By nature I’m a happy, laid back, go lucky person but I don’t do the purposely-inspirational spiel. Why? There are a lot of reasons. One being that those types of people sickens me; I don’t need to be making myself nauseous. Another reason is that it serves no purpose. There’s a thin line between being helpful and hurtful. If a newly paralyzed person is hearing every cliché ‘life goes on’ quote how do you think they compare and feel about themselves if they feel that their life is stagnant? Pretty shitty. Finding the very thin ledge between being real and being inspirational is unbelievably hard. That’s why you hear mostly about either the cynics or the saints. It’s very few people who can be both.

Let’s start off by explaining how I got to this place in my life. I was seventeen. I had ridden horses my whole life, on and off, and desperately missed it at the time, as it had been my ‘off’ period. Sometimes things or people have phases in your life. You don’t plan it or necessarily want them to have phases where it fits in your life or does not but it happens. That’s the way my life seems to go. So, on a family vacation, visiting my grandparents and aunt down south I was eager to ride my aunt’s horse, Columbia. She was a beauty, a fine piece of art in my eyes. I knew her spirit was calling to me.

I remember certain things about that day. I remember how the sun beat down on my increasingly red skin. I remember everything seemed beige or bland against the color of her coat. I remember eating tuna fish and grapes. I also remember feeling like I was in a bubble while attending to Columbia. The feeling like nothing could pull me away fro what seemed like the only thing made for me. Horses and riding. My whole seventeen years I never felt like I belonged. I always felt out of the loop and the one person who never fully gets the joke. When I rode, though, those insecurities and the sense of not belonging melted away. I was one with this beautiful animal that gave me the privilege of seeing how the world looks from their point of view. What I saw was always amazing. I never saw expectations or disappointments. I saw simple beauty, wind, nature, and freedom. I felt small and taken care of but gently powerful. I felt alive.

After riding for a while something went wrong. Whether something scared her or just plain old felt frisky I’ll never fully know. All I did know is that I was looking up at the blue sky unable to move. That’s the moment I lost my life to SCI. I didn’t know that at the time, of course. I was scared, very scared. I had fallen off numerous times before but I was always able to stand back up after catching my breath. This time was dreadfully different. I knew that deep down in my gut. The paramedics tried to say I was going to be fine but even they couldn’t hide the fear and sadness in their eyes. (...to be continued)