molly-kennedy

Discovering Leadership in Unexpected Places

Fri, 22 May 2026 01:27:38 GMT

Discovering Leadership in Unexpected Places

I didn’t always have the language for leadership—but I was living it.

My first real taste of having an impact beyond myself came during my sophomore year in college. I was elected as a member of the Residential Council. The purpose of the council was to create a rich experience for students living on campus—through social activities, educational programming, and building a sense of community.

At first, it felt like an opportunity to be involved.

But it became so much more.

As part of serving on the Residential Council, we were required to take a semester-long leadership course. It was one of the most impactful courses I took in college. Up until that point, I had been leading in my own life—I had been advocating for my needs, navigating systems, and pushing through barriers.

But this course expanded my understanding.

It taught me that leadership is not just about advocating for yourself. It is about creating impact for others.

That shift was powerful.

For the first time, I began to see myself not just as someone overcoming challenges, but as someone who could influence experiences, create opportunities, and contribute to a larger community.

In a world that didn’t always expect me to dream—let alone lead—I was actively doing both.

Redefining What Is Possible

That experience changed how I saw myself.

I realized that leadership is not defined by how others see you—it is defined by how you show up. It is built through action, through involvement, and through the willingness to step into spaces where you may not have been expected.

And that is what dreaming does.

It pushes you into places where your presence alone begins to challenge assumptions.

It shows others—and yourself—that you are capable of more than what was imagined for you.

The Garden Doesn’t Wait

Mon, 11 May 2026 19:40:40 GMT

The Garden Doesn't Wait.

Nobody tells you that growing is hard work.

We hear the word “bloom” and picture flowers, effortlessly showing up bright and on time. But real growth happens in soil that isn’t always soft or ideal. Blooming happens even during seasons when you might not feel ready, or when weeds crowd you out, and bugs test your patience.

I’ve had periods in my life where I didn’t feel like I was growing as a leader. I felt stuck and overlooked, and certain the conditions surrounding me weren’t designed for me to thrive. There were many moments where I allowed that narrative to keep me small.

Being a leader, though, has helped me see that the place you’re currently at is simply a starting point.

Some of the best leaders I know didn’t start in the right room. They didn’t always have confidence or access to the right resources. But the important thing for these leaders, and for you, if you wish to be a leader, is that they started.

They used the resources they had and grew in unexpected and wonderful ways by letting their circumstances work for them rather than waiting for the perfect moment to appear.

Even flowers don’t bloom without effort. They require weeding, pruning, watering, and care, even during fallow seasons, in order to bloom so brilliantly in the warmer weather. As a leader, you’ll want to bloom where you’re planted: Choosing yourself and your purpose, rather than settling for your current moment or waiting for the perfect moment to appear in the future.

The weeds and bugs of life are part of the process of growing, but they don’t determine your growth; you do. So wherever you’re at in your journey, put roots down, show up fully, and lead from there.

Stop Spending Your Energy on Things That Don't Deserve It

Wed, 29 Apr 2026 19:34:41 GMT

Stop Spending Your Energy on Things That Don't Deserve It

If you are a leader with a disability, then you already know this truth better than most: Energy is a resource. And like any resource, it can run out.

In the disability and chronic illness communities, this is often referred to as the Spoon Theory. The idea is simple: You start each day with a limited number of "spoons," and every task, every challenge, every stressor costs you one spoon. Some days you start with fewer spoons, while other days you have a lot of spoons. Either way, once the spoons are gone, so is your energy.

The Small Stuff Adds Up

It's hardly ever just one thing that drains us. It’s often the build-up of the ableist comment you’re still replaying three days later, or a person asking you to explain your disability for the fifth time this month. Some days, you may have fewer spoons due to pain or other symptoms that accompany your disability. Or everyday tasks may simply take you a bit longer than usual.

None of this is debilitating on its own, but it can chip away at our energy, especially when your body and mind already ask more of you than the average.

You Get to Decide What Gets Your Energy

You don't have to engage with everything that comes your way. Someone asks a personal question? You don't owe them an answer. Or if a situation feels draining and you can’t think of any immediate positive benefits that it provides, you’re allowed to step away.

By curtailing the energy you use on things that diminish you, you’ll wind up with more energy for tasks and situations that bring your joy and meaning.

Focus on What Fuels You

When I’m running low on energy, I like to think of the things that light me up, like my work as a leader and advocate. To me, these are the things that are worth protecting, as that’s where most of my energy comes from.

