Tag: Angie Heuser

Brokenness to Masterpiece

Brokenness to Masterpiece

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The Canvas of Courage

 

What if the very thing you’ve been trying to hide… is actually the most beautiful part of your story?

This week on the BAWarrior Podcast, I found myself sitting in reflection after a weekend of rest, sunshine, and quiet moments here in Arizona. As spring starts to show up and life begins to feel a little lighter, I couldn’t help but think about something deeper, the parts of ourselves we often try to cover up. The broken pieces. The scars. The moments we wish never happened.

The Beauty in the Cracks

And I asked myself, and now I’m asking you, what if that brokenness isn’t something to fix or hide… but something to honor?

As an above-knee amputee, my brokenness is visible. It’s physical. But what people don’t always see is the emotional journey that comes with it. The uncertainty, the identity shifts, the moments of feeling completely lost. Even though my amputation was a choice after years of surgeries, I still didn’t know what the outcome of my life would look like. I didn’t know who I would become on the other side of that decision.

It felt like my life had been rerouted-like I was on one track, moving forward with a plan, and suddenly everything shifted. A new direction. A new identity. A new path I didn’t ask for.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize: that “mess”… that disruption… that brokenness… it became my canvas.

This week at church, I heard a phrase that stopped me in my tracks: the mess becomes the masterpiece. And I felt that deeply. Because there have been so many moments over the past seven years where I felt like an absolute mess. Not put together. Not polished. Not “figured out.”

But what if we’re not supposed to be?

What if the process; the struggle, the rebuilding, the redefining, is actually where the beauty is created?

So often, society tells us to fix what’s broken. Heal quickly. Move on. Or if we can’t fix it, hide it. Cover it up so no one sees. But I want to challenge that. Because those scars, those cracks, they tell a story. They show where you’ve been, what you’ve survived, and who you’ve become.

 

Honoring my scars, not hiding them

 

And I don’t see mine as something to hide anymore.

Every scar on my body represents a battle I fought and didn’t quit. Every challenge I’ve faced has shaped me into who I am today. I am still here. Still moving. Still growing. And that, to me, is something to be proud of.

Next month, as we move into Limb Loss and Limb Difference Awareness Month, I’ll be sharing more stories, because I believe so strongly in the power of storytelling. Every single person in this community has a story. And while they may look similar on the surface, the strength, the resilience, the warrior spirit behind each one is completely unique.

That’s why I named this podcast BAWarrior. Because I truly believe that’s what we are.

But being a warrior doesn’t mean life is easy. It means we fight. Daily. Sometimes hourly. We rise, even when the waves crash over us and try to pull us under. We find a way forward, even when it feels impossible.

And every one of those battles… every one of those cracks… becomes part of the masterpiece.

There’s a beautiful form of art, Kintsugi- a Japanese art that repairs broken pieces of pottery with gold! It symbolizes resilience, embracing imperfections, and the beauty of a repaired life. The cracks aren’t hidden. They’re highlighted. Honored. And in the end, the piece becomes even more beautiful because of where it was broken.

 

 

That’s us.

We are not less because of what we’ve been through. We are more.

So if you’re sitting here today feeling like a mess—good. That means something is being created. That means you’re in the middle of the process. And masterpieces take time. They aren’t rushed. They’re layered. Built stroke by stroke, day by day.

And here’s something I’ve learned along the way—when we take the focus off ourselves and begin lifting others up, something shifts. There’s healing in that. There’s purpose in that. When you help someone else rise, you rise too.

 

 

So this week, I want to give you something practical.

Name your cracks. What is your brokenness? Write it down. Then ask yourself—what meaning have I been giving this? And how can I rewrite that meaning?

And then—use it.

Use your story to help someone else feel less alone. Share it. Speak it. Own it. Because when you do, you’re not just healing yourself—you’re becoming a light for someone else who might be struggling in silence.

Stop covering your cracks.

Start honoring them.

Stand a little taller in your story. Smile when people look your way. Let curiosity open doors for connection. You are not something to hide—you are someone who has overcome.

And if you’re a woman walking this amputee journey and you’re looking for a place to grow, to be seen, and to be supported, I invite you to join our Amped Women virtual chats on Wednesdays. You don’t have to do this alone.

Because here’s the truth—I am still in the mess. Every day isn’t perfect. Every day isn’t easy. But I’m choosing to honor it. I’m choosing to trust that something beautiful is being created.

And I want that for you too.

You are not broken.

You are becoming.

You are a warrior.

And your masterpiece is still being written.

