My Life Day

It's my Life Day tomorrow. 

For those who don't know, “Life Day” is the term often used by disabled folks to mark the anniversary of their injury or diagnosis. It adds a more positive light to what can often be a difficult date for a lot of people.

I only really learned about this term in the last couple of years. Following more disabled folks on social media gave me exposure to people celebrating their anniversary — and that was revolutionary to me. 

18 years from my accident, I celebrated my first Life Day last year. It was such a powerful and beautiful thing to reframe the day. Even while I held all the difficult and grieving feelings I have around my disability, there was also room to be joyful and to recognize everything that I've accomplished since. 

It was also an opportunity to acknowledge everything that my disability has given me. 

Because of my disability:

🌻 I'm more creative, innovative, and resourceful

🌻 I can see things from different perspectives 

🌻 I'm better at advocating for myself and others

🌻 I'm more empathetic

🌻 I have access to a beautiful, rich community 

🌻 It's rare that I take things at face value 

These are all things that are now shaping the work I want to do, and the business I'm creating under this brand — and that's exciting. My disability, in a way, has become my superpower.

That all said, it's been a journey to get to a place where I can recognize all of these things. 

When I was first injured, I was just 14 years old. 

As a teenage girl, I was already so predisposed to feel shame — adding a perceivable physical disability to the mix just threw that into overdrive. 

I couldn't even say the word "disabled."

As a newly injured teen in boarding school, I was desperate to pull the focus away from my disability and any struggles I was having with my body.

Keep in mind, I was only a year into my injury, and still trying to navigate and learn different ways of coping with all the physical repercussions of a spinal cord injury. 

While the girls in my house were worried about their grades and boys and learning how to do their makeup, I was figuring out how to deal with a neurogenic bladder and bowel. 

And this was with a house mother that believed that shaming me into doing things differently was a better approach than asking me how she could help.

With budding teen love all around me, I had crushes on boys while convinced none of them would like me back. Unfortunately, one boy confirmed my fears by telling me that he didn't want to be with me because he wouldn't be able to hug me while I was in my wheelchair. 

The same boy also retorted “why do you care, you can't feel it" when I told him not to put his feet on my lap during a play rehearsal. (Yeah, not the wisest of crushes, I'll admit.) 

I look back on these stories now, and I can’t help but feel compassion for my younger self.

Of course I felt shame. What was the alternative?

I also can't help but feel proud of how far I've come. In 19 years, I've finally found a sense of peace around my disabled body and what it means to take up space as a proud, confident disabled woman. 

This doesn't mean that I don't sometimes wobble. The last few weeks have shown me that I still have some shame and internalized ableism that will take hold if I give it space to. 

And that's ok. I think it's important that we give ourselves grace when those moments do happen. As long as we can say “Thanks for your opinion, but I'm going to go back over here," and flow back into the peace we know exists. 

Last thing: as I head into my Life Day tomorrow, I'm also so grateful for all of you. Thank you for being along for the ride and for being such genuine supporters of the work I'm doing. It means the world.