Uncomfortably Comfortable

What do I mean by that? For those who are runners or worked hard towards a specific goal, have you ever had that high after months of training where you dread and ask yourself why you got in this voluntarily, counting the days until it's done? Then, you reach your goal, you embrace and taste the high of accomplishment only for it to go away much sooner than you expected or even trained for. Soon after, you find yourself yearning for the days of muscle sores and calendar jammed packed with training.

Well, recovering and living with a cancer diagnosis has been like that for me. By that, I don’t mean that I miss the gruesome chemo sessions and the taste and smell of chemicals pouring out of my body, but after almost two years of having a medical team tell me what to do, eat, take, when where and how – I must admit I miss the sense of structure the safety net of having a clear path forward.

I know so many amazing survivors, thrivers and previvors that were/are so graceful during their treatment – embracing their bald head, their no eyebrows, their no real boobs, cheering for no body hair (ok, that one I was happy about lol) but let me tell you, I was not one of them. I hated the way I looked, the way I felt, the way I saw my body getting weaker even when I never gave up on my runs through my chemo and radiation months. I would ask my friends and family consistently, “am I going to die?” only to hear their optimism and confirmation that they knew something I didn’t. That I would get through this.

Once I had one more chemo in front of me, I started to believe what my friends and family were saying, I would live to tell this story – which is a huge win for me BUT let’s not forget I also spent six months not knowing if I would be around to see the next summer which I now realize has traumatized me and equally humanized everything and everyone I engage with.

If you have been following me, you know I got diagnosed in September 2020. Since then, I have gone through fertility treatments, scans, MRIs, six months of chemo, a lumpectomy, 16 rounds of radiation, a year+ of immunotherapy and will be in hormonal meds for the next 5 – 10 years.

Now I am “out” of it, as some may say but the diagnosis changes you in all different ways. You are no longer the old you, you are an evolved version of you. With a few extra scars and bruises, a tougher skin, and a more simplistic way to look at the world.

So, what is one to do with all you now know? Put it in the back of your mind? My favorite one told by people “don’t let it define you?” well, let me burst that bubble, it is not that easy. Now that’s not to say you can’t do amazing things with that, on the contrary, you have reached a level of consciousness that can help not only you and your path forward but also those who are in or have started a similar path.

I now understand that death will come to all of us, some faster than others unfortunately. We only have today and there is a reason why the path we walk on was carefully designed for us and for the impact that we will have while we grace this earth.

That means, that things are truly that simple. Enjoying every single second of life IS the most important gift the world can give us. Embracing every single friendship and relationship and being intolerant to anything that doesn’t bring joy, light, and positive energy.

While I am lucky to be in remission, what lies ahead of me is unknown, and if my dear MB thrivers can laugh, kick ass, and beat the odds every day, the least I can do is lead with the same spirit.

Joining the BC community has been a true blessing, I have met wonderful women, survivors, thrivers and previvors that will be lifetime friends. I am so lucky for those connections that would have never happened had I never had that unexpected call on September 11, 2020. I now have sisters from all over the country who get me in a different way. Who inspire me and pick me up on days where I needed the extra comfort.

This is to them and to the art of being uncomfortably comfortable with the unknown. Thank you to a special Chicago baddie who inspired me to write this blog after the loss of my best friend 17-year-old pup and best friend. I am grateful for today.