While paralyzed, I won a gold and three silver medals as a competitive swimmer.
Every time I dance, it's a tremendous blessing, and I just can't forget that.
I know from my experience as a swimmer that you put in the work and practice, and come game day, your body is ready, and you just have to trust your training.
My swim coach was very tough on me, and I respond well to that training... being pushed to my limit.
Swimming is still very much a part of me.
'Good Life' was my gold-medal song and is what I sing when I need to get focused and keep calm. It also just makes me super happy, and I love jamming out.
It's actually more work for me to not smile than to smile.
I'm a firm believer that every morning brings a new opportunity for me to conquer the day.
I love to swim, and what I have been able to do - give people hope.
I was told that I would be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.
I was told it couldn't be done. My dream was impossible. But on March 3, 2016, after spending 10 years in a wheelchair paralyzed from the waist down, I took my first steps without assistance. That was no easy task.
At some points, hope was the only thing I had. When I began my journey toward walking again, I clung to hope like a life raft.
I have these big brown eyes, so ever since I was a baby, you could tell what I was feeling and thinking based on my eyes.
I grew up doing tap, jazz, and ballet, so I understand rhythm and movement and performing.
You know that feeling when your leg falls asleep and you can't really feel it or move it? Well, that's what my legs feel like all the time, so being fluid and graceful has been difficult.
It's been a reality check that my muscles are still really affected by my spinal cord injury, but it's also been super empowering to see how much I'm capable of.
When I was 10 years old, 'Dancing with the Stars' premiered, and I told my mom, 'I'm going to be on that show one day.'
I'm honored to be a part of the #ShowEm campaign because it recognizes the importance of who we are at our core and what drives us to become who we want to be, no matter what obstacles we face. Jockey has given me a platform to show people that the impossible can be possible if you keep fighting and believing.
When you have a spinal or brain injury, or any kind of devastating illness, you kind of fall through the cracks in a sense. Your world implodes, and no one is really there to help pick up the pieces.
The traditional tango is really staccato, but with the Argentine tango, you have to be really sexy and saucy.
