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Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior

Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior

Written by: Angie Heuser
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 Breaking through mental and physical barriers to becoming your best self, living your best life.©2021 Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior Podcasting Hygiene & Healthy Living
Episodes
  • A Year of Movement, Momentum and Fearless Expansion

    A Year of Movement, Momentum and Fearless Expansion
    Jan 21 2026
    The Year of The Fire Horse Part 1 As I sat down to share this episode, we are in that weird blur between the holidays and the start of the new year—January 21st to be exact. Somehow we’re saying goodbye to January already and I’m still not sure how time is moving this fast. To be honest, I am a little under the weather today. A trip back home to Chicago gifted me more than nostalgia—sniffles and congestion that love to linger. But if there’s anything amputee life has taught me, it’s how to show up anyway. Healing isn’t always linear, progress isn’t always pretty, and sometimes the real strength is simply being here. If you’ve been with me for a while, you already know how excited I am about 2026. This is the Year of the Horse, and I have unapologetically embraced it. Horses are my heart—right alongside my pups—and spending time with them is healing in motion. I was out loving on them earlier that morning, enjoying Arizona sunshine that feels a little too warm for January. (I’m still waiting for winter to show up so I can actually appreciate the desert heat again.) But weather aside, the symbolism of the horse couldn’t align more powerfully with the season I’m in—and the season many of you are in. What makes this year even more rare is that it isn’t just the Year of the Horse. It is the Year of the Fire Horse, a cycle that doesn’t come around often in the Chinese calendar. Fire brings imagery of energy, power, movement, and drive—big, explosive energy that demands expansion. When I learned that, I immediately knew I wanted to infuse that symbolism into our lives this year, especially within the amputee community. Now, if you’re not an amputee, don’t tune out. The beauty of this journey is that the lessons apply to anyone navigating hardship—whether your challenges are physical, medical, emotional, relational, or even professional. Struggle doesn’t discriminate. But neither does growth. I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s resolutions. January feels messy—physically, mentally, and emotionally. We’re recovering from holidays, reorganizing homes, resetting routines, trying to remember what vegetables look like, and wrestling with motivation that hasn’t thawed out yet. I spent those early weeks decluttering my body from holiday eating and drinking, refreshing my home, and re-establishing rhythms that support who I want to be—not just who I’ve been. For me, that looks like eating cleaner, scheduling movement, and taking care of my mind, my leg, my family, and my horses. I’m not a rigid scheduler by nature, but with so many things I love doing, I can’t always choose—and then nothing gets done. So sometimes structure serves us. While reading about the Year of the Fire Horse, five symbolic themes showed up. I decided I’m going to break them down over several episodes and explore how they can shape our growth. Unless something major happens in my own life (because I always speak from personal experience first), we’re riding that theme for a bit. The first Fire Horse theme? Movement, Momentum, and Fearless Expansion. Three words. Three mountains. Three invitations. Let’s start with movement. If you’re an amputee and you’re unhappy with where you’re at—maybe you’re watching others do things you wish you could do—the number one thing I’ll tell you is this: do not compare yourself to anyone else. Amputee life is not one size fits all. Body types, limb levels, insurance coverage, prosthetic technology, pain tolerance, terrain, weather, confidence—all of it changes the picture. Someone in snowy Minnesota isn’t out hiking in January. Someone in Arizona isn’t out walking at 115°F. Our seasons look different literally and figuratively. And that’s okay. But movement matters. In fact, movement is everything. Movement is how we reclaim our bodies. Movement is how we rebuild trust. Movement is how we protect our mental health. Movement is how we remind ourselves we’re alive. Prosthetics don’t move us—we move us. Insurance coverage doesn’t give us grit—we give us grit. And movement isn’t pain-free, effortless, or pretty in the beginning. It’s awkward. It’s exhausting. It’s uncomfortable. And some days it just feels unfair. But movement is life, and life demands movement. Even if you’re not on a prosthetic yet, wheelchairs, crutches, walkers—pushing yourself counts. Motion burns energy, heals the mind, and keeps you connected to your body and your environment. And with movement comes momentum. Momentum isn’t about speed—it’s about direction. It’s about choosing to walk to the end of the driveway today, past the neighbor’s house tomorrow, and maybe around the block next week. Those baby steps are not insignificant. They are data. They are discipline. They are the quiet stacking of strength. I still remember thinking I could walk a mile as soon as I got cleared for my prosthetic. I didn’t make it ...
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    27 mins
  • Walk The Line

