Paris at the time I received a call from my mom an alarmingly unusual hour. Her face said it all. My dad was outside of his car getting something from his trunk when a truck going 70-75 MPH conjoined my dad’s body to the back of his car and front of another. One leg came off immediately and the other was amputated due to spread of infection. He was in a 2 week coma, suffered from a lost kidney, fractured ribs...you name it, he broke it. I couldn’t explain the heartache myself and my family went through but what I can proudly give credit to is his courage. Almost one year later and my dad is a couple months shy of walking. He never gave up despite his setbacks or gave in to a pity party. Rather, he inspires others with his endless determination to get up every day. My dad is less limb than most but he embodies more faith and will than anyone I know. He wronged the doctors timing on when and IF he’ll be able to walk and I have no doubt he’ll get farther than what he would have before given he had his legs. Because I know my father would want those who are in a similar situation to know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, I'll give you the advice he's told me throughout the years. He's a man of simple yet effective words of advice! "If you want something bad enough, you just somehow have to make it happen." His will to walk without legs is a testament to just that. We are so proud of you Dad!