I've been asked to write about "trauma" and the topic has been on my mind since.  There are so many different angles to this topic and I am not even sure that its something I can completely summarize in one blog post.  I say that because, for me, traumatic moments seem to have happened regularly since I was originally diagnosed in 2013. The most prominent have been, obviously, my diagnosis...but even more difficult than that : Death.  I'm not entirely sure I want this entire post to be about that but I do want to talk about it.  


The majority of us have experienced death or trauma in some form. Death doesn't always mean, SOMEONE or SOMETHING dies, but the end result will most likely always be grief. To me, trauma is a situation or event that has happened in our lives that has the ability to completely change the way we view life, or the way our brain processes, what most might comprehend as "normal circumstances".  In all honesty, I feel like trauma and death can go hand in hand. I have experienced both more times than I would like to admit or accept. 


I am not sure how many 40 year olds can say that they have consistently lost 3-4 friends a year. The amount of hands I have held in the last 24 hours of life is a number I'd like to forget.  With each beautiful heart, a little piece of me dies.  Every.  Single. Time. This part of my life is one I consider extremely traumatic.  Losing a loved one, is one of the most heart-wrenching, traumatic events I think we, as humans, experience. It truly does feel like a piece of your heart goes along with them.  It's so easy to question every thing you did or didn't do, what you did or didn't say, and if you had just done that ONE THING differently. We grieve, we question, we accept, and we learn to live a life without that person’s physical presence.  


That’s death in its most raw and obvious form—death of someone or something—but I’m not just talking about that kind of death.  It can be in the form of a divorce, loss of a job, your home, your health, a friendship... I feel whatever brings a feeling of pain and feels like it breaks you to your core, can be classified as a traumatic experience or a death of some form. How we cope as individuals is a personal choice and my position as I blog is not to tell you how I think you should move through it. It is simply to share my experience, my thoughts, and my perspective with you.  


In my experience with trauma, I feel as though a little piece of me has died with each traumatic experience I have had. I have grieved the loss of myself through those experiences. I've learned that this is such an important part of trauma. Why, though? My answer is this: Trying to hold on to the person you were prior to your trauma is like holding a broken glass and hoping its gonna look exactly the same when you put it back together. I have learned to accept, for me, that it is not possible to do that, so I grieve and I allow myself to grieve. I give myself that space, time, and patience to move through it and to come to a place of acceptance. With each trauma, with each death, a little piece of me dies.  Does it mean I am broken? Absolutely not. I can't change what has happened, and I have learned that coming to a place of acceptance is where the healing truly begins. Accepting that the glass is broken, but you are not. You can still be put back together, and you can still thrive and find the beauty in life and within—beyond that trauma.  


Acceptance has been a word that I have returned to often this year.  I accept that I have stage IV cancer. I accept the moments I have sat in front of a doctor to be told treatment isn't working anymore. I accept that I lost my breasts. I accept that my life looks much different than the lives of most people my age. I accept that I have and I will continue to lose friends because of what I choose to do as my life purpose. I accept that we live in a really messed up world right now and there isn't one ounce of normalcy about it. I accept that all of these moments have happened.I cannot change them, and I accept that. Most importantly, I accept that I will likely continue to lose little pieces of me with each piece of trauma that falls upon me.  I acknowledge and internally verbalize that it doesn't mean I am broken. It just means that I may look a little different each time my glass is put pack together.  I have learned to be at peace with that.  It is how I choose to handle my trauma.  


Life is full of peaks and valleys. From experience, I know how hard it is to climb out of the valley, how traumatic that valley might feel in the moment. I know how hard it can seem to envision the view from that peak you so badly want to climb. Getting there means work and it might mean you come out with bruises and scars. It might mean that you're leaving a little piece of you in that valley and THAT'S OKAY!!!! You are still you. Your heart is still your heart. Maybe you choose to love a little harder. Maybe you choose to take that extra 10 minutes instead of rushing time away.  Maybe you choose to forgive a little easier.  Maybe the impact of your trauma is meant to transition you in a way that forces you to love a little harder. Maybe it forces you to re-evaluate your priorities and what brings you happiness.  


