My whole life I have worn glasses, while neither of my siblings wore them, but I always thought that was the only thing different about me. When I learned how to walk, I was immediately put on skis. With my bottle-cap-thick glasses, I was pushed down the hill, and by the time I was 5, I was racing. I loved it. The day I got my first win, I was so excited. I won by one hundredth of a second. The second race of the day, I got halfway down and accidentally skied into the course next to me because I couldn’t tell which gates were mine. I didn’t win that race. 
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 One summer when I was 11, my family and I went cliff jumping into the bone-chilling water of Lake Superior. As I hit the water, all I could think about was the rush of adrenaline, but as I climbed out onto the jagged rocks above, I realized that something else had happened: all of the vision in my left eye was gone. As I stumbled onto the path, I tried pushing down the thought that anything was wrong, and I did so for the next year. Before that moment, I thought I had vision similar to everyone around me; I just had to wear my glasses to access it. No one knew about my complex vision when I was younger, or much about the genetic disorder that affects my whole body. The next time I went to the doctor was a year later. That doctor’s appointment led to much more: 4 surgeries, 6 weeks with my face down, and approximately 3,780 eye drops. The next winter is when I found para sport. Even though I couldn’t compete because I was too young, it was now an idea that had been placed in my head. 
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 Over the next year, with more surgeries and finding out the extent of my vision loss—like looking through a straw on the right with nothing on the left—I kept skiing on my able-bodied team because I loved it, but I felt very alone in doing so, knowing I was different. I had never known about the para community. I had never even met another blind person. I’ve had people surrounding me, but never had anyone to relate to in that way. In all my firsts this past year—whether that be skiing with a guide for the first time, my brother, my first para race, or my first Paralympic Games—they have helped me through all my firsts in such a short time. Now, as a Paralympic skier, I’m raising funds for myself and my ski guide, who is also my brother, because skiing is very expensive and I’m trying to continue competing while building my personal brand. Your support will help cover travel, gear, food, and everything that comes with skiing. Thank you for helping me keep going and continue becoming the light I hope to one day be for the little girl who is afraid of standing out and embracing every unique part of her story.

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