The other day I was asked what my biggest challenge has been, I answered back, “acceptance,” hearing my best friend’s voice clearly in my head telling me, “Christa, you just need to accept your disability.” I was frustrated by this advice coming from a fully functional and mostly abled person who had no idea what it was like to have their mobility and with it identity stripped from them over night. Sure, just accept it. Seems easy enough. I see my friends with spinal cord injuries, with their foreseeable futures in wheelchairs, friends with amputated limbs, all who have clear cut futures- not necessarily great ones or better ones than I have, but in my mind, when it’s definitive, it’s easier to accept and move forward. When you’re paralyzed from the waste down, at least you know that’s you’re life moving forward and you can make it the very best life you can. That’s probably why my favorite atheletes are SCI survivors- they are fearless and full of life. As a stroke survivor, I’m lucky, to be only partially paralyzed, to have some movement. I can walk, I have one strong arm, and I have one stubborn arm that just won’t talk to my brain or function at all. I have had doctors tell me it won’t ever recover, and some tell me it might. The open ended element of this recovery could be a light at the end of the tunnel for some people, but for me it’s infuriating. It’s winter here in Colorado. It’s snowing, which is pretty to look at, when you’re inside. I’m 8 months away from my 3 year anniversary, and my arm is showing as much progress as the ice melting outside. When does one stop trying? When do we throw in the towel here?

In the same interview, I was asked about my biggest success, I laughed and answered back, “Ironically, Acceptance.” When the clock struck midnight on December 31, 2023, I made myself a promise that I’d find joy in my life, in 2024, no matter what, even if it looks different. Disability, limp, weak left arm, no matter, I will live my life full and find joy. That, to me, is acceptance. I am moving forward with myself, making myself better knowing I may not have full mobility ever again. I could get movement back, and that would be cool, but if I don’t, I’m at peace with that.

The day I choose to amputate my arm is the day I have given up entirely on my arm’s recovery, but if that is what I choose, it will give me some freedom and be a weight lifted off my shoulders… quite literally.

Today, i’m at peace with who I am and where Im at on my journey. I’m grateful this life.