As I have personally navigated trauma, loss, death, and everything in between, I have discovered new pieces of me that I personally choose to give attention to and work on.  There is absolutely NO time limit on healing from a death or a traumatic experience. You owe yourself kindness and patience as you move through it. As we learn to accept what has happened and what our "new glass" looks like, I truly feel it is when we begin to heal ourselves.  I truly believe it is when we begin to discover who we truly are. Give yourself permission to forgive you! Give yourself permission to heal you! Give yourself permission to accept you might be a new you! 


There is so much beauty behind it all, and what an incredible gift it is to give yourself.   Whatever it is that is making you feel broken in this moment, whatever trauma you might be experiencing, I hope you can take a moment to pick up the pieces, put yourself back together, and accept that this life is so far beyond our control—and that you are never fully broken.  Even if those little tiny shards are impossible to find, the beauty can simply be in the light that shines in them, the light that shines within you, and the light and love that was left inside of your heart through them.  

I love the way a song and lyrics can speak directly to you, define a moment for you, and can open your heart and world to realize things about you, you may haven’t otherwise known. As she says, “My savior of self defense taught me to “write” what I cant say”. This blog has always been a place for me to share so many of the emotions I have felt throughout my diagnosis. I quoted that line from a song because in the 7 years that this blog has existed, something was missing. Whether you go back 7 years from my original diagnosis or you start from my recent stage iv diagnosis, I’ve always promised honesty. I’ve maintained that honesty, but this new direction I have chosen to take… has really opened up a piece of my heart, a deeper appreciation, and a window in to my true soul - the fears, the hopes, the dreams, the difficult journey I’ve been faced with. Sometimes this blog has been a place for me to inadvertently tell those closest to me, what was going on inside of my head. As I write that, I want to cry. It’s sometimes hard for me to tell them directly because, quite frankly, it’s hard. Its hard to share what goes on inside of my head because it can sometimes be a scary, sad place. I live a fearless life… full of fear. “No amount of remembering the better things will make the bad ones go away”.


Talking about my feelings and showing my emotions has never been something I’ve been great at. Writing my emotions, has always been much easier for me. So here I am, writing them all out. This is “My Little Voice” and, as the song goes, “Sometimes a little voice can say the biggest things”.


I hope I speak for those out there who might be afraid to speak. I hope my little voice, speaks the loudest words, the biggest things for those who can’t. This wasn’t an easy write, and it wont be an easy read.


I don’t want you to look at me and feel bad for me. I don’t want you to look at me and think of me as this girl who has stage iv cancer. I want you to look at me as a girl who lives her life, a girl who has made the best of her time, no matter how long or how short she was here. I’m a simple girl. This obstacle I have been faced with has forced me to live a life that is full of little gifts that I have given to myself. It has forced me to offer little gifts to others as well. I’ve been given the gift of truly appreciating the life that stands in front of me. A gift, many take for granted. I have been given the gift to leave whatever I want here —which words or actions I want to leave in the hands of everyone I love. If thats not the ultimate gift of life, I don’t know what is.


What most don’t understand, is that you have that gift too… you just have to utilize it, appreciate it, and move through it.


I can fully understand, sadly, that there is a real possibility that when I say goodbye to someone, it might be the last time. It welts me up every time. What does that goodbye mean to the other person? Was it just as meaningful to them as it was for me? How will they remember that moment—or me for that matter. I am very aware of the place and time I have on this earth. The odd thing is, is that my stage iv diagnosis doesn’t make my place or time on this earth any different than yours. You aren’t granted any more time than I am just because you are deemed healthy. We are all terminal.


