9 years and counting

On June 21st, 2005 my life changed forever. I lost the use of my legs that day and with it, my identity. I initially felt degraded by my disability and desperately wanted my old life back. What I didn't realize at the time was that I could still be an athlete and while many doors closed, others would open up. Fortunately, I had an amazing support team of health professionals, friends and families that helped me find myself again and gain the perspective I have today.

Every year on June 21st, I'm reminded of that life changing event and emotions from that day tend to find their way back into my heart. I'm not proud of it, but on that day, without fail, a piece of me misses my old life and dreams of what could've been. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I try to go about my day recognizing the amazing life I'm currently blessed with and all the opportunities ahead of me.

This year, I chose a special way to spend my anniversary. On June 21st, 2014 Donny and I rode in our first Para-Dressage Show. I couldn't think of a better way to spend the day that reminds me of loss than to celebrate with all that I've found. While Donny and I made plenty of mistakes that day in the ring (62.5%), it was the most empowering experience for me. Not once did I want my old life back and my gratitude for all those who helped me get to that point was almost overwhelming. I can't wait to see where Donny and I are June 21st, 2015 to celebrate the 10th year of my new life.

Donny and I after our Para Ib Individual Test

"Life has no limitations, except the ones you make."

In the ICU at Santa Clara Valley Medical Center a few days after my accident.

This past summer I had the opportunity to work as an OT intern at the University of Utah's inpatient neuro rehab. Over the weeks I had a lot of patients and therapists ask me about my early experiences and reaction to paralysis. While I doubt I'll ever forget the initial conversation I had with the doctor, I thought I'd write it down and share with others. 

I remember lying in the hospital bed waiting for someone to tell me what the damage was and thinking, "Well, I'm out for the season, but if I work real hard, I could probably be back to compete at the next nationals." When the doctor came in and said, "You broke your back, severed your spinal cord, and you'll never walk again", I didn't know how to react. It couldn't be real. The nurse in the room started crying. My grandfather came in next and he cried too. My boyfriend followed by my teammates and coaches came into the room to offer their support. 

I remember not really being able to grasp what the doctor had said, but that I needed three questions answered. I asked, "Will I be able to have children?" He quickly responded, "Yes, you still have the capability to bear children." My next question was slightly vain, but I asked, "Will I have to wear a diaper?" Luckily, he responded with a "no". And last, but not least, was the question I was almost afraid to ask.. "Can I still ride?" There was an awkward silence in the room and the doctor didn't know how to respond. One of my coaches, Teresa Keville, spoke up instead. "Yes, Sweetie, we will find a way for you to ride." 

I don't remember much else from that day, except the comfort of knowing I'd be alright and that horses would still be a part of my life. I'm grateful for the many individuals, like Teresa, who helped shape my perspective from the beginning of my life in a wheelchair. I've come to believe the words of Les Brown "Life has no limitations, except the ones you make." And if you want something bad enough, you'll find a way.

My Occupational Therapist and I on my last day in the hospital (please excuse the vaulting hoodie on backwards)

Miss Fire Opal and I (I always wear a helmet as I'm a safety freak, just not in this photo shoot. Apologies)