So chin up, rise up, warriors…

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!!

Much love,

 

 

Finding Your Place Again After Limb Loss

Finding Your Place Again After Limb Loss

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“The Name on the Bottom of My Foot”

 

 

Do you feel like you belong?

That’s the question I want to start with today. Because if you’re an amputee, or walking alongside someone who is, you’ve probably felt that quiet, unsettling shift… that moment where life no longer feels like it fits the way it used to.

Welcome back to BAWarrior Podcast, a space for resilience, healing, and living life amplified exactly as you are. I’m your host, Angie Heuser, and I’m walking this journey right alongside you as an above-knee amputee.

This past week, I did something playful… but it turned into something deeply meaningful.

I was outside, barefoot in the Arizona warmth, and I had my prosthetic off because I was using my running blade. And for whatever reason, I grabbed a marker and wrote the name “Andy” on the bottom of my prosthetic foot.

If you’re a Toy Story fan, you already know the reference. Andy writes his name on the bottom of Woody’s boot, and later Buzz’s foot, as a symbol of belonging. It means those toys have a place. They matter. They are part of something bigger.

 

 

And as soon as I wrote it… it hit me.

Isn’t that exactly what we’re all searching for after limb loss?

Because here’s the truth, amputation doesn’t just change your body. It changes your identity. It changes how you see yourself, how you move through the world, and how the world sometimes responds to you.

For me, seven years ago when I chose to amputate, it felt like I was on a train that suddenly switched tracks without warning. I wasn’t going where I thought I would anymore. And the first real question became:

Who am I now?

Because I didn’t feel like I belonged in my old life the same way. Yes, I was still a wife, a mom, an athlete, but I also stood out in ways I never had before. From wearing gym shoes everywhere because of my prosthetic limitations, to navigating how people perceived me, to questioning where I fit socially… it shook my confidence and my identity.

And what I’ve learned through talking to so many amputees is this:

The surgery isn’t the hardest part.

Learning to walk again isn’t even the hardest part.

The hardest part… is figuring out where you belong now.

That’s the piece no one really prepares you for.

And that’s where this idea of Andy’s name became so powerful to me.

 

 

Because in Toy Story, those toys aren’t afraid of being broken, they’re afraid of being forgotten. Of not having a place. Of not belonging anymore.

And isn’t that what we feel sometimes too?

But here’s the shift. Here’s where the warrior mindset comes in.

Instead of asking, “Why did this happen to me?”

I started asking, “What can I do with this?”

That mindset changed everything.

I began to see this journey not as an ending, but as a reinvention. I set goals. I pushed myself. I proved, to myself first, that I was still capable of living a full, meaningful life. And in that process, something bigger started to unfold.

This podcast was born.

Then the women’s amputee chat group.

Then stepping into research, working with incredible teams at MIT and Harvard, participating in studies, surgeries, and innovations to help move our community forward.

 

My Community, My friends who always have my back!

 

I found purpose.

And I realized something important:

Belonging doesn’t come from going back to who you were.

It comes from building who you are now.

Our adversity creates our strength.

Our identity evolves.

Our scars tell our stories.

And our community creates our belonging.

That’s why community matters so deeply.

Because sometimes, you won’t find belonging in the same places you used to. And that’s okay. We outgrow spaces. People come and go. Life shifts.

But there is a place for you.

Your new “toy box,” if you will.

A place where people understand you. Support you. See you, not in spite of your journey, but because of it.

That’s why I created the women’s chats. Because I saw how many women were struggling with identity, friendships, relationships, confidence… all of it. And they needed a space where they could just be real.

Because you don’t have to do this alone.

 

 

So here’s what I want you to do this week, your call to action.

I want you to mark yourself.

Not necessarily with a tattoo—but with something meaningful.

A word.

A symbol.

Your name.

A reminder.

Put it somewhere you’ll see it every day—your mirror, your prosthetic, your journal, your car.

Something that tells you:

I belong.

I have purpose.

I matter.

For me, it was “Andy.” It made me smile. It brought me back to special, warm memories with my kids. It gave me a sense of lightness and meaning all at once.

But yours can be whatever speaks to you.

Because on the hard days, and they will come, you need something to ground you. Something to remind you that even though life looks different…

You are still part of this story.

You are not forgotten.

You are not alone.

You are not without purpose.

You are evolving.

You are growing.

You are becoming.

So find your new community.

Find your purpose.

And most importantly…

Mark yourself in a way that reminds you—you still belong.

You are warriors.

You are strong.