    Walk The Line
    Jan 15 2026
    Friendships Versus Hardships The hard truths of handling your friendships (and relationships, for that matter), and going through amputation is definitely a hot topic in our community. And quite frankly, if you are going through ANY hardship you might feel a sense of pull back or even a good friend vanish into thin air as if they were just a figment of your imagination. Becoming an amputee is a lonely gig. You deal with a lot of emotions, phantom pains and unnatural feelings that cannot be explained to someone who hasn’t gone through the lose of a limb, the fitting and feels of a socket and metal leg, not to mention the night time when pains take over and the dark and quietness of the night are suffocating, etc, etc, etc. Now, add to this the frustrations you feel when the surgery is all done, you’ve healed and life goes on….. for everyone else around you! Yet here you are still stuck with the pains, sensations, feeling vulnerable, questioning your future and your independence, doubting yourself, hating the way you look and feel, being angry and sad all in the same breathe, but your closest friends just can’t listen to it all anymore, they’ve moved on, but you haven’t. Well, it’s time to check yourself. Are you consumed with all the things you’re feeling or spending hours upon hours in a negative place, struggling to get out? Have you tried to see yourself as more than an amputee or the victim of this scenario? I don’t blame you, we all have those days but you cannot live there! It’s unhealthy and that negative energy that will ruin you and your relationships. It’s time to find your space and that means seeing the positive, finding the beauty where you are at. Finding your purpose and allowing that to fuel you won’t only do you good it’ll draw others to you, like a beacon on a darkened hilltop. This does not mean that you shouldn’t validate your pain or your feelings, but it does mean find a balance. I don’t talk about the pain I go through because talking about it gives it power and I won’t have that. It doesn’t serve me or make me feel better so I push it aside. However somedays it is all I can do not to spend a day in tears because I cannot escape my pain, and those days I let me family and close friends know what I’m going through so they aren’t smacked with my emotions and possible anger. There are two sides to this fine line we walk, and our relationships, if important and valuable to us, must be a constant give and take. We cannot expect those who love us to sit and listen to all of our negativity while we change nothing or try to help ourselves. And remember, everyone has hardships. Are you caring about those who you love like you expect them to care about you? We must be willing to reciprocate that compassion. Even as amputees, when we are having a great day that’s a perfect time for us to support someone who isn’t. We must learn to fill each other up, not just take and deplete our relationships to they are dried out and a dark void. Relationships die, and people leave when they no longer feel seen, heard, or cared about. On the flip side, friends come into our lives for seasons, reasons, or lifetimes. There are some people that just are not cut out to deal with someone else’s plight, or have low tolerance for negative chatter, they may need more attention than you can give while dealing with your amputation or they are threatened by you situation. Whatever it is, it may not be on you. The two sides: Side 1: As an amputee who feels like everyone is leaving you. Are you speaking more negatives than positives? Are you monopolizing every conversation with talk about your “predicament”? Is the only thing on your mind your ampuatation and nothing else seems to matter? Then you need to flip the switch and start speaking positivity into your life and into your family and friends’ lives. Your amputation does NOT define you, it does NOT limit you, only you can do that. Are your relationships important? Then find a balance. I’m not saying you should never talk about your problem or your struggles but remember that there is more to you and life than your amputation. Find the positive of being an amputee even if you need to force a bad joke. I always tell my family when my handicap sign saves us from awful walk to an event, “Thank Goodness, my lack of a leg saved us again! You’re welcome!” We laugh and truly enjoy the perks, and I’m happy it hs afforded us some great seats at sporting events. *Perk! Side 2: The friend or family member of an amputee What they are going through is hard and we are told that we may grieve the lose of our limb like we grieve when someone dies. Remember that healing from an amputation is only the beginning of our journey and everyday is so very different. The first 2 years is screwy, hard, emotional, and leaves us feeling lone in a crowded room. Allow your friend or family member talk about it and ...
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    26 mins
  • Unleash the Warrior Within You

