Tag: Mindset Shift

Trust The Process

Trust The Process

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What if the very thing holding you back isn’t your body… but your fear?

In this week’s episode of Be a Warrior Podcast, I’m coming to you in real time  in the middle of something new, uncomfortable, and humbling. If you’ve been following along, you know last week I talked about life lessons from the ski slopes and how we have to stop looking down at our feet and start looking ahead at what’s coming. That lesson didn’t end on the mountain. It followed me straight into this week.

As an above-knee amputee, I’ve learned that one of our earliest survival habits is looking down. When you first get your prosthesis, you watch it constantly. You can’t feel your foot, so you visually confirm it’s there. Every step is deliberate. Every movement is monitored. Adaptive skiing taught me the same lesson when I ski with one leg, my instinct is to look down at my ski to make sure it’s under me. But when you look down, you miss what’s coming at you. Hazards. Forks in the road. The bigger picture.

And that’s not just skiing. That’s life.

This week, I’m leaning into something I do every year  choosing a word that will guide me. My word for 2026 is trust. And wouldn’t you know it? I was immediately handed an opportunity to live it.

A prosthetics company from France, Hopper, reached out and asked me to try their running blade. Now, if you know me, you know I’ve used a running blade before. I even completed a 10K during my first year as an amputee adding socks mid-race as my limb volume shrank, hoping my leg would stay on. That race required grit. It required strength. But above all, it required trust.

This new blade, however, is different. It required a different knee a microprocessor knee I’ve never used before. For six years I trusted my Ottobock C-Leg. Last September, I transitioned to the Össur Navi knee because it’s waterproof  I can snorkel with it, travel with it, take it into the ocean. I love how it responds. I trust it.

And now? I’m back at square one.

New knee. New blade. New mechanics. New fear.

New Blade- Trust the Process

 

Hopper Running Blade

Standing between parallel bars in an office, with people watching and cameras recording, I felt that old instinct creep back in. Tight muscles. Hesitation. Looking down. Wanting to be good immediately. Wanting to “perform.” Wanting to prove.

But trust doesn’t grow in 30 minutes under fluorescent lights.

So I brought the blade home.

And here I am walking in it around my house. Stepping outside. Trying to “run,” which currently looks more like a gallop from a newborn deer. It’s awkward. It’s humbling. It’s vulnerable.

And it’s exactly where growth happens.

Here’s what I’ve realized: when we don’t trust, fear takes over. And fear tightens us up. We don’t relax into movement. We don’t open up. We don’t visualize success we visualize what could go wrong.

What if I fall?

What if I break my wrist?

What if I embarrass myself in public?

I’ve fallen before. On sidewalks. In front of cars that didn’t even stop to check on me. I’ve tripped on hikes. I’ve fallen skiing. And every single time, I learned something.

Failure is feedback.

On my last ski trip, I intentionally chose the harder side of the slope. Why? Because I realized if I wasn’t falling, I probably wasn’t pushing. I did fall exhausted from aggressive turns my muscles weren’t prepared for. And that fall told me exactly what I needed to strengthen.

If we never risk failure, we never gather information.

And that applies far beyond prosthetics or skiing. It applies to relationships. To careers. To faith. To stepping into something new.

Trust requires us to first identify what we’re afraid of.

For me, I had to name it: I’m afraid of falling. I’m afraid of being embarrassed. I’m afraid of injury that could set me back. Once I name the fear, I can address it. Once I address it, I can begin building trust.

 

 

That’s my call to action for you this week.

First: choose a word. A guiding word for your year. Maybe it’s trust. Maybe it’s courage. Maybe it’s surrender. Maybe it’s strength. But choose something intentional.

Second: identify where fear is showing up in your life. Where are you tightening up? Where are you looking down instead of forward?

If you’re a new amputee and you’re exhausted from thinking through every step — I see you. I remember the mental drain of early prosthetic use. I remember wondering if I’d ever be able to carry laundry without watching my foot. And now? I do it without thinking.

But it took time.

It took repetition.

It took falling.

It took lifting my chin.

If you’re not wearing your prosthesis because you don’t trust it, the only way through is through. Wear it. Practice in your home. Slow your gait. Gradually lift your eyes forward. You will build that trust, one step at a time.

And if your struggle isn’t physical — if it’s relational, emotional, spiritual — the principle is the same. Face the fear. Name it. Then take one small step toward trust.

This week, I’m in the middle of it with you. Learning a new knee. Learning a new blade. Learning to open up again after five years of not truly running. I don’t know yet how it will end. But I know this: I won’t build trust by standing still.

There is a warrior within you. And warriors don’t avoid fear they walk straight into it with their chin lifted and their eyes forward.

So let’s do this together.

Choose your word.

Face your fear.

Trust the process.

And until next time,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

 

 

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! ♥

 

 

 

Pain, Perseverance & Possibility

Pain, Perseverance & Possibility

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Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 25:31 — 27.9MB)

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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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