A Few Ways to Protect Your Spoons

Identify what drains you and be honest about why it depletes you
Figure out what ignites you. What fills you back up? Let that guide your decisions
Practice saying no. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. If an event or task will take away your energy and doesn’t provide you with benefits in exchange, you can decline to participate.
Educate only when you want to. You can be a leader, but that doesn't mean you're in charge of explaining your disability to everyone who asks a question. And in particular, there’s no need for you to explain yourself to people who aren’t truly listening and engaging in a caring and supportive way.

Having limited energy doesn’t mean living a limited life. I live a very fulfilling life, but it’s all about being smarter about how you direct your energy. Your job is to protect enough of yourself to show up fully for what matters.

Spend your spoons wisely.

Dreams on Full Blast

Tue, 14 Apr 2026 23:08:50 GMT

Dreams On Full Blast

I would not be sitting here writing this blog if I did not have dreams.

Dreams have been the jet fuel of my life. They are what lifted me when expectations were low, when barriers felt high, and when it would have been easier to shrink instead of soar. Dreams gave my life direction. They gave it purpose. They gave it fire.

When you are born with a disability, the world can quietly — and sometimes loudly — suggest that you should limit your dreams. Social barriers, lowered expectations, and subtle doubts can make you question what is realistic. You begin to wonder if dreaming big is irresponsible… or worse, impossible.

I felt that pressure.

But I made a decision early on: I would not let my disability limit my dreaming. I turned my dreaming on full blast.

Yes, I accepted that I would face challenges. I understood that barriers were part of my reality. But I refused to let those challenges shrink my vision. Instead, I incorporated them into how I dreamed. My disability became part of the strategy — not the ceiling.

I dreamed of going to college.

I dreamed of building a professional career.

I dreamed of living fully and independently.

Those dreams were not abstract wishes. They became anchors. They gave me confidence when I felt underestimated. They gave me courage when I walked into rooms where expectations were already written for me. They pushed me to show — not just tell — the world that I was capable.

Dreaming did not remove the obstacles. It gave me the strength to confront them.

Not every dream I’ve had has come true. Some quietly faded. Some transformed into something different than I imagined. And that is part of the journey too. Dreams are not contracts; they are invitations. They invite you to grow, to stretch, to discover who you are becoming along the way.

And that is the real gift.

Everyone has the right to dream. No one should have the authority to shrink your vision for your life. Dreams are not reserved for the able-bodied, the privileged, or the already successful. They belong to all of us.

Some dreams will be achieved. Some will evolve. Some may never materialize the way you hoped. But the power is not just in the outcome — it is in the courage to take the dream journey and see where it leads.

For me, dreaming was never optional. It was survival. It was leadership. It was identity.

And it still is.

Dreams Kept Me From Drifting

Thu, 09 Apr 2026 17:58:33 GMT

Dreams Kept Me From Drifting

Without dreams, I truly believe I would have drifted through life — reacting instead of leading, accepting instead of defining. Dreams gave me direction when the current of society tried to carry me somewhere smaller.

Living with a disability, I was very aware that society — and even parts of the service system — would be comfortable defining me for me. Labels were ready. Boxes were prepared. Expectations were already set.

But I learned something early: if I did not define who I was, someone else would. And their version of me would likely be limited.

It became my responsibility to decide who I was and what my purpose would be.

Growing up in a large family with many siblings turned out to be one of my greatest gifts. I watched my brothers and sisters dream boldly. I saw them make plans, choose schools, imagine careers, and step into lives they designed for themselves. Dreaming was normal in my house. It was expected.

So naturally, my earliest dreams were shaped by theirs.

I wanted to follow in their footsteps. I wanted to attend a private Catholic school. I wanted the same opportunities. I did not want a separate version of education because I had a disability. I wanted what they had — the full experience.

And I got it.

But that decision came with discomfort.

There were moments when I clearly did not “fit.” Some teachers told me directly that I did not belong there. They suggested I would be better off in a school designed only for students with disabilities. Those words could have easily planted doubt deep inside me.

Thankfully, my parents were unwavering. They kept telling me I was exactly where I needed to be. They believed in my ability before I fully understood it myself. Their confidence strengthened my own.

Still, belief alone was not enough. I had to bring courage into the classroom every day. I had to work hard — sometimes harder — to prove, mostly to myself, that I could do the work and graduate from those schools.

And I did.

