Tag: Life After Amputation

The Courage To Belong

The Courage To Belong

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Feeling Alone After Amputation? Why Community Is Part of Healing

 

 

Have you ever felt completely alone—even while surrounded by people who love you?

For many amputees, loneliness isn’t about the absence of family or friends. It’s about carrying a journey that very few people truly understand. In this heartfelt episode of the BAWarrior Podcast, I share an honest conversation about isolation, fear, healing, and the courage it takes to build meaningful community.

Drawing from my own experiences and countless conversations with amputees, I explore why loneliness often becomes one of the greatest hidden challenges after limb loss. The mental load of navigating everyday life, the quiet nights when phantom pain and anxious thoughts seem the loudest, and how fear can slowly convince us that staying home feels safer than stepping back into the world are all a part of our journey.

But healing was never meant to happen in isolation.

Throughout the episode, I talk about how community becomes one of the most powerful tools in recovery. Whether it’s sharing your story, joining an amputee support group, striking up a conversation at the gym, or simply reaching out to one other person who understands your journey, every connection becomes another step toward healing. Remember that telling your story doesn’t make you weak, it helps release the weight you’ve been carrying while encouraging someone else who may feel just as alone.

This episode also explores the importance of boldness. Community doesn’t magically appear; someone has to take the first step. Whether that’s sending a text, attending a virtual support group, introducing yourself to another amputee, or simply saying hello to a neighbor, courage opens the door to belonging.

As I prepare to launch my new Faith Through the Fire series, I have been reflecting on how faith, resilience, and community often come together when we choose to move beyond fear. I want to encourage you to embrace this new chapter after amputation—not as the end of life, but as the beginning of a richer, more connected one.

 

 

If you’ve been struggling with loneliness after amputation, phantom pain, fear of falling, or simply wondering if anyone truly understands what you’re going through, this episode serves as a reminder that you are not alone. There is hope, there is healing, and there is a community waiting to welcome you.

 

This week, take one brave step.

Reach out to one person. Send one text. Join one support group. Attend one Zoom meeting. Introduce yourself to another amputee. Healing begins when isolation ends, and community starts with one courageous decision.

If you’re looking for connection, visit WarriorGround.org to learn more about the BAWarrior Podcast, Amped Women virtual gatherings, Warrior Circle, and other opportunities to connect with people who truly understand the amputee journey.

 

Connect with another amputee

 

Get outside, bring a friend

 

Surround yourself with those who want to see you succeed as much as they want to, and love you for who you are!

 

 

Remember: You don’t have to walk this journey alone.

 

Have a beautifully blessed week,

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

 

 

Courage, Authenticity, and Decisive Action for Amputees

Courage, Authenticity, and Decisive Action for Amputees

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Year of the Fire Horse Part 4 Embrace Courage and Move Forward

 

 

 

There comes a moment when life asks you a hard question: Are you ready to stop waiting and start leading your own life? Not tomorrow. Not when things feel easier. But now—right where you are, exactly as you are. That’s the space this episode lives in. And as we stand on the edge of the Year of the Fire Horse, that question feels louder, bolder, and impossible to ignore.

As we move closer to February 17th, the official start of the Year of the Fire Horse, I wanted to pause, breathe, and prepare—for myself and for you. Because this year carries a rare combination of energy and power that only comes once every sixty years. And if we’re ready for it, it can change everything.

I’ll be honest: I don’t typically follow the Chinese calendar. I’m a Christian, and my faith anchors me. But if you put a horse anywhere near my path, I pay attention. Horses transformed my life after amputation, which is why I pursued my equine therapy certification. I believe deeply in their power—movement, intuition, strength—and I believe this year invites us to embody those same qualities. This isn’t about superstition. It’s about preparation, intention, and courage.

Ole Ben, loves quiet time!

Me and my girl, Sakari. She is my Soul Horse!

