I actually had to whip out my calculator to do the math because I seriously couldn’t believe it: It has been 18 whole years.
Eighteen years since the car accident that resulted in my spinal cord injury. March 23, 2008.
Eighteen years since I last walked on my own two feet.
The wild part? I was 18 years old when it happened. That means I have now lived the exact same amount of years being disabled as I lived without a disability. That realization is a heavy, beautiful, and absolutely wild "non-deathiversary" milestone to hit. (Shoutout to my friend Kerry for that term—I love it more than 'Life Day'!)
The "Profound" First Thoughts of a Teenager
Looking back at the day of the accident, I remember one of my first thoughts being: “Was my face affected?”Ah yes, very profound. Somehow, the doctors telling me I may never walk again didn't fully register. I assumed there was a workaround—physical therapy, science, or a miracle. I figured God loved me and would use my story as a testimony, so obviously, I’d walk again. I told myself to just focus on THE NOW.
I remember the details clearly: giving the police my dad’s phone number, being air-lifted to the hospital, reciting "I shall live, I shall not die" over and over again, thinking about my best friend whom I'd seen earlier that day, and worrying about my little brother, who was barely a year old. I thought about my family, my friends, and concluded that I had people in my corner and I had God.
I was alive, so I tucked this experience into the “this too shall pass” category of my life.
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Faith in the Middle of the Shift
That "this too shall pass" attitude was what I packed in my bags for this new life. People ask me all the time if I'm glad I felt that way, and the answer is absolutely.
Having that attitude and faith in God is truly what keeps me "standing" (or sitting!) strong today.
God and I had to go a few rounds during this journey. I had a very specific "walking miracle" in mind, and I spent a lot of time waiting for that version of the story to start. But as the years ticked by, I realized He was answering me, just not in the way I was demanding.
But isn't that just like God? He’s going to do what He’s going to do, how He’s going to do it. The miracle wasn't the physical healing I demanded; it was the fact that He has been with me every single step of the way.
Did My Life End at 18?
When you’re 18, society tells you your life has "only just begun." After the accident, a part of me wondered if that still applied to me. Did my life as I knew it end, or was this a different beginning?You might be expecting a profound statement about how disability never held me back. You might want a list of "typical" accomplishments—marriage, kids, college, homeownership—to prove I didn't lose anything. Those things are great, but this milestone isn't about proving my worth through a checklist. I'm still here aren't I?
Why the Accident Saved My Life
I often tell people that having an accident saved my life, and I mean it. Before March 23, 2008, I was on a trajectory toward a version of myself that was restless and perhaps a little lost. I had plans and a pace for my life that left very little room for God or for true, deep purpose. Granted, I was just a teenager, but looking back, I can confidently tell you I had some plans that certainly could (maybe would) have led me down a much more gloomy path in life.
There was a path I was on—a version of myself I was becoming—that this disability steered me away from. It changed my trajectory in ways I’m deeply grateful for. (Though, you’ll have to invite me to lunch or dinner if you want MORE on that statement!)
Disability didn't just slow me down; it completely re-routed me. It stripped away the distractions and the superficial goals I was chasing and forced me to build a foundation on something that actually lasts. It pushed me toward a depth of faith, and a perspective on life’s fragility that I never would have found on my own. While the 18-year-old version of me thought she was losing her freedom, the woman I am today realizes I was actually gaining a soul that is anchored. I’m certain that the path I was on would have led me somewhere far less beautiful than where I am sitting today.
Having this accident didn't just change how I move; it changed how I choose. Over the last 18 years, I’ve learned to be far more selective with my time and my circle. In my "previous" life, I was often running on autopilot, but this journey forced me to become intentional. I’ve learned the freedom that comes with saying "no" to things that don't serve my purpose and being incredibly selective with the friendships I pour into.
This chair taught me how to recognize who is truly in my corner and who is just passing through.
More than anything, it has softened me. I find myself giving so much more grace—to others, but especially to myself. I’ve realized that we are all carrying things we didn't ask for, and a little extra kindness goes a long way. This "new" life is quieter, more selective, and filled with a lot more peace than the one I was rushing toward at 18.
What I’d Tell the Girl on March 23, 2008
If I could go back to that day—March 23, 2008—and talk to my 18-year-old self, I know exactly what I’d say.
For years, I practiced the speech I’d give my younger self. It always started with: "Don't get in the car." I wanted her to trust the gut feeling she had that day and just stay home. But 18 years of perspective changes things.
Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't stop her. If that accident was the bridge to the woman I am today, I wouldn't dare burn it. Since I can’t guarantee that any other path would have brought me this much peace and purpose, I have to believe the accident saved me. I don’t look back with regret anymore; I look back and wish her the strength to cross that bridge.
I’d tell my 18-year-old self to keep being joyful and hopeful. Keep dreaming big. Most importantly, keep trusting in God. I’d lean in and remind her of my favorite bible verse, 1 Corinthians 10:13:
"No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it."
Looking back, I see how He provided that "way out"—not always by removing the trial, but by giving me the strength to endure it and the grace to thrive through it. He’s still using my story as a testimony of His faithfulness, just not in the way I originally thought it would be.
God has been with me every single step of the way. I’ve definitely seen and felt Him throughout this 18-year journey.
Oh, and I’d tell her one more thing: Marry the kind man. Yes, the one you see as just a friend right now. Marry him!
Eighteen years in, I’m not just surviving; I’m living a life that is full, intentional, and deeply rooted.
Happy Non-Deathiversary to me. Thanks for being part of the journey.
Happy Non-Deathiversary to me. Thanks for being part of the journey.
Celebrate with me! 🥂
If this story touched you, or if you just want to help me celebrate 18 years of sitting strong, I’m shamelessly accepting "Non-Deathiversary" drinks!Thanks for being in my corner!