In achieving within that environment, I discovered something powerful: I had strengths. Real strengths. Not “in spite of” my disability, but alongside it. I realized I was capable of learning, adapting, and persevering. That discovery gave me more than a good education — it gave me self-knowledge.

Understanding my strengths early in life became the foundation for bigger dreams. Once I knew what I was capable of, I no longer dreamed just to keep up. I began dreaming to make an impact.

Dreams stopped being about comparison and started being about purpose.

They gave my life depth. They added richness. They allowed me not just to participate in life, but to shape it.

And that is why dreams matter so much to me. They kept me from drifting. They kept me from shrinking. They helped me build a life defined not by limits — but by intention.

A Full and Deeply Meaningful Experience at Abilities Expo

Tue, 07 Apr 2026 19:48:24 GMT

A Full and Deeply Meaningful Experience

at Abilities Expo

This past weekend, I attended Abilities Expo , an event focused on disability products, tech, and resources, in Los Angeles, and left feeling included, seen, and welcomed.

I hope every person with a disability can experience being in a space designed with disability at the forefront. My shoulders immediately relaxed when I entered the Abilities Expo. Throughout the event, I was surrounded by people who understood the daily realities of navigating a world that wasn’t designed with us in mind.

Sometimes, as a person with a disability, I over-explain and overcompensate to fit in. But at Abilities Expo, I belonged just as I am, with no explanations required. As someone who grew up feeling like the odd one out, that matters immensely.

One of my favorite parts of the weekend was connecting with the wonderful people and organizations doing meaningful work in the disability space. I met the teams behind EasterSeals SoCal, New Mobility Magazine , The Rollettes, and Courageous Comics . The presence of these organizations, and their collective missions, shows that disability culture is powerful and thriving! Seeing innovative tech tools designed for people with disabilities was also deeply meaningful and exciting.

I loved connecting with my community at Abilities Expo. It showed the deep support the disabilities community provides, and was also a reminder that people with disabilities can live full, self-determined lives.

Why Independence Was My Key to a Full Life

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 02:56:55 GMT

Why Independence Was My Key to a Full Life

Growing up with cerebral palsy, I didn’t know what independence looked like for me. For a long time, I defined independence as doing everything on my own. This meant not asking for help or accommodations. To me, needing support seemed like the opposite of being independent.

That meant for years, I sought to adapt to a world that wasn’t designed with disabilities in mind. I pushed myself to keep up and stay quiet about my struggles, just to prove I was as capable as my peers. The truth was that I was capable, but I grew exhausted trying to operate like an able-bodied person in a disabled body. Instead of living the life I wanted, I was trying to fit in and live the life others expected from me.

Everything shifted when I began to consider that what independence meant for me was the freedom to live a full, productive life. Once I gave myself permission to need things that able-bodied people might not require, everything changed. I realized my goals, dreams, and voice were mine to use — not someone else’s. Refusing to live by able-bodied standards or let others determine what I did and did not need was incredibly freeing. With this new framework steering my life, I became more productive, more purposeful, and more me.

I’ve built my career around helping others find this same independence. I deeply believe that when people with disabilities are given the space and support to lead their own lives, incredible things happen.

If you're navigating this round to independence, I'm here to cheer you on as someone who knows just how challenging it can be to grasp the reins and seize control of your journey. And, if you find that you need a helping hand, reach out. With person-centered planning , I'll help you craft a plan to identify and support your goals.

My Disability Is My Superpower

Fri, 27 Feb 2026 22:20:14 GMT

My Disability Is My Superpower

For much of my life, people saw my cerebral palsy as a limitation. A diagnosis. A descriptor placed before my name. Today, I see it differently.

As a disability advocate and consultant, I understand that living with cerebral palsy has shaped my resilience, creativity, leadership skills, and professional strengths. My disability is not only part of my identity, but it’s also one of my greatest assets.

Reframing disability as a superpower does not ignore the real challenges of cerebral palsy. It recognizes the strengths that develop because of those challenges. People with disabilities constantly navigate systems that were not designed for us. From inaccessible spaces to rigid workplace expectations, daily life requires adaptation, and that adaptation builds resilience.

Resilience is not just perseverance. It is strategic flexibility and the ability to pivot, regulate emotions, and problem-solve under pressure. These are critical professional skills. In the workplace, resilience strengthens performance and leadership. Many employees with disabilities are skilled at contingency planning and creative thinking because we practice those abilities every day.

