In 52 years

During my 52 years on this earth, I have learned so much.

I have been molded and refined, only to start the process all over again to meet the moment.

In 52 years, I have learned what it takes to fight endlessly to exist independently.

I have my own definition of what life is like to sleep, eat, and breathe a rigorous training schedule.

In 52 years, I have learned that strength is not what I always thought it was. Strength, for me, is not about big strong muscles, but rather about accepting things as they are. That takes great strength and daily diligence.

If acceptance were a muscle, I feel mine would be bulging, after 52 years of tirelessly lifting that “weight.”

In 52 years, I have learned that other people’s opinions of me are not my reality. I know myself better than anyone. I trust that now.

I have learned that my self-worth can exist independently from societal views.

In 52 years, I have been mocked, publicly humiliated, shamed, underestimated, embraced, loved and witnessed God’s powerful love in human form.

For every low, there have been a multitude of highs. I have learned to expect the beautiful sunset after the storm. It always comes, eventually.

I have learned that humor is medicine, and laughter can penetrate through the deepest of hurt and pain.

I have learned the value of rest, and to not be ashamed to say that my body needs more rest than others. Measuring myself against an able body is torturous. Trying to keep the same pace, is physically impossible.

In 52 years, I have learned to enjoy the slower pace that life with a physical disability demands. I have discovered there is a different kind of beauty to experience when I fall behind.

I used to avoid any scenario where I would have to spend time alone with myself, with my thoughts. Now I crave those moments. It is easy to spend time with someone you love.

I have learned the power that one small voice carries and have seen the changes a singular voice can make.

I have discovered that physical losses, on a regular basis, are some of the loneliest, darkest spaces a human can endure. Not anything like I imagined, but worse.

I have learned that the empathy that living an entire life in a disabled body produces is one of God’s greatest gifts, as well as an emotional burden.

I have learned that no matter how hard I try to help others understand, they just never will. I will never stop trying to help make the world a better place for people with disabilities.

I have found peace where peace should not logically exist. Comfortable in skin that used to endlessly crawl with self-loathing. At times, it still does.

I have learned that, sometimes, we do indeed thank God for unanswered prayers.

I have learned that my faith wears a cape, just like a superhero, saving me at every wrong turn and obstacle, if I allow it to.

I have learned that our children can help us see ourselves in our most authentic form.

In 52 years, I have learned to appreciate the life I have, and to seek the unique opportunities and perspective it brings. I have also learned, there is still space to grieve what I wish could have been different.

I am so grateful to have just celebrated my 52nd birthday. Taking time to reflect on the mystery called life that unfolds right before our eyes is a great way to count my blessings and see the gifts hidden in every season.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.