Stanford Strong

  A surprising sadness that has come with the fall out of spinal cord injury and its effect on our lives is how those closest to me have responded.     I’ve always tried to be a nurturer and someone that people can come to for support.     When I need it most, it seems no one is there but 1 consistent person.     I’ve even told at least 5 people that I have been struggling significantly and feel like those words just get left hanging in the air without actions that I would have provided my closest or even a stranger when presented with the same wording something more than “I’m sorry”.      It makes me question relationships and people in my life.     I don’t need a pat on the back, but simply time from others occasionally.     I feel so alone to deal with this life and at times it is so overwhelming I question if it is worth it.     I used to feel like this feeling was selfish and an easy way out.     It still is selfish because what would be left would burden the ones, I’ve been tryin

 June, 14, 2024 I've become quite the cyinic post accident.  It's hard not to when life dealt the hand that it has dealt.  I see sadness at every corner or my day.  Support groups are full of the struggles of daily life of patients and families affected by spinal cord injury.  We are at the beginning of a very long unending journey that is full of complications and pain (physically and emotionally), just like a ticking time bomb until something happens.  Who knew this would be the hand we have been dealt.  Chris and I got married, spent time making ourselves better people.  We both are smart and educated and then dreamed of our family.  Doing everything right in life leaves no guarantees for a happy ending.  My life is one that no one other than those enduring this could understand.    Again, leave it to Gray's anatomy to help with life.  When the topic of profound sadness and tragedy was discussed, it talked about how unfair the world is and how broken it is   God didn'

 April 14, 2024 Feeling the need to inject a bit of positivity into the mix, especially amidst life's recent challenges. Birthdays have come and gone for all the kids over the past couple of months. It's surreal to realize that Julian is no longer a teenager—he's turned 20! It's a milestone that makes me pause and wonder how time flies so fast. And then there are the twins, now 15, which is equally hard to wrap my head around. Life after the accident seems like a whirlwind, and seeing how much they've grown only emphasizes that. Julian, in particular, remains the beacon of light in our family. He's the one who keeps smiling, always striving to make life brighter for everyone else, even when facing his own struggles. He will put on a happy face despite his struggles to make life better for those around him.  There's a lot we can learn from him—how to love more deeply and stay positive, even when life throws its toughest challenges our way. Sometimes, I find m

       Navigating through this overwhelming grief since Julian's accident has been incredibly hard. It's impossible to compare our pain to anything else. Dealing with Julian's paralysis is a different kind of heartache, not like losing a family member. Trying to go through the grief process while pretending everything is normal, all while still taking care of our three kids, feels like an impossible balancing act. As parents, we often put on a happy face to comfort others, even when we're falling apart inside. I can vividly recall Chris and me breaking down on the side of the road, but somehow finding the strength to be composed when Julian was with us. Now, 2.5 years later, I'm still waiting for this heaviness I feel everyday to lighten a bit.      I recently came across another father's post about his child with special needs. As parents, we initially prepare ourselves for an 18-year journey of taking care of our children to give them what they need to live in