I share my journey, my fears, my dreams, my travels, my life, and all that falls in between with the hope that you will be inspired to live a life that is fulfilled in every way you desire. I hope that you will say the things you want to say to the people you love without hesitation—even if that means writing a letter, or a blog. I hope that those I love know just how much I love them—but thats part of the gift I have been given. I have that voice. I can share that with them. I can leave whatever stamp I want to leave. I have been given a voice, a gift, the privilege, to leave nothing unsaid, nothing undone, and everything exactly how I choose.


There are times, such as this moment right now, that I sometimes wish I still lived in my little bubble. The bubble that guaranteed I’d live until I was 95 like my grandma did. The bubble that promised I’d have all the time in the world to say and do whatever it was I wanted. The bubble that I was sure wouldn’t pop. That naive little bubble that creates a safe space and protects you from ever having to worry about bad things happening to you. Most people live in that bubble. The one that says, “that would never happen to me”. Unless you have dealt with trauma in life, you’re probably living there right now. The part of me that wishes I still lived in that bubble wonders who I would be today. What would my purpose be? I certainly wouldn’t be writing this blog if I still lived in that bubble and I certainly wouldn’t have a nonprofit that serves so many women. I wouldn’t have met all of the incredible people I have met along the way. I never would have experienced the most genuine, giving, and loving humans who have supported me along the way. I, ME, This girl right here gets to witness pure amazingness and the GOOD that is entangled in all of the people I have met along this journey. Ahhh, what I get the privilege to see and feel through all of this is a true gift. I miss the bubble, but I am confident I live a more fulfilling life full of all sorts of amazingness because it has been popped. I live a good, simple, purposeful life. I have flown from that bubble and you know what? I am ok with that. In fact, I am blessed beyond measure for that.


When I finally accepted my new journey in life, I finally started to live; I’m not living a life that I question anymore. Though I am always trying to be a better person, and I’m still learning lessons about myself, I don’t question WHO I am. I know who I am and simply put, I am me. I am not trying to be anything else but me. I am finally sharing my little voice so that I can say the biggest things to you. The honesty, the hard parts, the fears, the joys, the GIFTS! I choose to live a life of hope. Tangled in there is fear of what the future holds, but this is “My Little Voice”.


As I sit here and look out at the ocean, in tears, I wonder when I’ll see her again. I wonder “if”. Most importantly, I walk away with an insane amount of appreciation for the sound the ocean makes, the energy it gives me, and the magical sunrises and sunsets that she shows me. It’s a simple moment to appreciate but one so many forget to truly take in. The ocean makes me realize that this world, and our reasons for being here, are far much bigger than we will ever be able to comprehend.


My Little Voice has turned in to something bigger than me, my purpose, and these special moments and the time that I get to share these words with you mean the biggest things to me.


Welcome to your voice and your heart, Jen. It’s nice to finally meet you.


“Sometimes a little voice, can say the biggest things, Its just my little voice that I’ve been missing” -Sara Barielles

And if you haven’t listened this song yet, I highly recommend you do after reading this.

I promised you I would be as honest and raw as I can be. I am confident many will read this and start to question themselves so I want to preface this with telling you, I am not seeking your guilt or a random apology. I am also going to tell you that I don't fault you for anything I am about to say. I don't expect you to know any better, until you read this. What I do know, is that I am 100% confident I am speaking up for so many women right now, and for that alone, it makes this worth every word.

I've been called self centered, by a close family member, during a very vulnerable time in my journey. Through all of the self growth I have done, I have tried to figure out in what world of hers, she would consider me self centered. Per the definition, I am certainly not pre-occupied with myself. In fact, I have always put others first. I have never enjoyed being the center of attention or to have the focus of anything be solely on me. I finally came to the conclusion that she just simply doesn’t know me - nor has she truly taken the time to get to know me. I didn't ask for this cancer the first time, and I certainly didn't ask for it the 2nd. The last thing I ever wanted was for my husband of 2 years to be feeding me, to be draining tubes coming out of my breasts, or to shower me while I stood there in complete humiliation. If thats what one would consider "self-centered" or being “pre-occupied with myself", then I guess I fall right in to that category. For the record, I am very aware of how inaccurate that statement is and I don’t, for one second, believe that to be a characteristic I embody.
There are so many unseen angles of a cancer diagnosis, whether it be from a caregiver, a friend, or the patient. I can only speak from my angle as a patient and I don't expect a caregiver or friend, no matter how close or not, to understand fully what I am about to say.

