Tag: amputee motivation

Pain, Perseverance & Possibility

Pain, Perseverance & Possibility

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A Thanksgiving Message For Anyone Struggling

 

Thanksgiving week always makes me pause, breathe, and step back into gratitude, but this year, that feeling hit me in a much deeper way. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was the experience itself, or maybe it was because of everything that led me here—but this past week in Vegas reminded me exactly why I chose this life, and why I continue to push myself to live amplified, even when it hurts.

Our family goes to the Formula One races every year—this was our third—and while we love the energy, the cars, and the whole spectacle of it, it is absolutely not an easy environment for someone with mobility challenges. As an above-knee amputee, I’ve learned that accessibility can be a coin toss on a good day. Vegas during F1 weekend takes that to a whole different level. Elevators that don’t work. Escalators that suddenly shut down. Crowds compressed shoulder to shoulder. Long detours around track barriers. Rain. Stairs. More stairs.

 

 

But this year came with a twist. Not only did we pack in a full day of walking, navigating the Strip, dodging people, climbing stairs, and exploring all the fanfare, but that night, after all of that, I finally checked off something that had been sitting on my bucket list for years: going to a Vegas nightclub.

And I didn’t just go. I went all in—heels, dancing, crowds, the whole thing.

What made the night more meaningful was the backdrop of everything my body was going through. My newest socket, trimmed higher because I’d lost some femur during surgery, still hasn’t fully broken in. The rubbing along my groin becomes a four-inch strip of fire by the end of the day, the kind of raw, stinging pain that makes even a shower burn. Think blister-on-your-heel level pain, except in a place you can never bandage. Add rain, cold weather, slick sidewalks, and 36,000 steps—the most I’ve ever walked in a single day even when I had two legs—and you can imagine how I felt by the time we walked into the club.

But then the music hit. And the energy shifted. Surrounded by my husband and my kids—my favorite people—and swallowed up in the beat and the lights, I felt alive. Not amputee alive. Not “making the best of it” alive. Just fully, completely alive.

In that moment, I didn’t care that no one around me knew I was an amputee. I didn’t care that all my weight was sinking into my good foot, making my toes tingle with pressure. I didn’t care that I had a raw mark on my inner thigh or that I was balancing on heels after a marathon day of movement. I was simply living the moment I had dreamed of for years.

And when I finally got home, when I finally took my leg off and felt that flood of relief wash over my whole body, I laid in bed and thought, “This… this is why I chose amputation.” I didn’t take my leg off to watch life happen from the sidelines. I didn’t choose this path to let pain, friction, or inconvenience dictate my happiness. I chose it to reclaim my life. And nights like that one remind me why I fought so hard to get here.

But here’s the part I don’t ever want people to misunderstand: none of this is easy. I’ve had people say I make it look effortless, or that they shouldn’t complain about their injuries because I “went through so much worse.” But I don’t see it that way. I don’t compare. I don’t downplay anyone’s struggle. And I definitely don’t wake up immune to the hard parts of this life. What I do wake up with is a mindset that says:

I chose this path, so I’m going to show up for it.

That mindset is the difference between living fully and shrinking back from life. It doesn’t mean there aren’t setbacks. There absolutely are. I have blisters. I have raw skin. I have days where I struggle to put my leg on. I have moments where the socket fit isn’t perfect. I have times where the thought of stairs makes my stomach drop. But the alternative—the idea of sitting in a hotel room, letting my family go off and make memories without me—is far more painful than any physical friction I deal with.

That’s why I said no when my husband offered to get me a wheelchair. Not because I’m stubborn, but because while I can, I will. There may be a day when I truly need one. But that day is not today. Today, I push. Today, I build stamina, strength, grit, and resilience. Today, I invest in the future version of myself who might not have the option anymore.

That’s the heart of this whole experience—and the message I want to share this Thanksgiving.

Life will never hand us perfect circumstances. Pain, obstacles, loss, grief, inconvenience—these things don’t discriminate. But neither does opportunity. If you want something badly enough, whether it’s dancing in a nightclub, traveling, adventuring, walking that extra mile, or simply showing up to life with your whole heart, then you owe it to yourself to try. You owe it to yourself to dream. And you owe it to yourself to change the mindset that tells you “I can’t.”

Because “I can’t” is almost always a lie.

“I can’t right now” is more accurate—and far more temporary.

 

 

So this week, I invite you to sit with two things:

First, gratitude.

Not just the obvious stuff—family, home, health—but the deeper gratitude for the strength you didn’t know you had and the moments you didn’t think you’d get to experience.

Second, possibility.

What do you dream of doing? What do you secretly hope you’re brave enough to try? What have you convinced yourself is off-limits?

Write it down.

Name it.

Claim it.

Then take one step—just one—toward it.

Because if a tired, rain-soaked, blistered amputee can take 36,000 steps in a day, climb broken escalators, dance in heels until almost 2 a.m., and fall asleep smiling…

Then you can take one step toward the life you want, too.

