Tag: overcoming fears

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”?
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,

 

 

Bouncing Back with Mike Coots

Bouncing Back with Mike Coots

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Shark Attack Survivor to Shark Advocate: A True Bounce Back Story

Pictures in the Deep

 

Facing the creature who turned his life upside down… head on and with love and respect. Truly inspiring!

 

This is one story of bouncing back that has always stood out to me. Since I first met Mike, on Kauai, to our first interview in 2021, and watching his path widen, deepen, and become more powerful and enlightening, I have been in awe of his love for the one thing that did him harm. And quite frankly, that speaks volumes to me… not just about Mike, but about sharks! If someone is a victim of a shark attack and literally turns around to advocate for them and their rightful place as the apex predator of the ocean, AND portrays them as beautiful, and graceful creatures to be saved and admired, then I need to listen up and educate myself past the fears that have been instilled in me by Hollywood since I was a child.

This is Mike’s mission through his photographs and advocacy stance in DC.

Forgiveness was given, and a new path is being forged between the victim and the perpetrator.

This is the true meaning of healing on the inside.

When Mike was just 18 years old, with dreams of becoming a professional surfer, this nightmare couldn’t have been farther from his mind. Yet, with support from his family and community he took a huge setback and created a new life for himself.  He studied, met people, watched for doors to open, and went with the flow of his new path, which all led him to forgiveness, empathy, love, and partnership with the one thing that almost took his life.

Mike and the Tiger Shark

 

His setback became the set up for the life he lives now, and the life he adores.

When he was asked if he would change the day of his attack, to keep his legs and become that professional surfer, do you know what he said?

 

 

Back at it!

 

Listen in to hear his answer.

Listen in to hear what happened that fateful day, and to hear what new adventures he is on.

Thank you, Mike, for your time and telling your story, and for being the voice of a misunderstood creature in our oceans.

Mahalo!

 

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

Angie

 

 

 

 

Baby Steps

Baby Steps

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What’s holding you back from achieving your goals?

What fears are keeping you from living your best life?

Today I talk about creating baby steps to reaching the goals you have and how I faced a fear of my own yesterday. Baby steps to reaching your goals are still steps toward your goals. They need to be celebrated and you should feel great when you do accomplish them. So much of my past few years you’ve seen me do big things: skiing, surfing, hiking large mountains, but sometimes it’s the small steps that mean the most. Yesterday was one of those days. Join me as I share how stressful yesterday was but how I chose to see the positive in the baby steps. #babysteps #keepmovingforward #runningblade #ottobock #wiggleyourtoes #adaptiveathlete #ampstrong #amputeelife #aka #facingfears #challenges #calltoaction

 

Gym time

 

My 1st race
Starting line of the Phoenix Rock n Roll Marathon

 

 

2 parts to this week’s CTA:

  1. Figure out what is holding you back from achieving something you want, set small, baby step goals to get yourself there.  Like I did yesterday on the treadmill, it was only for 10 minutes and I wasn’t running, but I got myself out in public to attempt something I hadn’t done in over a year.
  2. Have grace with those around you. We never know what battles people are facing, but assume they are if they aren’t being nice, and remind yourself that it has nothing to do with you, and move on.

 

 

 

As always:

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

Angie

The Nerve of Some People

The Nerve of Some People

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Plastic Surgeons and TMR Surgery:
Tackling Phantom Limb Pain

 

Everyone deals with pain at some point in their life, but when you have an amputation you know that there is a possibility of living with a pain you can’t even touch! When the missing limb is burning, itching, throbbing, or sending sharp pains with every movement it can be unnerving -pun intended- and hard to get past.

I, like so many other amputees, have dealt with phantom limb pain since day one. Most of the time I can handle it, sometimes in the quiet of night it can be hard to fall asleep, but I have been able to deal with it.  The point when I could no longer take the pain was when I couldn’t even walk into my kitchen without the pain being so sharp and unpredictable that I stopped moving!  It takes A LOT to stop me! I have a high tolerance for pain, and this was just too much for me. I have to say, this freaked me out and made me worry that maybe this was going to be like this for the rest of my life…. and then I stepped back and gave myself a pep talk. I cannot allow myself to participate in defeatist talk. Negativity cannot reside in me, I won’t allow it. So, what did I do? I had an appointment with my prosthetist and my surgeon who performed my amputation.

