A bit about myself and how I came to want to help children with disabilities. Of course, it didn’t happen overnight. Many years ago, I was just like any other healthy young person. I lived, studied, went into the army, served, and when I came back, I started working, like everyone else. I met a girl, we started living together, had a child, and I went to sea, where I sustained a head injury. Like most young people, I thought it would pass on its own, though I sensed something was changing in my head.

Back on land, people told me I moved strangely, but I brushed it off, saying I’d just been at sea, where there’s constant rocking, and I’d adjust soon. I went back to sea for another six months, and that’s when I started realizing something was really wrong. At times, I’d lose strength in my hands, and during one heavy lifting task, my leg gave out. My strength eventually returned, but only temporarily. After that trip, I returned to shore and went to see a doctor, who referred me to a neurologist. There, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I lost my family afterward, but I didn’t give up, continuing to focus on personal growth and on recovering my health.

Fifteen years have passed since then. Every year, walking has become more difficult, and one day I managed to make it upstairs to my apartment but have barely left since. At that point, I was diagnosed with the first stage of disability. Before I stopped going out, I began noticing people around me who, like me, needed help—people with limited abilities. Healthy people often miss this in the rush of everyday life, not realizing how many people around them need support.

Sitting at home watching TV and browsing the internet, I gradually came to the realization that I want to help children with disabilities. They have so much life ahead of them, yet many of them have never even experienced a proper childhood.