Bad B*tch With Feelings

Women are so multifaceted. We can do anything we set our minds to. Apparently, one of those things is to simultaneously love ourselves and have a strong sense of confidence, while still feeling the pangs of insecurity and hurt on the inside. Multitasking, perhaps?

Despite the years that have allowed me to accept my body and my disability, there are moments when I still feel inadequate. Not pretty enough, not normal enough, not as strong as other amputees. Not physically capable of all the things I once did unassisted. Yes, you can be a bad b*tch and still feel insecure from time to time.

Someone once told me I had nice legs, then I had to have one cut off. At least it was the one with the scar across the knee from that hide-and-seek incident circa 1992. Although I guess it was more of a scar upgrade since my new one no longer fits under a band-aid. My scars aren't always visible though. When I wear my prosthetic, you don't see the one where the doctor stitched me up after the amputation, and the other ones live much deeper. Occasionally, something pulls at the threads, and I have to tighten it back up and apply some emotional vaseline.

If you are feeling raw and expecting someone's kind words to pick you up off the ground, don't. Please don't call them until you're willing to do the bulk of the work. Like that one full leg you still have, working overtime. Even if you have the fiercest group of protectors and loved ones, they won't always be enough to hype you up and get you back on your foot. Plus, they might be on a 12-hour flight to Greece with no wifi or in the middle of a very intense hot yoga session when you start to spiral. You have to find your own way back to that place where you know exactly who you are and what you bring to the table.

So how do you do that? How do you get back to your confident, sparkly self when your inner critic is louder than your group chat?

You start small. You speak to yourself like you would your best friend. You stop comparing your journey to someone else's highlight reel. Your version of strength might look like getting out of bed, adjusting your prosthetic, and not flipping off the person who stares too long at the grocery store. (Character development, baby.)

You reclaim your body one kind word at a time. You look in the mirror and say something nice—even if it's just "Hey, look at you existing and stuff." You sit with the hard feelings when they show up, but you don't offer them a permanent room. Let them visit, maybe cry a little, eat some ice cream, and then kindly see them out.

Because you can be a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time. You can mourn the version of yourself that once existed while still celebrating the incredible, resilient version that's here now. You can be confident, compassionate, hilarious, brilliant, and occasionally a hot mess with a Target cart full of snacks and emotional baggage.

So if today you're not feeling like the bad b*tch you are, that's okay. You're still her.

You don’t have to have it all figured out to keep going. Some days you’ll lead with confidence, and other days you’ll lead with caffeine and sarcasm—and both are valid. Healing isn’t linear, and self-worth doesn’t vanish just because you hit a low spot.

So give yourself grace. Laugh when you can. Cry when you need to. And remember: even when it feels like you’re unraveling, you’re still made of pretty incredible threads.