03/26/2026
One year ago, I had my initial double mastectomy.
Today, I’m sitting here healing from my fifth surgery.
Cancer doesn’t just change your body… it changes you.
Your perspective. Your pace. Your priorities.
You think when treatment ends, everything goes back to normal…
but the truth is, you learn how to live in a new normal.
I used to be someone who could go 24 hours a day.
Now I’m learning how to slow down…
how to listen to my body…
how to be kind and compassionate to myself.
Because if I don’t put myself first,
I can’t be there for anyone else.
That’s something this journey has taught me deeply.
I’ve learned to appreciate everything
the smallest moments,
waking up in the morning,
a quiet breath,
the people who stood beside me through it all.
So many people ask about the aftermath…
the part no one really talks about. Which I feel is my job to educate. I’ve been asked to advocate for the quiet ones.
The medication you stay on for 5–10 years…
it’s life-changing in ways people don’t see.
The exhaustion isn’t normal tired.
It’s the kind where your body just won’t move.
Your joints ache.
Your mind feels foggy.
And yet people say, “you look so good.”
But this journey isn’t about how it looks on the outside…
it’s about what’s happening on the inside.
My journey has been CT scans, ultrasounds, bone scans, bloodwork…
false alarms, fear, and a body that sometimes feels like it’s fighting itself.
But through all of it
I’ve learned to slow down.
To be present.
To be grateful in a way I never understood before.
Grateful for my body, even when it feels tired.
Grateful for the strength I didn’t know I had.
Grateful for the people who showed up, stayed, and held me through it all.
Grateful for every lesson, even the hard ones.
Grateful for the happy tears… and for finally being able to sit in my emotions and truly feel again.
Because every single day is a gift.
And I’m still here. 🤍
🎗️