Living with cerebral palsy often means finding alternative ways to accomplish routine tasks, including adaptive tools, modified workflows, or new communication approaches. This constant adjustment strengthens innovation.

Creative problem-solving is a competitive advantage in business and advocacy. When traditional systems do not accommodate you, you learn to redesign them. That mindset fosters efficiency, independence, and strategic thinking.

Disability does not reduce capability; it often enhances ingenuity. Living with a disability deepens empathy since experiencing barriers firsthand increases awareness of inequity and exclusion. This empathy is a leadership advantage. Inclusive leaders anticipate obstacles, prioritize accessibility, and build stronger teams. Disability advocacy grows from this perspective. Personal experience becomes fuel for systemic change. Don’t get me wrong: living with cerebral palsy comes with obstacles, and there are challenges and frustrations.

But disability is not weakness.

Living with cerebral palsy has made me adaptable, resourceful, resilient, and creative. These qualities strengthen my work as a disability advocate and professional. When we shift the narrative from limitation to strength, we change how society understands disability.

My cerebral palsy is not something that holds me back. It is a source of power that pushes me forward.

When Ambition Helps Others

Fri, 13 Feb 2026 19:47:51 GMT

When Ambition Helps Others

Ambition is loud when it’s only about proving something. It can feel like pressure. Like you always have to be more.

But ambition becomes powerful when it’s used to help others. When you aim your goals toward making the world a little better, your work starts to mean more. It’s not just about you anymore.

Real ambition isn’t about winning or being noticed. It’s about using what you have to open doors, help people, and create change. When you do that, success feels shared. And that’s when ambition turns into purpose.

Choosing to Dream in a World That Isn't Always Kind

Fri, 06 Feb 2026 15:04:28 GMT

Choosing to Dream in a World That Isn't Always Kind

“The world can be unkind, but we don’t have to reflect that cruelty. We can choose.”

For many of us, especially within the disability community, this choice isn’t abstract. It’s personal, and most of the time, it isn’t easy.

Dreaming is often framed as something optional, but for people with disabilities, dreaming can be an act of power. Not the kind of dreaming that ignores barriers or pretends everything is possible if you “try hard enough,” but the kind that says:

I still get to imagine a life rooted in dignity, joy, and self-determination.

Choosing to dream doesn’t mean ignoring the systems that fail us, nor does it minimize pain, access issues, fatigue, or grief. It means refusing to let cruelty be the loudest voice shaping your future.

For young people, especially, this matters. When the world sends constant messages about limits, worth, or productivity, dreaming becomes a way to stay connected to yourself. It’s a reminder that you are allowed to hope. You are allowed to care about community and joy on your own terms.

None of this happens all at once. It shows up in ordinary days, in choices that do not make headlines, in moments that do not feel brave or inspiring while you are living them.

The world may still be unkind, but you are allowed to leave some of it behind.

Dream anyway.

A Well-Lived Life: Growing Through the Hard Stuff

Fri, 09 Jan 2026 20:36:05 GMT

A Well-Lived Life: Growing Through the Hard Stuff

If you’ve lived long enough to have a few scrapes, scars, belly laughs, and heartbreaks, then congratulations — you’re officially living a well-lived life. I’ve learned (often the hard way) that the moments that shape us most aren’t the shiny ones we pose for. They’re the messy ones. The moments we’d never frame or put in a scrapbook, but somehow they end up being the ones that matter most.

My life has included plenty of wins and more than a few tough breaks, and the tough breaks have been my greatest teachers. Navigating a world that wasn’t built with cerebral palsy in mind, pushing past low expectations, and insisting on a self-determined life didn’t come without effort. Those challenges weren’t the end of the story. They were the part that built my strength. They stretched me, tested me, and made the good moments feel earned. If you know my journey at all, you know I’ve dealt with bumps, barriers, and plain old ignorance. Every one of those experiences gave me an opportunity to grow a thicker skin and a stronger sense of who I am.

A well-lived life isn’t perfect, and it certainly isn’t smooth. It’s not supposed to be. It’s full of contrast. Joy and grief. Confidence and doubt. Success and disappointment. That back-and-forth is what gives life depth. Without the hard moments, the good ones wouldn’t feel nearly as meaningful. And without setbacks, we’d never learn how resilient we really are. Sometimes you even learn to laugh at yourself along the way — and trust me, a sense of humor helps.