    Unleash the Warrior Within You
    Jan 7 2026
    The Year of the Fire Horse and the Power of Becoming Welcome to Season Six of the Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior (BA Warrior) Podcast—a milestone that still takes my breath away. If you had told me years ago that I would be hosting a podcast, let alone entering its sixth season, I would have laughed. It was never a dream I set out to chase. And yet, here we are. Proof that life doesn’t always unfold according to our plans—but often according to something far greater. If you’re new here, I want to personally welcome you. And if you’ve been walking this road with me for years, please know how deeply grateful I am. Your messages, your comments, your shared stories, and your willingness to show up week after week are the reason this podcast exists. Be a Warrior is not something I do alone—it’s something we build together. This podcast is rooted in amputee life. I am an above-knee amputee and have been for seven years. Everything I share comes from lived experience—the victories, the mistakes, the frustrations, the growth, and the moments that test every ounce of resilience. My hope has always been that by sharing my journey honestly, someone else might feel less alone in theirs. A New Season, A New Energy Season Six begins with a theme that feels deeply personal to me: the Year of the Horse—specifically, the Fire Horse. This year carries amplified energy, movement, instinct, and transformation. It also aligns beautifully with where I am in life right now. I recently completed my equine therapy certification, which allows me to bring the healing power of horses to others in a deeper, more intentional way. Horses have long been part of my life, but this year marks a turning point—where passion, purpose, and service come together. My goal for 2026 is to help expand access to equine therapy for overall well-being, especially for people navigating trauma, change, or physical loss. But before we talk about where we’re going, let me tell you how this year actually started—because it wasn’t graceful. A Rough Start and an Important Lesson My husband and I took a short getaway to Sedona, Arizona—a place that feels like a deep breath for the soul. We live in the desert, but a quick drive north brings cooler air, pine trees, red rocks, and a sense of escape. It was meant to be a simple, restorative weekend. In typical fashion, I packed last minute. I grabbed my makeup, hair products, clothes—and we were out the door. What I didn’t grab? Two things no above-knee amputee should ever forget: My prosthetic charging cordThe bag I use to pull my leg into my socket My bag to put my socket on….that I forgot. I realized the charging cord was missing first. Panic set in—until I checked my prosthetic’s battery level. Eighty-two percent. I could manage one day. Then came the second realization. No bag. For those unfamiliar, I am a skin-fit amputee, meaning I don’t use liners or traditional suction. My leg requires a specific bag to pull the skin properly into the socket. Without it, my prosthesis does not go on. No shortcuts. No substitutes—at least, not easily. I didn’t sleep that night. I ran through every possible outcome: crutching around town, canceling plans, going home early. I was frustrated—not just because I forgot something critical, but because I knew better. Ironically, the reason I forgot was also a sign of progress. I had become so comfortable in my body, so confident in my mobility, that I wasn’t thinking about “what ifs” anymore. My prosthesis had become as normal to me as legs are to two-legged people. Comfort is a gift—but complacency can be costly. Adaptation Is a Warrior Skill The next morning, I went into full problem-solving mode. I asked myself: What do I have? What can I use? Garbage bags wouldn’t work—they’d tear. A standard pillowcase was too thick. Then I spotted a silk pillowcase. Thin. Slippery. Flexible. It wasn’t perfect—but it worked. I was able to walk around town that day. I didn’t hike, knowing my limits. When I got home later, I had blisters and raw skin—but I was mobile. I adapted. And that’s what amputee life often requires: creativity, patience, resilience, and the willingness to meet challenges head-on. The Unpredictability of Phantom Pain Just days later, I was reminded again how unpredictable this journey can be. Despite having minimal phantom pain since my nerve revision surgery, I was suddenly hit with intense, stabbing sensations in a foot that no longer exists. The pain came in waves—sharp, jolting, and relentless. It lasted for hours and woke me from sleep. There was no obvious trigger. No overexertion. No trauma. Through experience, I’ve learned that phantom pain doesn’t need permission. It arrives when it wants—and leaves when it’s ready. What got me through wasn’t panic. It was instinct. I ran through my mental checklist: Socket fit? Fine.Injury? No.Stress...
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    28 mins
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