And I am so proud of how far you’ve come—and where you’re going.

Until next time…

Be healthy,

Be happy,

Be YOU!!!

💛

Much Love,

 

 

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

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Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 30:39 — 33.2MB)

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Facing Fears, Letting Go,  and Breathing

 

What if the thing you’re most afraid of… is the exact mountain you were meant to ski?

Welcome back to Be a Warrior. I’m Angie Heuser — above knee amputee, equine therapy lover, skier, and someone who refuses to live life from the sidelines. And if you’ve been following me the past several weeks, you know we’ve been diving deep into the energy of the Year of the Fire Horse — a year of movement, momentum, fearless expansion, courage, and decisive action.

But before the fire horse came the snake.

And I can’t stop thinking about that metaphor.

The Year of the Snake ended February 16th — a year of shedding. And if you’ve ever seen a snakeskin left behind, you know it’s both fascinating and a little unsettling. Snakes don’t just slip out of their skin like changing clothes. They rub up against rough surfaces. They press into discomfort. Sometimes it takes extra effort around the face or certain tight spots to fully shed what no longer fits.

It’s not gentle.

And neither is growth.

When I think about amputee life — about losing a limb, whether by trauma, illness, or in my case, elective amputation after years of surgeries — there is so much shedding. Shedding fear of the unknown. Shedding anger. Shedding grief. Shedding the identity we once had. And it doesn’t happen smoothly. It happens against the rough edges of life.

But once the shedding is done?

The new skin is ready to grow.

And that’s where the Fire Horse comes in.

This year only happens every sixty years — the Horse combined with the element of Fire. It’s bold. It’s fast. It rewards courage. It exposes comfort. It does not tolerate stagnation. And if you’ve built your life around playing small, it’s going to make you very uncomfortable.

Which brings me to the ski slopes.

If you follow me online, you saw we were just in Park City. I’ve been skiing since I was seventeen — long before amputation. But I’ll tell you something honestly: there isn’t a single day I clip into my ski that I don’t feel fear.

Even now.

Especially now.

Three months after my amputation in 2018, I got back on the slopes. I had already missed five years of skiing due to surgeries. I had told my husband if I didn’t ski that April, I might never do it again. So I did it scared. I did it sick to my stomach. I did it unsure.

And here’s what skiing has taught me — lessons that mirror life perfectly.

First: the person in front of you has the right of way.

On the mountain, it’s your responsibility to avoid the skier ahead of you. What’s behind you? That’s their responsibility.

Isn’t that life?

If I constantly look behind me — at my past, my trauma, my failures — I lose balance. Literally. With one leg, if I look back, I fall. And metaphorically? Same thing. If I live looking backward, I miss the beauty and the hazards in front of me.

That doesn’t mean I ignore the past. I learn from it. I listen. I stay aware. But I don’t let it dictate my line down the mountain.

Second: you will face forks in the slope.

Left might be safe. Right might be steep. Green or black diamond. Easy or challenging.

Comfort or growth.

The Fire Horse energy says choose courage. Choose the line that stretches you. And I had that moment on this trip — two blue runs splitting off, one steeper than the other. I heard myself say, “Just go.”

So I did.

I picked up speed. I carved hard. I pushed myself. And eventually, my leg gave out and I ended up on my butt. Not a dramatic crash — more of a tired surrender.

 

Take five and reassess your path every now and then

 

But here’s the thing: I was proud of that fall.

Because if I’m not falling occasionally, I’m not pushing hard enough. Growth requires risk. Risk requires vulnerability. And vulnerability sometimes ends with snow in your face.

Warriors aren’t built in comfort.

They’re built in the steep sections.

Third: breathe.

One of the biggest lessons my ski instructors taught me after amputation was breathing rhythm. As I carve down the mountain, I exhale into the turn and inhale as I rise. The mountain becomes a rhythm — breathe in, breathe out.

When I hold my breath, I tense up. When I tense up, I rely too much on my upper body. When I breathe, I find flow.

How often in life do we grit our teeth and forget to breathe?

When we breathe through discomfort, we release tension. We think clearly. We stay grounded. Whether you’re walking in a prosthetic, stepping into a hard conversation, or heading into an interview — breathe.

 

 

Finally: visualize the run.

I watched Olympic skiers at the top of the mountain, eyes closed, moving their bodies as they mentally rehearsed every turn. They had already succeeded in their minds before pushing off.

That’s not luck. That’s preparation.