 

 

 

Here’s to you and a beautiful Thanksgiving with loved ones.

May you find joy in the moment and gratitude in the little things!

Until next time,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!

Much love,

 

Just Get Started

Just Get Started

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Momentum Begins with One Step

 

 

As the holidays creep up—and let’s be honest, sprint toward us—I always feel that yearly tug in a million different directions. I tell myself, This is the year I’ll slow down. This is the year I’ll savor the moments. And every year, without fail, I’m suddenly overscheduled, overtired, and fully submerged in the holiday hustle. Maybe you feel that too: the pull to do everything, be everything, and somehow stay balanced through it all.

So today, I want to dig into something that feels especially timely: getting started. Not after the holidays, not when life slows down—because we both know it won’t—not when it feels convenient or perfect, but now. Because “someday” is the biggest dream-killer we let linger in our lives.

If you’ve followed me through the last five and a half years of this podcast, you already know I’m not a New Year’s resolutions girl. I don’t believe in them. The moment we attach the idea of January 1st to our goals, we create an escape hatch where quitting feels expected. And most people do quit. Not because their goals weren’t worthy, but because the whole concept of a resolution is built around hype, not habit.

So let’s shift the mindset. Let’s reclaim the idea that today is always the right day to begin.

 

It took a lot of practice in safe areas before I could navigate rugged, mountain terrain.

 

There’s a quote I love by Zig Ziglar: “You don’t have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great.” And it hits me hard every time because I’ve lived that truth. I think of my husband explaining his work to our boys. Half the time I’m listening like he’s speaking another language. I’m not dumb—I’m just not educated in his world. And he’d be just as lost if I handed him a halter and asked him to read a horse’s body language.

Greatness, skill, confidence—they aren’t innate. They’re built through countless clumsy, uncertain beginnings.

 

And yet, I’ll be honest with you: I’ve held myself back from starting things I deeply want to do, simply because I wanted to be great before daring to begin. I didn’t want to stumble. I didn’t want to look foolish. I didn’t want to muddle through the awkward first steps.

Sound familiar?

But the truth is this: we must begin before we’re ready. We must risk the messy beginnings. We must accept that expertise is the reward of showing up, not the prerequisite.

 

 

And nowhere has this been more true for me than in my life as an amputee.

Arthur Ashe said, “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” If that doesn’t describe the amputee journey, I don’t know what does.

Where you are right now might be a hospital bed. It might be a physical therapy room. It might be your living room floor trying to figure out how to put on your first liner. You might be in the trust stage with your prosthesis—or the frustration stage. Maybe both.

But wherever you are, you have something you can begin with.

 

Even in the hospital bed I was journaling, goal setting and reading about ways to attack my goals and letting go of the “Hurry”.

When I was recovering from surgery this summer, stuck in a hospital bed, I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t train. I couldn’t be in my prosthesis. But I could start lining up appointments. I could coordinate with insurance. I could talk to my prosthetist and prepare for the moment my surgeon cleared me. I wasn’t waiting for life to happen to me—I was setting the stage.

And when that first prosthesis went on, and it felt like a ten-pound concrete block strapped to my body, all that preparation mattered. My muscles were weak. My endurance was gone. And I had absolutely NO idea how exhausting simply walking to the end of my block would be. But that’s where starting came in.

I didn’t begin by walking miles. I began by walking houses.

I didn’t build strength through ease. I built it through effort.

One of the best things I ever did was join a 175-mile virtual challenge. At the time, I thought, Two miles a day? Easy. Wrong. My first day wasn’t even a quarter mile before I had to stop. But every day, I pushed a little farther—one house, two houses, one street, one block. Eventually, those tiny victories strung together into big victories. And then into medals. And then into confidence.

Today, I’ve completed around twenty-five virtual races. And I didn’t start able to do any of it. I started barely able to walk in my own house.

That’s what starting does. It reshapes your identity from the inside out.

 

So here’s my challenge to you: begin today. Not a week from now. Not when you “feel ready.” Not when you believe you’re strong enough or smart enough or capable enough. Begin now, with exactly what you have in this moment.

Pick one goal—not fifteen. One thing you’ve been afraid to start or have kept putting off. One thing that makes your heartbeat pick up when you imagine accomplishing it.

Then write down the steps. What can you do today? What’s the smallest action that moves you forward?

You don’t need perfect conditions. You need commitment.

And as you start, give yourself grace. Some days will be setbacks, especially if you’re healing. Some days your body won’t cooperate. Some moments will feel defeating. But don’t let a bad day turn into a bad week, and don’t let a bad week become a lost year.

Warriors rise. Warriors begin. Warriors keep going.

I’m starting my own new goal today. I promise that. And I want to hear yours. Message me on Instagram at @BAWarrior360. Let’s do this together. Let me be your accountability partner if you need one.

Because the secret to getting ahead is simple: get started.

Have a blessed week ahead, and as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

Much love,

 

 

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