I was scheduled for an MRI to see if there was a neuroma, sure enough, there was one, exactly where I felt the pain. Symptomatic, great!

Next step? My orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Judd Cummings, told me that I needed to see a plastic surgeon, and the one he suggested, who knows how to perform a surgery called TMR (Targeted Muscle Reinnervation), Dr. Roni Prucz.  He put his confidence, and my future, into this doctor’s hands… and I believed in him, so I went.

Dr. Roni Prucz
Phoenix Plastic Surgery

 

Now, I didn’t have ANY desire for yet another surgery, but I promised I’d go talk to him.  What harm could that do?

….And before I knew it, I was scheduled for surgery! Dang it!

Dr. Prucz seemed confident that he could successfully help me with the pain on the back of my residual limb, where the neuroma was, but the sharp pain that I felt ripping down my non-existent shin, he couldn’t promise that. I couldn’t pinpoint where the pain was originating from and so he would just have to do exploratory surgery in that area, and hope for the best.

Without the neuroma, my gait has become so much better, there was no more pain there. However, the sharp pain, in the other area of my limb, returned about 6 weeks after surgery, not as often and not as intense, but it reared its ugly head and my fears of life-long pain returned.

No matter what, I will rise!

 

This is where I needed to advocate for myself and not just say, “Oh well, we tried.” That wasn’t good enough for me. I needed answers and I needed this to be fixed, or at least feel better. I saw my prosthetist, then Dr. Prucz, and then over to Dr. Cummings, just trying to figure this out, gain perspective, and to see if anyone had any ideas. I would NOT rest until I had direction.

Yesterday I took my next step in helping myself, I tried a sympathetic nerve block in my L3 and….. so far, so good!!!

I needed something that didn’t require another surgery and this was a good next step, and quick. If it works then I may be looking at having that nerve bundle ablated. I’ve been moving around for 24 hours now and not feeling that pain. This is a good sign, but I hesitate to get too excited, too soon. I will do my thing, I will beat on my leg through my high level of activities, like hiking, and really push the limits of my leg and socket. For me that’s the best way to really test out what I’ve had done.

I really test my leg and socket whenever something new has been done to either of them

 

I hope this podcast gives you some insight to TMR surgery, if you’re a candidate, and how to go about finding the right person to perform this on you. As always, I’m here for you! Send me an email or leave a comment. I’d love to chat and answer any questions you might have about what I went through. Talking to people who’ve been through something will help give you perspective and  maybe even curb fears you might have.

 

 

This week I want you to let go of the past, start looking to future. We cannot move forward if all we are doing is wishing we had back what we use to have. If you’ve lost a limb, it’s gone, there’s nothing you can do about it. The choice is up to you how you’ll view this difference. The choice is yours on how you will pursue your future. You can have a pity party, or you can decide to set new goals, change direction from the course you use to be on BEFORE losing your limb, and rise up!

The time is now! Dream big! Set new goals.  Adapt and move on with your life. I know there will be setbacks, I know there will be moments of pain, but they do not define you. Your attitude and what you do with your circumstance DOES!  What are you going to do? I want to see you thrive! I want to see you challenge yourself! I want you to rise up and conquer, because YOU are a warrior!  Now go out and crush it!

 

Until next time:

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

Angie

 

Embracing Vulnerability

Embracing Vulnerability

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Wow! What an experience I had! To think that I felt totally at peace and right with my amputation, yet coming to terms with it, through a horse, and finding that I had some deeper fears that I wasn’t allowing myself to show-like it was a sign of weakness instead of courage! It was such a profound moment for me, one that I won’t be forgetting any time soon.

I am in awe of the grace and yet strength and connectiveness of horses to the people around them. It’s like they have a 6th sense to detect what we would otherwise ignore or try to hide.  They live in the moment and expect the people they come in contact with to do the same. I will be forever changed because of this experience and I am grateful that Cherokee taught me a hard, but valuable lesson, about myself.

Listen in the hear my story of the time a horse taught me to let go.

Me with Cherokee- The horse that forced me to open up and be honest with myself

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