Two days ago, the 20th anniversary of my injury came and went. As I sat here in front of my computer at 3:05pm, the exact time my injury occurred, I looked outside to observe the weather.

I wanted to see if the late August sky looked the same as it did when I broke my neck when I was stuck there in stasis in the water, no one knowing I was injured yet and slowly running out of air. I vividly remember looking up through the water toward the blue skies I so desperately wanted to reach. And you know what, eerily, the sky looked exactly the same the other day.

Then something profound dawned on me while looking at the sky — my injury that day 20 years ago came and went, just like everything else horrible that happens in life. 9/11, kids dying of cancer, anything bad you can imagine. The world doesn’t stop for anyone, even if my injury seems like the biggest thing in the world to me. There is a stark beauty in the weather being the same 20 years later, and kids are still playing at that very same beach.

I think this revelation is great fodder for any of us having a hard time moving on after an injury.  If we don’t move on, we will be left behind. The birds, the trees, seasons; the world stops for no one, and before we know it life will be over. Life is about being strong, not happy.  When my injury first occurred, everyone in my life had some major adjusting and they moved on, even if it’s been hard for me to do the same.

Then there’s the question as to whether one should throw a party or celebrate in some way when their injury anniversary comes to pass. People are all over the board when it comes to this question. Some people see it as a day of rebirth, their second birthday if you will, and will throw a party or even go out for free drinks at bars, which is undoubtedly going to happen when you start talking about your injury story.

And then you have others who don’t keep track and forget their anniversary before it’s too late, or maybe they try to purposely forget it because it makes them sad.  No one is alike when it comes to this difficult day.  For my 20th anniversary this year, I wanted to throw a party, but it never came together.

As badly as I want to look at my anniversary as a survival day, I just can’t do it.  I can’t get rid of the overwhelming melancholy that’s always there every August 25th.  20 years is a long time for your butt to be sitting (joke intended; thank you Michelle for that one) and to not move your legs too.

Do I ever feel angry for being shafted from being shut out of so many physical experiences?  Do I get bitter?  Absolutely I have these moments, but I always try to focus on my survival, even if I’m pretty sure I’ll never feel like throwing celebration over it.

What do you think?  If your disability is acquired through an accident, do you celebrate the day it happened or is it too difficult?