My Raw and Real Leah Lived Day 2024

Truth be told, I had a harder time with Leah Lived Day this year than I have in the past.

I woke up to a bladder spasm. Basically my bladder was unhappy for some reason, so I peed the bed. Although bladder spasms are never fun, for some reason it felt like a particularly insulting way to start this particular day. It was a reminder that I was paralyzed and there is nothing I can do about it.

When bladder issues come up, I get anxious and depressed. They can sometimes signal deeper, more troublesome issues going on. It makes me wonder how many years I have left.

Before WWII, the average life expectancy past a spinal cord injury was only 3 years.

Thankfully, with antibiotics and better wheelchair cushioning, (depending on age) that number now stretches into 30+ years. In the past 6 years, I’ve had a few close calls – if it weren’t for antibiotics, I wouldn’t be typing this. 

[A wonderful man I knew who was a quadriplegic died recently at the age of 83. Incredible and it gives me such hope! (If you want to read an aaaamazing obituary, here it is.)]

Back to my feelings about Leah Lived Day #6. It held more grief than I would have liked. I kept reminding myself that no feeling is wrong. I could be grateful, but I could also give room to the grief as well.

So often I go about my day in a way that is, although inconvenient, something I have gotten used to.

But my injury hit me differently this year on LLD. I went to bed sobbing. I wanted to be grateful and joyful, but there was a sadness too. I have lost a easy relationship with my body. Being in constant pain is taxing.

But I have no choice. The only choice I have is how I combat the pain.

We started Tiny and Snail a year before I became paralyzed. We had been building our liferaft and didn’t know it.

This business offers me a way to make sense of my suffering. It allows me to process the events and feelings as we do life, and use it as a way to help others.

And it’s connected us with AMAZING customers. 😍

In an effort to redirect my sobbing, I found a meditation on the Calm app. It was a meditation about acknowledging your grief, but then finding people to be grateful for.

My mind landed on our Tiny and Snail community, and that was the thing that allowed me to fall asleep.

I’m not telling you any of this for pity. I’m telling you because I think often my optimism rises to the top, and online things can appear rather rosey. It’s not all roses and rainbows though, and that makes our cards what they are: an ode to BOTH the highs and the lows of life. The human experience contains it all, and I just happen to have been given a front row seat to the extremes; this now tumbles into every piece of art I create.

Grief is defined by the loss of something or someone.

Whether someone lost a pet, a child, partner or parent (recently or years ago), someone has lost their good health…the list of reasons we grieve are endless. (Here’s a good web page about grief from the Cleveland Clinic. Worth a read!)

I thought it would be interesting to share our grief in the blog comments. If you wish to remain anonymous, you can. I think sharing our grief and knowing other people grieve too can make us feel less alone.

I am also a big believer in taking a few minutes to acknowledge other people’s grief with a handwritten note. I hope you take a few minutes this week to write a note to someone you know is hurting. It’s one of the most important ways we can help make this life a little easier for each other.

If you are in the middle of grief, I hope you feel me squeezing your hand across the miles.

P.S. A couple of the cards from the recent Kindred Spirits Collection are especially helpful for acknowledging grief: