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,

 

 

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

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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! ♥

 

 

 

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!

Stop Waiting, Start Leading

Stop Waiting, Start Leading

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Using the Energy of the Fire Horse-Part 3

 

 

What if the thing holding you back isn’t your circumstances… but your waiting?

That’s the question I’m asking myself—and you—in this episode of Be a Warrior. As I move into my seventh year as an above-knee amputee and step into 2026, I feel a shift happening. A deep, unmistakable pull to stop waiting for life to feel easier, cleaner, or more predictable—and instead start leading, exactly where I am.

This episode is part three of my five-part series inspired by the Year of the Fire Horse, and if you’ve missed the first two, I highly recommend going back and listening. This series is building intentionally, because growth doesn’t happen in isolation—it happens in layers. In the first episode, I talked about movement, momentum, and fearless expansion. Not fearless in the absence of fear, but fearless in the willingness to move through it. As amputees—and honestly, as humans—we live with a lot of fear. Fear of pain. Fear of falling. Fear of how our bodies will feel tomorrow. Fear of what people see when they look at us. Expansion doesn’t mean fear disappears. It means we don’t let it decide our future.

Last week, we explored the bold, passionate energy of the Fire Horse and how powerful energy can work for us—or against us. Energy doesn’t discriminate. If you’re prepared, it can propel you forward faster than you imagined. If you’re unprepared, it can feel overwhelming and destabilizing. This year is not subtle. It’s loud. It’s demanding. And it’s asking us to participate instead of sit on the sidelines.

Which brings me to this week’s focus: leading instead of waiting.

If you’re not an amputee, let me pull back the curtain for a moment. Amputee life—especially in the early years—is dominated by waiting. Waiting for wounds to heal. Waiting for insurance approvals. Waiting for appointments. Waiting for test sockets. Waiting for remakes. Waiting for your limb to shrink, change, adjust, stabilize. Waiting for your body to feel like it belongs to you again. There can be more time spent waiting than actually living, and that kind of waiting is exhausting.

I’ve watched so many people—myself included—get stuck in that space. Not because we’re weak, but because the system trains us to wait. And at some point, that waiting becomes a habit. We tell ourselves, Once this socket fits better… once I heal… once this next thing happens… then I’ll start living.

This year is calling us out on that.

The Year of the Fire Horse is designed for people who are ready to lead instead of wait. And leadership doesn’t mean having all the answers. It means choosing not to put your life on hold. You can lead from a wheelchair. You can lead while healing. You can lead while waiting on insurance or surgery or the next prosthetic adjustment. Leading means asking yourself: What can I do today, with what I have, where I am?

Because sitting and waiting doesn’t just pause your life—it quietly erodes your confidence, your joy, and your sense of purpose. I know that when I wait too long, I stop meeting people. I stop moving my body. I stop feeling good about myself. I start complaining. And that’s not the life I want—and I don’t believe it’s the life you want either.

The Fire Horse only comes around once every 60 years. When the energy of fire and horse combine, it’s powerful, fast, and transformative. But everything I’ve read says the positive outcomes come from preparation. From intention. From deciding ahead of time that when the energy hits, you’re ready to ride instead of getting knocked over.

For me, that preparation has meant getting quiet, introspective, and honest about what I want my next 12 months to look like. How I want to lead myself. How I want to show up for my family. How I want to live—not someday, but now.

And that’s why I’m inviting you into action.

 

 

On February 17th, the Fire Horse energy officially begins, and I’m hosting a Year of the Fire Horse Virtual Challenge for women. It’s a 5K, 10K, half marathon, or marathon—done virtually, at your pace, in your way. This isn’t about speed or perfection. It’s about momentum. Accountability. Community. About proving to yourself that you can start before everything feels perfect.

To Join the Virtual Challenge click HERE

Get 30% of when you use the discount code: JOLLY

 

Waiting doesn’t have to be your full-time job.

This episode is a call to stop postponing your life. To stop telling yourself you’ll start when conditions improve. To recognize that leadership begins the moment you decide to move—even if that movement is small, messy, and imperfect.

You don’t need permission to live fully. You don’t need your circumstances to cooperate. You just need to decide that waiting no longer gets to run the show.

This is your year to lead.

Not tomorrow. Not when it’s easier.

Today.

I’ll be right here, walking it with you.

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much Love,

 

 

 

 

 

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,

 

 

 

A Year of Movement, Momentum and Fearless Expansion

A Year of Movement, Momentum and Fearless Expansion

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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 past three houses. I was disappointed at first, but then I realized something important: I had found my baseline. You cannot grow if you don’t know where you’re starting from. Momentum begins with honesty.

Momentum is also how you build trust with your prosthesis—trust up a curb, down a hill, over uneven terrain, and through the hundred tiny adjustments your body makes to learn this new dance. Prosthesis + confidence is earned, not given. And it starts one step at a time.

Then comes the third theme: fearless expansion.

 

 

Let me be very clear—fearless does not mean the absence of fear. It means facing fear. Every amputee I’ve ever met battles fear. Fear of falling. Fear of looking foolish. Fear of pain. Fear of malfunction. Fear of being judged. Fear of being stared at. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of being trapped in this new reality forever.

Fearless expansion is courage in motion. It’s putting on your leg even when you don’t feel like it. It’s going out in public before your gait feels steady. It’s learning how to trust a piece of machinery that now represents a part of your body. It’s standing back up every time you fall—literally or metaphorically.

And here’s the truth: what you do now determines what your future looks like. I’m not worried about being 80 yet—but I know how I move my body today will directly affect that version of me.

 

 

I’m wired for action. Consuming content without integration doesn’t create change. So here’s your call to action:

If you’re not moving, start.

Not a marathon. Not a hike. Not a PR. Just movement.

Ask yourself:

What do I want my future to look like?

Where do I want expansion?

What scares me—and am I willing to face it?

Maybe your goal is more steps.

Maybe it’s longer prosthetic wear time.

Maybe it’s a grocery run.

Maybe it’s cooking a meal standing up.

Maybe it’s just putting the leg on today.

Compete only with yesterday’s version of you. If you get stronger, braver, and more resilient by even 1%—you’re winning.

And if you need accountability, reach out. DM me. Join me. I’m launching a virtual challenge soon—Year of the Horse themed, of course—and I want you on my team. Because momentum is easier when you’re not doing it alone.

So get moving. Build momentum. Expand fearlessly. Face the fire horse energy and ride it into the life you deserve.

Get moving, Warriors!

 

And as always—

be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much Love,

 

 

Walk The Line

Walk The Line

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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 grieve and cry and scream. BUTTTTTT,  don’t let them live there. Remind them of what they have and that there is more to life.

Be honest with them too. If you care about them and love them let them know when they are plunging into a dark place before it’s too late. Tell them you need to be heard, loved, and seen.

There are two sides to this new journey and no one should go it alone, just make sure you are finding a balance, for your sake and your loved ones.

You are truly amazing.

You’ve come this far, it’s time to fight the good fight and find your purpose and start living your best life!

Rise up, Dear Warriors, Rise UP!!!!!

You are more than your body, you are a soul, a light for a dark world, you are love!

Have a beautiful week and as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

 

 

 

 

Unleash the Warrior Within You

Unleash the Warrior Within You

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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:

 

  1. My prosthetic charging cord
  2. The 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? Manageable.
  • Weather? Stable.
  • Hydration? Questionable.

 

I drank water—lots of it. And the pain faded.

Whether coincidence or correlation, I logged it as wisdom for the future.

 

Always adapting!

 

The Fire Horse Mentality

 

The horse symbolizes freedom, movement, instinct, truth, nervous system wisdom, and connection over control—all things that resonate deeply with amputee life.

Freedom didn’t come to me through saving my leg. It came when I let it go.

Movement returned not through endless surgeries, but through acceptance, adaptation, and the right prosthetic support.

Instinct tells me when to rest, when to push, and when to trust that pain will pass.

Truth asks me to acknowledge that this life is hard—but still meaningful.

Horses understand nervous system regulation instinctively. As amputees, learning to regulate our own nervous systems is critical—not just for physical comfort, but emotional health.

And perhaps most importantly: connection over control.

Trying to control everything—our bodies, our recovery, our outcomes—often creates more suffering. Connection, whether to our prosthetist, our body, our community, or our faith, is what carries us forward.

 

 

Stop Comparing. Start Living.

 

One of the most destructive habits amputees fall into is comparison.

Just because someone else is doing something you aren’t doesn’t mean you’re failing. Different bodies. Different trauma. Different prosthetics. Different lives.

You are not behind.

You are not weak.

You are not less than.

Compare yourself only to who you were yesterday.

 

 

A Call to Rise

 

Season Six is about listening, connecting, trusting, and becoming.

It’s about letting go of the reins just enough to allow life—and faith—to lead.

You are a warrior.

Not because of what you’ve lost—but because of how you keep showing up.

This year is a fresh page. A new chapter.

Write it with courage. Live it with intention.

And remember—you don’t have to do it alone.

Welcome to Season Six.

Let’s ride forward together.

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!

Much love,

Rise up, Warriors!!!

 

The Year of the Horse and Your Journey

The Year of the Horse and Your Journey

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Be A Warrior: Closing Season Five, Trusting What Comes Next

 

As I sit down to record this episode, it honestly feels surreal. This is the final episode of 2025 and the close of Season Five of Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior. Five years. 210 episodes in all! When I say that out loud, it stops me in my tracks a little. What started as a quiet nudge on my heart has grown into something that now feels woven into my life, my healing, and my purpose.

 

My 2025 year in review

 

If you’ve been with me on this journey for a while, thank you. Truly. You are part of this family. And if you’re new here, welcome. I hope you’ll stick around—because Season Six starts next week, and I can hardly believe I get to say that.

When I launched this podcast, I didn’t have a master plan. I wasn’t chasing perfection, production polish, or algorithms. I was chasing meaning. My prayer from the very beginning was simple: If this reaches one person—if it brings hope, peace, or strength to someone in the middle of chaos—then it’s worth it.

This podcast exists because of my faith, my lived experience, and the road that brought me here—one that forever changed on December 19th, 2018. That was the day I chose an elective above-knee amputation after five years of failed surgeries following a taekwondo accident. Five years of fighting my own body. Five years of pain, loss, and unanswered questions.

 

My TaeKwonDo time, pre-amputation

 

If you’ve never heard my full amputation story, I shared it back in Season One. And honestly, as I step into Season Six, I may revisit it again—because time gives perspective, and perspective gives depth.

My first full year as an amputee was 2019, and I set goals like my life depended on it. And in many ways, it did. I hit every single one. I skied again. I surfed. I water skied. I hiked. I rode horses. I proved to myself, my doctors, my family—and maybe the world—that I wasn’t disabled. I was differently abled.

But once I checked every box, something unexpected happened. I felt empty.

That emptiness wasn’t failure—it was calling. I realized I wasn’t meant to keep all of that hard-earned wisdom to myself. I wasn’t meant to just do life again. I was meant to share it. That’s where this podcast was born.

I’ll be honest—I don’t love listening to myself talk. I don’t script these episodes. I don’t cut out the pauses or clean up the edges. There’s an intro, there’s an outro, and everything in between is real. I show up as a mom, a wife, an amputee, a human still figuring it out. This podcast is raw on purpose—because life is raw.

As this year closes, we’re also shifting seasons symbolically. If you follow the Chinese calendar, we’re leaving the Year of the Snake and entering the Year of the Horse. And if you know me at all, you know how much that resonates. Horses have become central to my healing and my heart.

 

 

As a little girl growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, I dreamed of horses, but access and finances made it unrealistic. Life had other plans. It wasn’t until after I lost my leg that horses came back into my life in a powerful way. I reached out to a friend who worked with rescue horses, and something clicked—deeply and instantly.

That connection led me to become certified in horse training, advanced training, and most recently equine therapy. Horses taught me regulation, presence, trust, and stillness in ways nothing else ever had—especially after trauma. Now, I work with people who are searching for grounding, healing, and reconnection to their bodies, especially after limb loss.

The Year of the Horse represents freedom, movement, soul searching, and wellness. And honestly, I can’t think of a better theme for what’s ahead. I don’t know exactly what this year will bring—but I know I’m ready to meet it.

If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. I think the phrase itself sets us up to fail. Words carry power. When we label something as temporary or flimsy, our minds treat it that way. By February, resolutions fade, gyms empty out, and people convince themselves they’ll “start again later.”

So instead, I believe in fresh starts. Turning a page. New perspective.

And one of my favorite end-of-year rituals is choosing a word—or a short phrase—to guide the year ahead. Not a checklist. A compass.

Last year, my words were ‘Be Present’. And those words carried me through one of the most challenging years of my life. In May, I traveled to Boston to see if I qualified for an experimental procedure and revision surgery. In June, I had surgery. July through September were filled with healing, setbacks, crutches, fittings, and learning my body all over again.

Through it all, I stayed present. I documented the journey. I let myself feel it. And when the holidays arrived—busy, beautiful, chaotic—I stayed present there too. I soaked up baking, gift-making, family moments, and even the exhaustion. I welcomed January’s slower rhythm with gratitude instead of guilt.

This year, my word found me quietly—in church, listening to our pastor speak.

My word for the coming year is ‘Trust”.

That word is heavy in the best way.

Trusting the process. Trusting the people around me. Trusting my body as it continues to change. Trusting God’s timing—even when it doesn’t match my own.

I like control. I like schedules. I like certainty. And trust requires letting go. It’s a trust fall—stepping back and believing you’ll be caught.

My prosthetic journey is still unfolding. My leg continues to change. A new socket is likely coming soon. Nothing feels finished or neat right now—and that’s okay. This year, I’m choosing to stop forcing outcomes and start allowing space.

If something is meant to be, it will unfold. And if it isn’t, that doesn’t mean it was a failure. Sometimes closed doors are protection. Sometimes the blessing only makes sense in hindsight.

 

 

So here’s my invitation to you.

As we sit in this quiet space between years, I want you to choose a word or phrase of your own. Something that speaks to where you are—not where you think you should be.

Be honest. Reflect. Meditate on it. Ask yourself where you struggled this year and where you want to grow—not from shame, but from curiosity.

Write your word down. Put it somewhere visible. Make it your screensaver. Stick it on your mirror. Tell someone you trust. Accountability matters. Growth requires reflection—and sometimes reminders.

And remember this: you are not meant to be at the same place as everyone else. We rise and fall at different times so we can lift each other when it’s needed. Start with yourself. Speak kindly to yourself. Life is too short for your own inner voice to be your harshest critic.

You are already enough. Growth is not about fixing yourself—it’s about expanding into who you already are.

As I close this chapter, I want to thank you for being here. For listening. For trusting me with your time and your heart. If this podcast gave you even one moment of hope or clarity this year, then it has done its job.

Season Six is coming. New challenges are coming. A virtual race is on the horizon. And the Year of the Horse is inviting us forward—with strength, freedom, and trust.

Until next year—keep showing up, keep listening to your heart, and trust the process.

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

Much love,

 

 

 

 

 

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