 

This episode is part of a series designed to help you step into this new year with clarity and confidence. Over the past few weeks, we’ve talked about movement, momentum, fearless expansion, and the shift from waiting to leading. Because waiting—especially as an amputee—can quietly become a habit. We tell ourselves we’ll start when the pain eases, when our body feels better, when life calms down. And while rest is sometimes necessary, waiting can also keep us stuck.

 

Quiet Energy…

 

…And silliness!

 

I speak from experience. I’ve been an amputee for seven years now, and this is season six of the podcast. That first year after my amputation, I set goals and attacked them with everything I had. I was done letting life pass me by. I learned quickly that growth doesn’t happen by sitting back—it happens by stepping forward, even when it’s uncomfortable.

This week, we dive into three essential pillars: courage, authenticity, and decisive action. Because dreams without plans stay dreams. Saying “I want to walk better” or “I want to feel stronger” means nothing if we don’t define what that looks like. Decisive action requires clarity. It requires writing things down. Being specific. Holding ourselves accountable.

 

Finding the determination and taking action despite how you feel is courageous!

 

For me, that clarity began before my amputation. I created a vision board months before surgery—photos of my family, Bible verses, meaningful quotes, and images of the life I wanted to return to. Skiing. Movement. Strength. That board sat next to my bed for four months, reminding me daily that I am more than my body. That I am more than what was being taken from me. And that belief carried me forward.

 

My Vision Board

But belief alone isn’t enough. Action matters. And action, as an amputee, is complicated. Learning to walk again isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, mental, and exhausting. Trusting a prosthetic leg takes time. Wearing it can feel heavy, claustrophobic, painful. Some days, seven years later, I still struggle. And I share that because authenticity matters. This journey isn’t linear, and pretending otherwise helps no one.

One of the tools that helped me most was creating “carrots”—clear motivators that pulled me forward. For me, that came in the form of virtual races. Not because I needed to run, but because I needed a reason to move. Walking, rowing, swimming, chair yoga—movement in any form counts. Since my amputation, I’ve completed over twenty virtual challenges, some as long as 175 miles. Not to compete with anyone else—but to be better than I was yesterday.

 

SOME of my virtual races- all completed AFTER amputation! My motivation!

 

That’s the heart of this episode. You are not competing with anyone but yourself. Comparison steals joy. Progress—no matter how small—builds momentum. Some days, progress looks like wearing your leg for two hours instead of none. Some days, it looks like standing instead of sitting. Some days, it looks like crying and still choosing not to quit.

Courage doesn’t mean fear disappears. I’m scared sometimes—scared to fall, scared to trust my body, scared to push too far. But courage is choosing to move anyway. Authenticity is honoring the hard days without surrendering to them. And decisive action is committing to your life, even when it’s uncomfortable.

 

 

 

I close this episode with a call to action that’s simple—but powerful. Find a quiet place this week. No distractions. No to-do lists. Breathe. And picture your life twelve months from now. How does your body feel? How do you move? What are you proud of? Then write it down—and work backward to create small steps toward your goals. That’s how transformation happens.

The Year of the Fire Horse is not a year to sit back. It’s a year to lead, to grow, to fall and rise again. And you don’t have to do it alone. No matter where you are in your journey—new amputee, seasoned warrior, or someone simply struggling with life—I’m here. Let’s walk this together.

 

If you are interested in joining me, virtually, on this Year of the Fire Horse challenge you can sign up here

Use the discount code JOLLY and receive 30% off your registration!

 

Women, I have a private group to motivate each other on Facebook. Find me and inquire on how to join!

 

I look forward to supporting one another this year!

Have a beautiful week ahead,

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

You are braver than you know!

Energy-Fast, Bold, and Passionate

Energy-Fast, Bold, and Passionate

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Using Your Momentum to Accomplish Great Things (part 2)

 

 

Today I invite you into a deeper conversation about movement, momentum, and what I believe is a powerful energetic shift ahead of us: the Year of the Fire Horse. As an above-knee amputee, a lifelong horse girl, and someone who has learned to rebuild life step by step, this theme resonates with me on every level. The Fire Horse represents bold energy, passion, speed, and expansion—but only if we’re willing to meet it with intention and preparation.

