Writing. It’s the only thing over the past 10+ years that has been an outlet for me for whenever I am feeling anything. Any which way. Up, down, North, South, Left Right, no matter the direction, writing has helped me feel through it. I know it’s hard to believe, but I am not one that’s all that great when it comes to “talking things out”. I can shoot the bull with just about anyone, over anything, but when it comes to my emotions? I am a jumbled mess. I am either too mad and let words that are not “internet approved” slip one too many times. I am too sad that I can barely get out of my chair, much less talk it out. Or I am too excited and just want to do it. No talking, no stopping, just doing. But writing? It just makes sense. It’s like untangling a great big knot. And once it’s all straightened out and you figure out why things got twisted and turned the way they did, or at least you think you have it figured out, all seems right in the world.

But I am not writing this time because of a certain feeling I have been feeling lately, but instead I am writing about a dream that I have. I am 33 years old and I just figured out what I want to be when I grow up. Kind of pathetic, I know, but it’s true. I want to be a freelance blogger. I want to be an disability advocate. I want to show the world what someone with a disability can do. I want to be able to write about cliff jumping in Hawaii. I want to write about zip lining through the jungles of Costa Rica. I want to tell you about the dozens and dozens of times it took me falling off a surfboard before I was finally able to stand up long enough to ride even the tiniest of waves. I want to hike a trail in the Grand Canyon. I want to go horseback riding with a wooden leg on my left-hand side for weight. I literally just want to prove to the world that the letters “D”, “I”, and “S” belong nowhere near the world ability. And after I prove that I want to tell you all, all about it. I want to describe to you every single bump & bruise I got along the way. I want to explain, in detail, my kids’ faces when they see me doing something that the world told me, or should I say us, that we couldn’t do.

I want to do more than inspire. I want to create bucket lists for people just like me. People who look or think differently than everyone else. I want to let people know that the only limit is the limit we put on ourselves. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks. I don’t. I only care what I think of myself. I want to look back on my life one day and be a person who made even just one person, differently abled or not, dare to dream. To believe that the world was meant to be explored and admired, not just lived on.

“Get busy living, or get busy dying”

– Stephen King

So, to the people who want to see me dare to dream, send me all the ideas, all the contacts that you have to make anything you think is awesome possible, and let’s cross that starting line. Life is way to short to be perfect. It’s the bumps and bruises along the way that make life fun. Sure they can hurt, but after the pain goes away, it makes for a pretty great story. And if you know me, I love telling a good story. And it’s time that I stop just existing. That I stop going through the motions just because it’s what is expected of me. Because I expect more from myself. And you should too. Don’t wait until you’ve become a robot to break the mold. Don’t wait until you are dying to truly live. And don’t wait until you finally realize that life has been passing you by to finally make a bucket list. Life’s too short, too valuable, and has way too much potential for any of that.

Sending you all of my balance,
The One Legged Mom

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P.S. I really could use some help getting the ball rolling. So, please send me ideas, contacts, places to go, people to meet, food to try, and everything in between. My bucket list is just starting…