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Proof That “Why Not?” Is a Life Strategy

People often ask me, “How have you accomplished so many ‘firsts’?” The truth is, there was never a master plan. My life philosophy has always been much simpler:

“Why not?”

That little question has taken me farther than I ever imagined.

In 2006, I became the first female quadriplegic to earn a Bachelor of Education (Elementary) from the University of Alberta. Most people saw a wheelchair. I saw a classroom. “Why not?”

Then came a series of adventures that probably made my mother wonder if I had completely lost my mind.

Why not climb Ha Ling Peak?

Why not wheel across the Great Wall of China?

Why not become the first quadriplegic to letter comic books for DC Comics?

Why not become the first quadriplegic in North America to participate in Functional Electrical Stimulation (FES) rowing?

Looking back, my résumé started reading less like a career path and more like a bucket list written after too much coffee.

Along the way, I found my true passion—helping others discover what’s possible. I built a career supporting people with disabilities in finding meaningful employment and eventually joined the Government of Alberta, where I continue working to make workplaces more inclusive. Helping someone land their dream job can be just as rewarding as reaching the top of a mountain.

And because apparently I hadn’t collected enough bruises already, I returned to wheelchair rugby. There’s something strangely satisfying about voluntarily getting slammed into by your friends while everyone cheers.

Somewhere in there, I rejoin Toastmasters. After years of speaking professionally, I figured I should probably learn how to stop saying “um” every third sentence. The jury is still out.

Just when I thought I had my life all figured out, life smiled and said, “Plot twist.”

I met and married an incredible man who somehow thought all of this sounded like a great idea. Then motherhood arrived.

Suddenly, my greatest adventures no longer involved mountains, international travel, or adaptive sports.

Now they involve convincing a tiny human that socks are, in fact, necessary.

I traded climbing peaks for climbing over baby gates.

My backpack full of adventure gear quietly transformed into a diaper bag containing wipes, snacks, crayons, extra clothes, emergency snacks, backup emergency snacks, and somehow… one lonely Lego.

I’ve learned that toddlers are far more unpredictable than mountain weather, bedtime negotiations require stronger diplomacy than international politics, and stepping on a Lego should qualify as an Olympic event.

Ironically, changing diapers one-handed may be one of the most difficult adaptive sports I’ve ever attempted.

People sometimes assume that becoming a parent meant slowing down.

Not at all.

Adventure didn’t disappear—it simply changed shape.

Today, my adventures are measured less by elevation gained and more by milestones shared. Instead of asking, “What’s the next impossible thing?” I find myself asking, “What memory can we create today?”

If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s that life rarely follows the path you expect. Sometimes your biggest achievement is climbing a mountain. Sometimes it’s helping someone find a career they never thought possible. Sometimes it’s surviving a grocery store trip with a toddler who insists bananas belong in the freezer.

Every chapter has been different. Every chapter has been worth it.

So if someone tells you something can’t be done, or if you catch yourself wondering whether you’re capable of trying something new, ask yourself one simple question:

Why not?

You never know where that answer might take you.

It might take you to the top of a mountain.

It might take you across the Great Wall of China.

Or, if life has a sense of humor…

It might just take you to the diaper aisle.

And honestly?

I’m grateful for every single adventure.