 

 

Last week, I challenged you to focus on movement. Not perfection. Not comparison. Just movement—forward motion, wherever you are in your journey. Because movement creates momentum, and momentum opens the door to growth. That growth is what I call fearless expansion. And let me be very clear: fearless expansion doesn’t mean the absence of fear. Fear is always present, especially as an amputee. Every literal step forward requires trust—trust in my prosthesis, trust in my body, and trust in myself. Early on, I couldn’t even imagine carrying laundry with my vision blocked, let alone trusting my leg to land where it needed to. That confidence didn’t come overnight. It came from doing the thing scared, over and over again, until fear loosened its grip.

 

This ⇑ leads to this ⇓ And that’s why setting goals and staying focused on them matters.

 

 

I want to remind you that this journey is never linear. Prosthetic life is full of pauses, setbacks, socket changes, surgeries, and seasons of limbo. There are times when pushing harder simply isn’t possible—and that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re human. I’ve taken years off from pushing my pace, not because I was lazy, but because my body wasn’t ready. And that’s okay. We are not competing with anyone else—especially not the curated versions of people we see online. The only comparison that matters is who you were yesterday.

This brings me to the next layer of the Fire Horse energy: boldness, speed, and passion. This is the kind of energy that’s impossible to ignore. It can fuel incredible growth—or become overwhelming if we aren’t grounded. That’s why preparation matters. Before my amputation, I did something that changed everything: I set goals before surgery. Month by month. Not because I knew how things would turn out, but because I didn’t want fear to be my focus. I wanted my eyes on the horizon.

 

These virtual races kept me focused and helped me get stronger. These medals tell my story, one I am proud of.

 

Those goals didn’t start big. My first win was simply getting out of the house alone. That one decision led me to adaptive sports, sled hockey, skiing, virtual races, surfing, and eventually completing a 10K with a running blade. None of it happened by accident. Every step required intention, planning, and a willingness to try—even when I wasn’t sure I’d succeed.

Virtual races, in particular, saved me. They gave me accountability and something to work toward when motivation was low. I wouldn’t even open the medals until I earned them. On good socket days, I pushed myself. On bad days, I rested. But I kept showing up. And every time I finished something I once thought was impossible, I felt alive again. Capable. Limitless.

That’s the power of momentum. It builds confidence. And confidence changes everything.

As we approach the Year of the Fire Horse, I want you to pause and ask yourself: What do I truly want to accomplish in the next twelve months? Not what feels “realistic.” Not what others expect of you. What lives in your heart? What lights you up? This energy can either propel you forward or spiral into negativity if you’re unprepared. The difference is mindset and planning.

 

 

This week’s call to action builds on last week’s. Keep moving—but now, zoom out. Create a one-year vision. Look at your calendar. Are there trips coming up? Experiences you’ve avoided because of fear, injury, or amputation? Hiking, traveling, trying a new sport, or simply walking confidently in your neighborhood—none of these happen overnight. They require preparation, strength building, and patience. And that preparation starts now.

I’ve never jumped blindly into anything. When I returned to skiing, I sought adaptive instruction. I practiced balance, core strength, and walking long before I hit the slopes. Every year, I have to rebuild again. That’s life. The work never truly ends—but neither does the growth.

Amputation is not the end of life. It’s a beginning. A reinvention. And the truth is, anything goes. If you try something and it doesn’t work, so what? You tried. You learn. You pivot. You try again. I never surfed before my amputation—and now it’s something I love. You don’t know what’s waiting for you on the other side of fear.

This year carries powerful energy. If you open yourself up to it with intention, incredible things can happen. Dream big. Make a plan. Start today—not Monday, not when it feels right. It will never feel perfect. But action creates clarity, and clarity creates momentum.

The warrior within you is ready. This is the year to let them out. Use the fire. Harness the momentum. And gallop forward into the life you want—one brave step at a time.

Have a beautifully, blessed week and as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!

 

Much love,

 

 

 

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,

 

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