Sharing thee pictures below is hard. It’s hard to look back at those eyes. The drug-filled, fentanyl, Vicodin, Tylenol, chemo-eyes that didn't have a clue what was going on around me. I can only imagine how hard it was for others to look at me like this. As for me, at the time, I don’t think I even realized what I looked like. I was just doing my best to breathe and stay alive. My friends would visit me, force me to laugh, send me cards, drop things off at my doorstep, check in on me...all of it. While overwhelming at times, it meant a lot to me, and not because I am "self-centered,” but because when I felt like my world was falling apart, I was reminded I was still loved. All of those sweet gestures, were exactly what I needed at the moment.
Then one day, I “appeared” healthy, and POOF, many were gone. So I ask the question: Did you forget about me?

I say "me" but I am referring to anyone who has had cancer or who is battling a stage iv diagnosis. Where did you go? There is such a dramatic drop off when someone seems well. It leaves us feeling isolated, not good enough—like we did something wrong. At the time we appeared sick, you were there ALL of the time, but when we appeared well again, you were gone. Was our friendship only important when we appeared ill? No one is expecting dinner to be dropped off at our doors, or the many other amazing blessings given during our extreme time of need to continue. In fact, it is an extremely humbling experience to have to ask for help when we are already feeling like such a burden to everyone, but where did that friendship go? We think about how special those people are to us, how they showed up during a time of need, a time of extreme vulnerability, sat next to us, how much it meant, and how much they must care to go out of their way to support and love us at our worst; we begin to love and care for them back and they become a special part of our journey to healing. Maybe we even make a new friend or form new, deeper relationships.

Then it happens. We appear healthy again, as if our lives are back to "normal" but "normal" is no longer a term we understand. You disappear. Just like that, we feel a sense of abandonment, like we lost a friend. Maybe we feel like we were such a burden during our time of illness, and you've given all you can give to the friendship in that moment. I guess thats understandable and I believe every moment in life serves a specific purpose. The choice or action to disconnect, isn't one I will ever understand being in my circumstances, and I know I speak for others when I say WE don't understand it. That being said, I give grace to our co-survivors and friends. In fact, I am genuinely happy you don't understand what I am feeling. I hope you never do. I am not mad at you for this either. I do, however, know this is a topic that comes up more frequently than anything else, and for that reason, I am sharing my thoughts and speaking up for those who hold them inside.

Regardless of the appearance you made during my time of need, I am thankful for you. Whether it be dropping off a meal, a gift basket, or sitting by my side... you mean something to me. I haven't forgotten you. I don't necessarily think you have "forgotten" about me either. I just want there to be an understanding of the dramatic change we may experience in being surrounded with so much love when we appear ill, to then feeling that sense of abandonment, and how that might affect us mentally—it’s not a matter of attention or being self-centered. It's who we become after a cancer diagnosis. We change. Relationships become special to us. Who we let in during this time, is a big deal to us. We feel the internal change and it sometimes makes us question if the change we go through is one that you don't want to be a part of, or one that might be too much of a burden for you. While we are working on discovering who we are, we are also processing who you want to be in our lives, or who you were for that matter. Will you still be there? Will you only come around when I look sick? Am I only worth messaging when the news is bad? Will you be there to celebrate my triumphs AND my tragedies? Will you love me as I heal? Can you love the new person I have become?

No matter what capacity you choose to be there for me, know that I appreciate you. Know that I wont forget that gesture regardless of the size. You mean something to me.

