“I’d tried to sit up at least five times. I was an eight-year-old dancer and suddenly I couldn’t sit up. Only a few hours earlier I’d been fluttering around the dance studio in my recital costume with my friends, leaping and laughing. And now I couldn’t sit up—or walk or move my arms and hands. My life had changed so drastically within the blink of an eye. My life was normal one moment and the next it wasn’t.
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I experienced a sudden, excruciating headache in the middle of ballet class, and then when I reached down to pull up my tights I realized my arms and hands were paralyzed. Scared, I told my mom ‘Mom, I can’t move my arms.’ I’d been flown to the ER by helicopter after my mom rushed me to the urgent care center. And from there I lay in a hospital bed for six hours, receiving no treatment, because the doctor didn’t believe there was anything serious going on. I was only eight years old. I was a child. But my determined, stubborn attitude had already shown itself. I was going to sit up by myself, lift myself up from this unexpected tragedy I was facing.
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But I couldn’t. The ER doctor sent me home and told my parents ‘If she’s not significantly better in the morning bring her back. The next morning I woke up hopeful, excited, because I trusted the doctor. I’m going to be fine, I told myself. That’s what the doctor said, so it should be true. But I couldn’t move my legs when I woke up even though I could the night before and my breathing was shallow. I knew the situation was grave but that innocent part of my eight-year-old mind helped me not panic too much. I only really began to panic when EMTs came up to my bedroom and had to carry me on a backboard down the stairs to an ambulance. Only twenty-four hours ago I’d been learning at school like any normal day. How could this have happened?
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Upon returning to the hospital that morning, several tests were performed, and I was diagnosed with Transverse Myelitis (TM), an autoimmune condition in which the body attacks the spinal cord. However I’ve since been re-diagnosed with Acute Flaccid Myelitis (AFM), a neuro-immunological disorder caused by a direct viral attack on the spinal cord and a subset of TM. Miraculously after spending fifty days in the hospital (two weeks in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and five weeks in inpatient rehabilitation), I was able to walk out of the hospital with minimal assistance. Today, I still have partial paralysis in my shoulders, arms, and right hand, and I’m unable to move my left hand.
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Before I got AFM I’d lived eight years of my life perfectly healthy; I didn’t know what it was like to have a disability. But now at age seventeen I’ve lived the majority of my life with a physical disability. It’s odd to think about lifting my arms above my head, or tying my shoes, or holding something in my left hand, because I don’t really remember what doing those things actually feels like. Sometimes I miss doing these things—long to do them, even—but I’ve grown used to living with a disability. I’ve learned AFM is a part of my life now. I always tell others I’m still a normal teenage girl, I still love to dance, read, and write, I just have to do things a little bit differently than most people. And I’ve found I’m okay with that, though it took some time for me to be.
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I know what it’s like to experience tragedy. I know what it’s like to experience pain. But I also know what it’s like to experience hope. When I was ten years old I returned to school after having a homebound tutor the year after I got sick. I was only in fourth grade but I knew my life was not how it should be. My friends didn’t have a full time aide attached to their hips while attending school. They didn’t have to go to physical therapy. And they didn’t have to lose their independence. I found myself lost in a bout of depression but I was too young to understand why.
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That harrowing evening in the ER I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t lift myself up from this unexpected tragedy I was facing. But I later discovered Harry Styles could help lift me. I met him and the rest of One Direction on my Make-A-Wish trip in August 2014. They were all so sweet to me but especially Harry. I gave him my first autobiography I’d published and he was so impressed. After I met him he spotted me in the crowd and waved and he does so at every single concert I attend now. Harry truly just wants everyone to be happy and he actually cares about me! He remembers me and I’m the happiest I could be. Meeting Harry helped me get out of the depression I was in for about two years and I’m so thankful for him because of that. We’ve developed such a special relationship and made incredible memories I’ll cherish forever.
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My experience enduring and recovering from depression has taught me it’s possible to find happiness even amidst the darkest of times. Living with a disability has shaped me into who I am today: a three-time published author, dancer, disability activist, and speaker, and I’m so incredibly proud of who I’ve become. My goal is to encourage people with disabilities and let them know life holds so much opportunity for them. If people with disabilities maintain a positive attitude they can go a long way. Staying positive can be difficult, especially when life is so tough, but I’ve learned it’s the key to leading a happier, successful life. It’s possible to push through the hardships living with a disability comes with and do so with a smile.”
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“When I was 14-years-old I met and dated a 22-year-old man. I’ll just let that sink in for a moment. I met him at the local YMCA where I went after school to swim and where he happened to work. It’s the perfect scenario actually, my mom trusted dropping me off to play at the Y would be a safe environment and the staff would take care of me. But I ended up gaining the attention of a man who convinced 14 year old me (and eventually my parents) he was in this for all the right reasons, he loved me and he eventually wanted to marry me. Now looking back, I realize he took advantage of me. He was a great con artist, I never saw it coming or even had a chance. I was too young to know better.
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He took a 14-year-old girl and distorted and warped what a relationship should be. He used the Bible to manipulate me, to tell me what we were doing was the ‘right thing’ and God had placed us together. He told me fairy tales of our future together; he would marry me and we would have a family. I was so young and so naive, I fell for it all. How she planned pregnancies to keep him in her trap and she was a horrible person, and once everything was in place, at the right time he would leave her for me. Now, I know better. I know he was the bad one, he was the liar.
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He went away to college (14 hours from my town) and we kept in touch as much as we could. We didn’t have the internet or cell phones back then so he wrote me lots of letters and we spent long nights on the phone racking up my parents long distance phone bill. He kept in contact with me and kept stringing me on. He got married and had a family with someone else but he was always calling me, keeping in contact and told me he wanted to come back for me, we were meant to be together. He would come visit me all the while living another life, leaving his wife and family behind. He told me he had gotten married and made up stories of how she tricked him and forced him to get married.
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After high school I moved from the midwest out to the east coast. I lived on my own, got a job as a lifeguard, and met new friends. I drank and partied and made some absolutely horrible decisions. I had super low self-esteem and tried to find my self worth in men when and wherever I could. I thought if some guy would just love me- or even like me- I would feel better about myself. I was looking to fill some sort of empty void in my heart. I wanted to be wanted, needed, and loved. I tried to find my worth in what men thought of me. My self-esteem had plummeted so far, I was so confused, hurting and I doubted myself all the time. Even when I would meet a good, decent guy I would unknowingly sabotage the relationship because I felt like I didn’t deserve him. I pushed them away without even realizing what I was doing. I gained weight and never felt good enough or smart enough or I would ever BE enough.
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