A Sea of Butterflies

The act of violence that leads to a spinal cord injury can happen in many ways; my experience comes from a gunshot wound inflicted during a domestic violence incident with my ex. In the aftermath of that tragic moment, my life transformed irreversibly, becoming both a profound challenge and a catalyst for growth and advocacy. So now I get to share my perspectives on living with a spinal cord injury (SCI), the repercussions of domestic violence, and the importance of resilience and community support.

When the gun went off and eight bullets struck, it changed everything in an instant. The one bullet that paralyzed me is crazy enough still there. The sensation of impact was not just physical; it was emotional, marking both the end of my previous life and the beginning of a new, uncharted journey. The immediate aftermath involved hospital stays, rehab, and therapy sessions filled with a lot of healing and not just putting a bandage on the situation. I was forced to confront my new identity as a person with a disability, grappling with the loss of mobility and the need for assistance in daily activities. The physical pain was often eclipsed by emotional turmoil—anger, grief, revenge, and a sense of loss twisted together in a web of covered depression.

Initially, I struggled with acceptance, but I told myself, “Look, Tyra, you have 18 months to work as hard as you can so you won’t be like this permanently”. Could I still be a mother with a paralysis to a newborn? Would I be able to provide for my kids? Would I still be seen as valuable? Could I maintain relationships? Would my life have meaning outside the limitations imposed upon me by my injury? These questions ran through my mind like a track star. Gradually, I learned that rejecting the narrative imposed by my injury was crucial to reclaiming my identity. It became apparent that while I could not change my circumstances, I could change my response to them, and while I can’t control other people’s actions, I can control my reaction to ignorance.

My kids, my faith, and my resilience, became my guiding principle. I consciously chose to focus on what I still had rather than what I had lost. My determination led me to take charge of my life. Each minor achievement—be it regaining strength, balancing during wheelchair maneuvers, or setting new personal goals—was a reminder that I was far from broken and that my ex didn’t break me nor kill me.