If you are a caregiver, co-survivor, friend, or even an acquaintance, I encourage you to reach out to someone you haven’t spoken to in awhile. Tell them you still love them. Tell them you are still there for them. Love them THROUGH it all not just in the moment. Don’t allow things to go unsaid or the possible guilt you may feel from not reaching out in awhile, hold you back from checking in or sending that card. It means something. It means more than you could even comprehend. It's not because we need or crave the attention. Attention is the exact opposite of what most of us want. For me, I just want to know that our friendship means as much to you, as it means to me. It's that simple.

Cancer is a lifelong battle, even more so for those of us with Metastatic Cancer. It's never going to go away. I will live with this for the rest of my life. I cherish my time with you. I cherish our memories.

Speaking on behalf of many Warriors, I just ask that you please not forget the journey we have been through. Give us grace. Continue to be there for us. You mean something and we wont ever forget the special place you had in our lives - please don't forget us.

​I’ve thought about writing this blog for quite some time now.  Since my re-diagnosis almost exactly 2 years ago, I’ve changed – I’ve grown.  I’ve spent a lot of time figuring out who I truly am, how impactful my words can be, how important it is to always let those I love, know how I am feeling.  I’ve learned to share my feelings from a place of love and have been very conscious about voicing that love alongside my feelings.  With every hit that cancer gives me, I learn something new about myself.  I believe it’s an intentional poke from God encouraging me to be authentic, encouraging me keep growing spiritually and emotionally, sharing parts of this journey that while hard, important for others to understand the challenges of a stage iv cancer diagnosis. 
 
So here it is.  
 
Every time a scan comes back with bad news, I face my mortality.  Every time I face that mortality again, it gets scarier and feels closer.  There I said it.  Maybe you don’t want to hear that.  Maybe that’s hard to read, however, someone needs to say it.  You know that feeling you get when you almost got hit by that semi, or you almost drowned but didn’t, that near death but didn’t happen experience?  Yah, that’s what it feels like, but worse, because it doesn’t go away.  You don’t just forget about it, be grateful the semi didn’t actually hit you, and move on with your day.  The semi just keeps hitting you.  Every single day, the semi hits and the battle in my head begins.  Jen, you have today.  Jen, be present.  Jen, be positive.  Jen, get out of bed and go do something to keep your mind off of the semi.  It’s a constant battle.  If I don’t remain positive, I feel guilty but if I don’t allow myself to feel, I feel guilty.  I am finding that balance and discovering who I feel comfortable sharing those dark moments with.  I am learning to be authentic in a way that is comfortable for me, not for anyone else.  I am learning that it’s just as important to forgive myself as it is for me to forgive others.  

​Forgiveness is a gift you give to you.  Read that again.  
 
Do you not realize that we are all in danger of that semi hitting?  Though hard, I remind myself of this pretty regularly.  Maybe my semi looks a looks a little different than yours, but at the end of day, one day, we are all going to be hit by a semi.  One day, we are all going to face our mortality.  Do you want to leave this world with things left unsaid?  Do you want someone else to leave this world without saying something you wish you could have said?  I don’t.  I am not sure anyone does.  
 
I vision this as another “gift” I have been given.  I can change anything I want to change, right now.  I can forgive whomever I want to forgive, right now.  I can say whatever I want to say, right now.  I can have deep conversations with people, share my feelings, tell them I love them, make and cherish every single moment I have with them.  I get to give myself that gift.  I get to give others that gift.  I have the privilege - THE PRIVILEGE - of living a life that is FULL!  A life that checks off boxes most don’t get the chance to check off because the semi hit without warning.  
 
“The trouble is, you think you have time” Buddah 
 
I have struggled with sharing these thoughts because I don’t want those close to me, or those who follow my journey to think my time is coming to an end.  I most certainly don’t want to worry or scare the people I love most.  I don’t want to put anyone’s mind in a place that holds any negativity towards my journey.  If you are reading this, I want you to fill that space you hold for me with only positivity and prayers.  
 