If you only visualize falling, you’ll hesitate. If you only picture failure, you’ll create it. But if you visualize walking confidently in your prosthesis… if you visualize that difficult conversation going well… if you see yourself succeeding — you are building neural pathways toward that outcome.

Will you still fall sometimes? Yes.

But falling isn’t failure. It’s feedback.

The Fire Horse doesn’t reward perfection. It rewards courage. It rewards action. It rewards getting uncomfortable.

I came home from those mountains thinking about all of you. About the warriors who are afraid to let that bold part of themselves out because it might mean discomfort. It might mean risk. It might mean exposing the places you’ve been playing small.

But that’s where grit is forged.

That’s where character is polished.

That’s where life gets amplified.

 

 

So here’s my call to action:

Do the thing that scares you this week. Maybe in baby steps. Maybe messy. Maybe imperfect. But do it.

If you fall, smile. Ask yourself what you just learned. Visualize the next attempt. Breathe. Adjust your line. And go again.

Stop waiting for the perfect mood, the perfect date, the perfect version of yourself.

The mountain is here. YOUR mountain!

Embrace it, charge forward!

The Fire Horse energy is here.

And you, warrior, are more capable than you think.

Have a be-YOU-tiful week ahead and as always,

Be healthy.

Be happy.

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

What’s your “mountain”?
Grab the Reins and Go!

Grab the Reins and Go!

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Moving from Recovery Mode into Momentum Mode

Year of the Fire Horse Part 5

 

 

There are seasons in life where we heal… and then there are seasons where we’re called to move again.

For a while, I was healing.

After my revision surgery and AMI procedure, my world slowed down whether I wanted it to or not. New sockets, new pain, scar tissue, relearning movement — it felt like starting over all over again. And just when I began to feel ready to push forward, life filled in the space. Holidays, responsibilities, travel, hosting, caring for others. Suddenly months had passed and I realized something important:

I wasn’t stuck because I couldn’t move forward.

I was stuck because I had gotten comfortable waiting.

This episode is about that moment of realization — the moment you understand that healing can quietly turn into hesitation if you’re not careful.

We’ve just stepped into the Year of the Fire Horse, and whether you follow that calendar or not, the symbolism matters. Fire brings energy, intensity, and transformation. The horse represents movement, courage, and momentum. Together, they create a once-in-a-lifetime invitation to stop sitting on the sidelines of your own life.

But before we can run forward, we have to shed what we’ve been carrying.

 

 

I talked about the Year of the Snake — the year we’re leaving — and how snakes shed their skin. They don’t gently outgrow it. They press themselves against rough surfaces to pull it off. Friction is required for renewal.

And honestly… that’s us.

Hard seasons, setbacks, medical struggles, emotional weight — those moments aren’t proof life is against us. They’re often the very process that removes the old version of us so a new one can exist. The mistake we make is trying to keep the old skin. We analyze it, revisit it, and sometimes build our identity around it instead of leaving it behind.

This year asks something different of us.

It asks us to stop waiting for perfect conditions.

As amputees especially, waiting becomes normal. We wait for appointments, healing, prosthetics, pain to calm down, energy to return. Waiting becomes a lifestyle. But at some point, waiting stops protecting us and starts limiting us.

 

 

So this episode is a challenge:

Stop saying “when things get better.”

Start asking “what can I do today?”

Because growth does not happen inside comfort.

Comfort leads to stagnation.

Stagnation leads to false alignment — a place where we convince ourselves we’re okay staying where we are, even when our heart knows we’re meant for more.

I see it in myself. I’ve been certified in equine therapy for months, yet I hesitated to begin. Not because I couldn’t… but because of the “what ifs.” What if I fail? What if I’m not ready? What if timing isn’t right?

But authenticity matters more than preparedness.

You grow by doing — not by waiting until fear disappears.

The Fire Horse energy is bold. It rewards decisive action, courage, and honesty with yourself. It exposes the places we hide in comfort and invites us to lead our lives instead of postponing them.

That doesn’t mean ignoring hard days. It means refusing to let them define every day.

If you’re not ready for a big challenge, start smaller.

Stop micromanaging everything wrong and start noticing what’s right. Write down blessings. Shift focus. Open your awareness to the parts of life still moving forward around you.

Because we are more than our bodies.

More than our pain.

More than our setbacks.

The warrior mindset isn’t pretending life isn’t hard — it’s deciding hardship won’t be the end of your story.

This episode is your reminder:

You don’t need a new year, a Monday, or perfect timing.

You need a decision.

Grab the reins.

Move forward.

Start now.

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

 

My blessings and the people who keep me going! ♥

 

 

 

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