Happy #DisabilityPrideMonth! This month also includes Disability Independence Day, July 26, which celebrates the anniversary of the signing of the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA). In honor of Disability Pride Month, I wanted to share my experience with my physical disabilities and how it affected my romantic comedy Stuck On The Slopes.
It took me a very long time to come to terms with them, but very much like my experience with post-traumatic stress disorder, I don’t want people to feel alone with what they’re going through. My hope is that my speaking out and including positive representation in my works can build those connections and bridge those loneliness gaps.
Chronic Pain Represented in Stuck On The Slopes
Stuck On The Slopes is written in first person perspective but with a dual point of view (POV). This means that some of the chapters are told through the lens of Rachel, the primary protagonist, and others are told from the POV of her love interest Juniper. Juniper is the disabled character in question.
Before Stuck On The Slopes begins, Juniper is an Olympic athlete. A snowboarding prodigy, he ends up in a devastating accident. The novel goes more in-depth about his backstory, so I won’t spoil it here, but the novel picks up five years after his accident. Juniper can no longer snowboard and suffers from chronic pain. He’s accompanied by his service dog, a Newfoundland named Sasquatch, but other than his Newfie, he’s a bit of a recluse.
In the book, we see how Juniper struggles with accepting his new reality, even five years later. Not sure what his purpose in life is anymore now that he can’t snowboard, he buys a failing ski lodge to try to renovate it, but needs help – and that’s where Rachel comes in and our story begins. Through the book, we also see how Juniper’s pain levels vary from day to day, how they and the incident impact his moods, and how he reacts to the rom-com shenanigans he and Rachel get into.
Mirroring My Own Experiences
Content warning: This section discusses past car accidents and a brief mention of an eating disorder. If these are sensitive subjects for you, tread carefully, if at all.
While I was never an Olympic athlete and have only started getting into skiing since I moved to Washington (no snowboarding for me, though!) from Florida in 2023 – five months after I wrote this book, which is set in Colorado – I do have my own experiences with chronic pain and sports.
As a kid, my pediatrician suspected I had recurring tendonitis in both ankles as a result of walking incorrectly until I was in early elementary school. This still impacts me to this day. My ankles like to do this not-so-fun thing where they’ll randomly give out. But nothing was actually done for treatment, here.
Then, in high school, my mom and I got rear-ended while stopped for a school bus. A whole summer of chiropractic care only brought temporary relief and a realization that I had minor scoliosis. Yay (/sarcasm).
In college, I was in another car accident (my poor back). This was where the damage was really done. I was stopped at a red light (recurring theme here, huh? Don’t text and drive, folks!) on my way to my 19th birthday dinner. I was rear-ended by someone speeding and texting. My car ricocheted between the car behind and in front of me, and it caused a four-car pile-up. I walked out of the car accident with no broken bones, but I did leave with permanent nerve damage in my sciatic nerve on the right side and in both of my hands. Between my pre-existing issues that never got properly treated and now this, my body was wrecked.
It doesn’t get better from here because I never got properly treated for this, either. Doctors who examined me post-accident had me sit on the bench, bend over at the waist, and then they asked if that hurt. When I said no, but I felt nerve pain in my lower back and right leg at all times, they told me that I was fine and sent me home without looking into that. No scans, no X-rays, nothing.
I gained a ton of weight after this, and then lost it (in an unhealthy manner). At the height of my eating disorder, I took up running, determined to prove to myself that I wasn’t going to let the pain I developed from the car accident and my past injuries define me.
You know those stories that feel a bit like inspiration porn? I wanted to be one of these success stories so bad. I ended up running seven half marathons. Probably the worst thing I could have done, because after every half marathon, the pain got worse.
It reached a point where I couldn’t run anymore. That point broke me mentally.
I was in denial for a very long time. I wasn’t disabled, I was just injured. I didn’t have a disability, my ankles were just weird from walking funny as a kid. Sure, I couldn’t stand in lines for too long. Sure, I couldn’t wear certain clothes that put pressure on the damaged nerve. I couldn’t do certain things like that without being in excruciating pain that would put me out of commission for sometimes days on end, but I denied it. Even as I got compression gloves for my hands, I denied it.
I didn’t use any sort of accessibility aid (other than the compression gloves) until 2022. Mind you, the last car accident that really solidified all of the damage in my body and then multiplied it was in 2013. So we’re talking nine years of suffering with no help.
When I’d asked for the ADA sticker at a convention to help me handle longer queues by opting for the shorter ADA one, no one asked me any questions. They just smiled, slapped the sticker on my badge, and bid me a good con. I cried that night. I’d been torturing myself for almost a decade, and for what?
And then that’s when reality hit me like a truck: I was disabled and had been for many, many years, almost my whole life starting with my damn ankles, and there was nothing wrong with that.
It was then strange to come to terms with the fact that I was no longer the woman who could run seven half-marathons (after the seventh, my body was practically begging me to stop). There’s a sort of mourning that happens in situations like this, where you bid farewell to the person you used to be and what you thought your future might look like.
Reflecting In Fiction
This was a feeling I explored with Juniper. What do you do when your life is turned upside-down? I’d attached so much of my identity to the fact that I loved to run. There was a time when my Instagram account was almost nothing but photos from the 5Ks and half marathons I ran. Who was I past the medals? Juniper finds himself facing the same question: who was he outside of his snowboarding accomplishments?
I found myself with two choices: to continue torturing myself or to accept and adapt. I opted to adapt.
Now, I accept the help that I need. I use hiking poles whenever I go for a hike with my husband (something we love to do, especially since moving to Washington). I have a cane, and while I’ve had to use it in public once, it’s nice to know that it’s there should I need it. Getting therapy and seeking proper treatment after a decade has also been a game-changer. I’m still seeking a proper diagnosis for what’s going on with my body, but I’m taking it one step at a time.
(Edit to update: I finally have a diagnosis! My chronic pain is the result of fibromyalgia.)
There’s nothing wrong with being disabled. If you find yourself struggling to adjust to your new life, you’re not alone. It doesn’t define you. And you don’t need to suffer in silence. 🩵
