I interrupt your regular scheduled disability and cancer survivorship programming to bring you this timely explanation of a recently discovered form of therapy, consisting of listening to a Taylor Swift Album from start to finish and repeating as needed…

If I sit back and think about everything I've learned since I lost my leg and became disabled, I bet it would be enough material to fill the pages of Moby Dick. Does that mean I know everything there is to know? Not even close…

It's easy to tell yourself life will be great once this or that happens. Once my scans are clean, everything will fall into place for me once I get that raise. We're always chasing the next big thing and struggling with the "in-betweens." It's harder to smell the roses that grow in your garden when they're buried under mounds of emotional baggage and disappointment. We want everything to be pretty before we give thanks for it…

Today marks ten years since my first cancer surgery. I was a dangerous combination of terrified and hungry when my surgeon, being something like five hours late to the hospital, strolled in and drew an X with a sharpie on my right leg. I hadn't eaten since the night before, and it was now 5pm. I begged the nurse to give me my sedative early so I could hold back the empty nausea from lack of coffee and food, only made worse by my fear that when he got in to remove my tumor, he wouldn't be able to save my leg…

I just discovered that 50-70% of individuals don't have an internal monologue, and my internal monologue is screaming. What do these people do with all that free space in their minds all day? Do they word vomit every thought since they can't contain it within their heads? I can't even fathom what it must be like not to hear a sassy little brain parrot yapping away up there…

As a lifelong, deeply empathetic person, growing up, I always wondered why some people don't show emotion - why they don't let themselves properly grieve or feel sadness and frustration the way most others do. Now, I know they likely experienced some sort of trauma, deep enough that they put walls up they may not know how to take down…

How many times have you ever spiraled down the Google monster search tunnel when you felt a weird ache? Now, be honest. You've probably done it too many times to count, even though you know better. Why are we so morbidly curious about our own health that we take to the internet to read about the worst-case scenario and self-diagnose ourselves before lab tests and medical professionals can make a proper evaluation?...

I'm a lucid dreamer. That means I am often aware that I'm in a dream and can go so far as to manipulate the ending of a nightmare in my favor. I also usually remember my dreams, a skill not everyone has, so most mornings after waking, I recap the intricate movie that played out in my sleep. They say this is a trainable cognitive skill, but I've always thought I was born with it. I've written in the past about how it took me years to dream that I was an amputee, like my mind couldn't wrap around the fact that my right leg was gone…

Developing a disability is a quick way to notice just how different you look from others, but the truth is, one leg or two, we all do it. We measure so much of our worth by comparing ourselves to people who are living completely different lives…

This week marks four years since the start of this blog. When I wrote the first post, I was excited to have a safe space to tell you all what it's like to be me. I was looking forward to sharing all of my milestones and bringing awareness to a rare form of osteosarcoma and the disabled experience. I needed an outlet separate from the rest of my support system. It was right here, with all of you, that I found just what I needed…

've always found the expression "carrying around dead weight" odd. What does it mean? I watch too much true crime, so I can't help but associate it with murder when I hear it. Recently, I heard someone use it to refer to something that no longer served them, and they needed to part with. (likely the more common and less morbid association to make)…

I was recently asked what advice I might give someone new to limb loss, and boy did it take me back in time. It's only been four years, but it feels like a lifetime ago. This experience has changed me in ways that I never imagined it would, and as long as the days of waiting until I was healed enough to walk on a prosthesis were, the change within me happened fast, and I could not be more grateful to have found my inner strength just in time to fight like hell…