I share these thoughts because since I began this blog over 6 years ago, I have shared the raw and honest truth behind my diagnosis.  There will be more of these to come, some not so happy, and some filled with inspiration and hope.  The one thing I can promise you, is that it will be my honest truth, my honest challenges, my victories, and my authentic feelings.  My mission from day one has always been the hope that no one would ever feel as alone as I did when I was originally diagnosed in 2013.  I know my truth can be someone else’s hope.  I know my voice can, and will, help someone.  My journey, and what I choose to share, while uncomfortable at times, may be exactly what someone else needs to hear or share, because they are too afraid to say it.  It may be exactly what someone else needs, so they know they aren’t walking that path alone.  
 
This is what feeds my soul. This is what gives me purpose and defines who I am.  Cancer has never and will never define me.  
 
I cannot change what has happened in my life – neither can you.  It will have always happened to you no matter how badly you might want to forget that it did.  The defining moment will come in deciding if you want to allow it to break you down or build you up.  I hope you always choose to let it build you up, to discover the strength that it gave you, the purpose behind it all, and to acknowledge the ways it made you a better person.   That, in my opinion, is the greatest gift you can give to you.  

I think that phrase really says it all. What more do I really even need to write about?  

I’ll start off with asking if you are you ok with NOT being ok? What’s the honest answer to that question? If your answer is 100% yes, I am ok with not being ok, then this post is likely not for you. If your honest answer is no, I’m not ok with not being ok, then I give you permission to continue.  

I think the hardest part of admitting you’re not ok, is the vulnerability it takes to let that be known. First and foremost, you have permission to not be ok and you need to give yourself that; there truly is power in giving yourself that grace. No one expects you to be happy and positive at all times, and if you are, then I question how genuine of a person one might be. I am not saying run out of your house and tell the world you aren’t ok.  I am just simply saying that you dont always have to have your shit together, and you deserve plenty of forgiveness in admitting this to yourself.

I know everyone is different but I want to share my experience with this battle in my brain. I’M GUILTY!!! (Insert raising hand emoji here) I am aware that many women look to me to shine that ray of sunshine in their lives. What most dont see, are the hard days. The ones where I hide in my closet and cry. The days where it is nearly impossible to get out of bed or the ones where I have to force myself to simply take a shower and put make up on and force some sort of normalcy for the day. Newsflash!!!!  I’m not always ok. I’m not always positive. I’m not always traveling, or happy, or giving my all to everyone around me. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in my own brain with fear and sadness that I become paralyzed and being a wife, mom, and friend are nearly impossible.  For awhile, I felt guilty for feeling that way. I put so much pressure on myself to just be happy I was alive and implementing my own practices of being grateful for the simple, small things. That technique doesn’t always work and THAT’S OKAY!!!  The art of accepting “Its ok not to be ok” is full of good intent, however, at times, a major struggle. 

I wish every problem we had could just be tossed out a window or in to a fire, and it would be gone. Since we all know that isn’t possible, I will go ahead and give you permission to scream and cry at the top of your lungs instead. The chances of that making your problems go away, is probably zero as well, HOWEVER…

I want to be ok for everyone around me. I want to be ok for my kids, for my family, and my friends. I want to be ok for the women who look to me for advice. I want to be ok because I dont want to waste my time here on earth NOT being ok. That is a lot of internal pressure to “be ok”. If I dont give the impression that I am ok, then how does that filter over to everyone else? Will they worry?  
Who do you feel the need to be ok for? Think about that: take a moment to think about the burden you’re putting on yourself by acting as if you’re ok all of the time. The overwhelming feeling of constantly bottling the reality of your feelings and struggles inside. It’s a ticking time bomb and one that will inevitably explode. Unless you’re in the business of firing off bombs in the middle of the desert with no one around, this isn’t good for anyone, especially you.  

