As I sit down to record this episode, it honestly feels surreal. This is the final episode of 2025 and the close of Season Five of Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior. Five years. 210 episodes in all! When I say that out loud, it stops me in my tracks a little. What started as a quiet nudge on my heart has grown into something that now feels woven into my life, my healing, and my purpose.

 

My 2025 year in review

 

If you’ve been with me on this journey for a while, thank you. Truly. You are part of this family. And if you’re new here, welcome. I hope you’ll stick around—because Season Six starts next week, and I can hardly believe I get to say that.

When I launched this podcast, I didn’t have a master plan. I wasn’t chasing perfection, production polish, or algorithms. I was chasing meaning. My prayer from the very beginning was simple: If this reaches one person—if it brings hope, peace, or strength to someone in the middle of chaos—then it’s worth it.

This podcast exists because of my faith, my lived experience, and the road that brought me here—one that forever changed on December 19th, 2018. That was the day I chose an elective above-knee amputation after five years of failed surgeries following a taekwondo accident. Five years of fighting my own body. Five years of pain, loss, and unanswered questions.

 

My TaeKwonDo time, pre-amputation

 

If you’ve never heard my full amputation story, I shared it back in Season One. And honestly, as I step into Season Six, I may revisit it again—because time gives perspective, and perspective gives depth.

My first full year as an amputee was 2019, and I set goals like my life depended on it. And in many ways, it did. I hit every single one. I skied again. I surfed. I water skied. I hiked. I rode horses. I proved to myself, my doctors, my family—and maybe the world—that I wasn’t disabled. I was differently abled.

But once I checked every box, something unexpected happened. I felt empty.

That emptiness wasn’t failure—it was calling. I realized I wasn’t meant to keep all of that hard-earned wisdom to myself. I wasn’t meant to just do life again. I was meant to share it. That’s where this podcast was born.

I’ll be honest—I don’t love listening to myself talk. I don’t script these episodes. I don’t cut out the pauses or clean up the edges. There’s an intro, there’s an outro, and everything in between is real. I show up as a mom, a wife, an amputee, a human still figuring it out. This podcast is raw on purpose—because life is raw.

As this year closes, we’re also shifting seasons symbolically. If you follow the Chinese calendar, we’re leaving the Year of the Snake and entering the Year of the Horse. And if you know me at all, you know how much that resonates. Horses have become central to my healing and my heart.

 

 

As a little girl growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, I dreamed of horses, but access and finances made it unrealistic. Life had other plans. It wasn’t until after I lost my leg that horses came back into my life in a powerful way. I reached out to a friend who worked with rescue horses, and something clicked—deeply and instantly.

That connection led me to become certified in horse training, advanced training, and most recently equine therapy. Horses taught me regulation, presence, trust, and stillness in ways nothing else ever had—especially after trauma. Now, I work with people who are searching for grounding, healing, and reconnection to their bodies, especially after limb loss.

The Year of the Horse represents freedom, movement, soul searching, and wellness. And honestly, I can’t think of a better theme for what’s ahead. I don’t know exactly what this year will bring—but I know I’m ready to meet it.

If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. I think the phrase itself sets us up to fail. Words carry power. When we label something as temporary or flimsy, our minds treat it that way. By February, resolutions fade, gyms empty out, and people convince themselves they’ll “start again later.”

So instead, I believe in fresh starts. Turning a page. New perspective.

And one of my favorite end-of-year rituals is choosing a word—or a short phrase—to guide the year ahead. Not a checklist. A compass.

Last year, my words were ‘Be Present’. And those words carried me through one of the most challenging years of my life. In May, I traveled to Boston to see if I qualified for an experimental procedure and revision surgery. In June, I had surgery. July through September were filled with healing, setbacks, crutches, fittings, and learning my body all over again.

Through it all, I stayed present. I documented the journey. I let myself feel it. And when the holidays arrived—busy, beautiful, chaotic—I stayed present there too. I soaked up baking, gift-making, family moments, and even the exhaustion. I welcomed January’s slower rhythm with gratitude instead of guilt.

This year, my word found me quietly—in church, listening to our pastor speak.

My word for the coming year is ‘Trust”.

That word is heavy in the best way.

Trusting the process. Trusting the people around me. Trusting my body as it continues to change. Trusting God’s timing—even when it doesn’t match my own.

I like control. I like schedules. I like certainty. And trust requires letting go. It’s a trust fall—stepping back and believing you’ll be caught.

My prosthetic journey is still unfolding. My leg continues to change. A new socket is likely coming soon. Nothing feels finished or neat right now—and that’s okay. This year, I’m choosing to stop forcing outcomes and start allowing space.

If something is meant to be, it will unfold. And if it isn’t, that doesn’t mean it was a failure. Sometimes closed doors are protection. Sometimes the blessing only makes sense in hindsight.

 

 

So here’s my invitation to you.

As we sit in this quiet space between years, I want you to choose a word or phrase of your own. Something that speaks to where you are—not where you think you should be.

Be honest. Reflect. Meditate on it. Ask yourself where you struggled this year and where you want to grow—not from shame, but from curiosity.

Write your word down. Put it somewhere visible. Make it your screensaver. Stick it on your mirror. Tell someone you trust. Accountability matters. Growth requires reflection—and sometimes reminders.

And remember this: you are not meant to be at the same place as everyone else. We rise and fall at different times so we can lift each other when it’s needed. Start with yourself. Speak kindly to yourself. Life is too short for your own inner voice to be your harshest critic.

You are already enough. Growth is not about fixing yourself—it’s about expanding into who you already are.

As I close this chapter, I want to thank you for being here. For listening. For trusting me with your time and your heart. If this podcast gave you even one moment of hope or clarity this year, then it has done its job.

Season Six is coming. New challenges are coming. A virtual race is on the horizon. And the Year of the Horse is inviting us forward—with strength, freedom, and trust.

Until next year—keep showing up, keep listening to your heart, and trust the process.