The goal isn’t to avoid hardship. The goal is to let it shape you without shrinking you. To let the sad moments add perspective and the happy ones remind you why you keep going. A full life means owning all of it, not just the easy or polished parts.

So when life hands you something heavy, remember this: it still counts as part of a well-lived life. This is where growth happens. This is where character is built. And one day, you may look back and realize that while the challenge didn’t define you, it absolutely helped you become who you are.

And that, to me, is what it really means to live fully — showing up for all of it, with honesty, grit, and a whole lot of heart.

When Life Knocks You Down, Stay Down Until You Figure the Best Way to Pull Yourself Up

Fri, 26 Dec 2025 20:36:06 GMT

When Life Knocks You Down, Stay Down Until You Figure Out a Way to Get Up

When life knocks you down — and trust me, it will — everyone loves to shout, “Get back up! Keep moving! Power through!” as if resilience is some kind of Olympic sport where style points are awarded for how fast you bounce.

But here’s the truth I’ve learned the hard way: Sometimes the smartest, strongest thing you can do is just… stay down for a minute.

Not in defeat. Not in self-pity. But in strategy.

See, when I fall — and with my cerebral palsy gait, I’ve literally had years of practice — there’s this moment when I’m on the ground and everything gets quiet. And in that space, I get to choose: Do I pop up fast because the world expects it, or do I pause long enough to figure out how I want to rise?

That pause is power.

When you stay down long enough to gather information, catch your breath, check your wounds, and map out your next move, you’re not being weak — you’re being wise. You’re honoring the actual human experience of being knocked flat, instead of pretending you’re some kind of invincible cartoon superhero who feels no pain.

And here’s the plot twist: Every time I’ve stayed down long enough to think, I’ve stood up stronger, smarter, and more determined than the version of me who fell.

Life isn’t about how quickly you get up. It’s about how intentionally you rise.

So the next time life smacks you to the floor — stay down. Not forever. Not even for long. Just long enough to figure out the best, boldest, truest way to pull yourself back up.

That’s how you build a life with grit, grace, and a whole lot of stubborn courage.

And trust me… that combination can move mountains.

Don't Search for the Perfect Christmas Tree. Choose One With Character

Thu, 18 Dec 2025 20:36:07 GMT

Don't Search for the Perfect Christmas Tree. Choose One With Character

Every December, we convince ourselves we want to find the perfect Christmas tree. The tall one. The full one. The one with branches so symmetrical they look like they were styled by a professional. We scroll, we wander lots, we debate, we second-guess. And sometimes, we miss the point entirely. Because let’s be honest, perfect is overrated. Perfect is boring. Perfect doesn’t teach us much of anything.

The trees that catch my eye are the ones that lean a little to the left. The ones with a missing branch that somehow makes room for your favorite ornament. The ones that look like they’ve seen a few winters and lived to tell the tale. Those trees aren’t flawed, they’re experienced. And isn’t that a lot like us?

We spend so much of our lives trying to look the part. To smooth out the rough edges so we fit neatly into what the world expects. But life doesn’t work that way. Life bends us. It takes a branch here, stretches us there, and leaves us standing slightly crooked — but we're stronger for it.

I’ve learned this the long way. My life hasn’t followed a perfect blueprint, and I stopped wishing it would a long time ago. What it has given me is perspective, grit, humor, and a deep appreciation for stories, the kind you earn. That mindset didn’t come from chasing perfection, it came from accepting reality and choosing to decorate it anyway.

A Christmas tree with character doesn’t apologize for what it’s been through. It simply shows up, ready to be part of the celebration. It doesn’t ask if it’s enough. It just stands there, quietly saying, "This is who I am. Take it or leave it."

And here’s the magic: once you bring that tree home, once you string the lights and hang the ornaments — especially the ones with memories attached — you stop seeing what’s “wrong” with it. You start seeing why it’s perfect for you.

The holidays have a funny way of holding up a mirror. They remind us of who’s missing, what’s changed, and how much we’ve grown — often without realizing it. They ask us to sit with both joy and grief at the same table and pass the salt and pepper anyway. There’s nothing perfect about that, but there’s something deeply human in it.

So this season, I invite you to stop chasing perfect — whether it’s the tree, the meal, the family photo, or yourself.

Choose character, the stories. The version that’s real, resilient, and standing (maybe a little crooked).

Because in the end, the trees we remember most aren’t the flawless ones. They’re the ones that held the memories. And that’s where the real magic lives.