I stopped believing in Santa Claus because I was too smart for my own good. I was 7 and thought, “If Santa Claus will really bring me anything I ask for, why not try for something my parents could never afford?” Since my parents hadn’t taken me to Disney World yet, I asked for four plane tickets to Florida. When I didn’t get them, I figured out Santa Claus wasn’t real.

Like all kids when they find out Santa isn’t real, my heart was broken. Christmas was never really the same after that. Christmas was also not quite the same after I became disabled. I was 14 and depressed. Before, it was all about traipsing through the woods to get a tree, sledding, ice skating and frosting cookies. After becoming a quadriplegic, it was about remembering the good times and wishing things were still the same.

We all know how easy it is to think this way after acquiring a disability. They tell us when we go through a loss, whether it’s a physical one like mine or the loss of a loved one, creating new t