IT’S OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY! Repeat that until you believe it. Repeat that until you accept it.  Let yourself feel all of the feelings necessary to move through that and give yourself permission to move forward. I have learned that when I’m holding on to my feelings, it manifests anxiety, which then turns to guilt because I know it’s holding me back from being the best version of me. However, there is something to be said for accepting that you’re not ok. It’s the first step in allowing yourself to move forward in whatever manor you feel is best.  

Give yourself that privilege. Give yourself some love. You owe yourself as much,if not more love, than you give others. Don’t forget to internally verbalize that love while your accepting that you’re not ok. Sometimes, a little self-love is all it takes to realize that underneath all of that mush, is an amazingly beautiful and loving wife, friend, mother, and human being.  
You are human. You are not perfect.  Perfection shouldn’t be a goal. Patience, grace, acceptance, and happiness should be.  These are all word that I constantly have to remind myself of. Acceptance that it’s ok not to be ok. Patience in allowing myself to process whatever it is that I may be holding on to. Grace in knowing that may take some time.  And the most important part, in my opinion: happiness. The simple privilege that I owe it to myself, YOU owe it to yourself,  to feel happy, to feel at peace, to feel ok again.  That time will come, and there is no timeline that anyone, not even yourself, can put on that. 

I grant you permission to give yourself permission to not be ok, and I encourage you to love yourself enough to be ok with that. The sun will ALWAYS shine again, and everything will once again, be ok. 

The word perspective has come in to mind a lot lately. It’s an intention I have taught myself to learn over the last 6 years but even more so after the last 2. I truly believe our perspective in any situation, can completely change the way we cope and move forward. How I cope with and perceive my situation is what impacts my level of depression and anxiety. If I can manage to put things in to perspective, it provides a sense of calmness within my mind.  


That being said, I want to write about that today. Perspective. For me, when things seem really bad, I’m able to center myself on how I choose to perceive that moment in my life.  I want to be clear when I say that I would never wish what I have gone through the last couple of years on anyone! My hope is that I share a new perspective with you, from someone you know, from someone whose story you have possibly read, from a 30 something year-old who was relatively healthy despite having cancer. What might seem like the worst possible thing to happen to any one of us, doesn’t have to be if you have the ability, or take the time to simply change your perspective. I am, by no means, a master and at times I fail royally at doing this, however, when the effort is put forth, I find it incredibly rewarding for my mind, body, and spirit.  Asking myself why is this happening FOR me, instead of why is happening TO me, is a daily conversation I have with myself. Why did I get cancer? ME? WHY ME? I can dwell on that or I can answer the question with a perspective that only radiaites positivity. Why did this happen to me? It happened to me because I was meant to experience a life altering illness, to learn who I am, to share that experience with others, and to help others who will walk that same path. It happened so that I could create a platform for so many women to connect, to bring a community together, to empower other women. Thats why it happened. It didn’t happen because God was mad at me or because I did something wrong.  I am a firm believer in the saying, “positive perspective, positive outcome”. 


I can only imagine we are all processing what is going on in the world much different than the person sitting next to us. While many of us are trying to figure out a new routine, others may be trying to figure out a way to stay busy, and others may be taking this time to slow down. Many of us might be experiencing anxiety which can easily filter over to depression. I have personally had my own moments there. I feel anxiety knowing that there is something out there that could kill me other than cancer. I feel anxiety knowing people are out there spreading a virus and wont listen or acknowledge the orders set forth. I feel anxiety knowing I cant control those people, and those people, who I don’t even know, might be responsible for my own health. I feel anxiety knowing that the things I would normally do to cope with my anxiety aren’t available to me right now. Not being able to cope with my anxiety in the ways that I have taught myself to, is a slippery slope, and one that I am doing my best to avoid. This is where I choose perspective.  


There have been several moments in my life that I was sure it couldn’t get any worse than it already was. When I had cancer the first time, I thought I was dying. I specifically remember laying in my bed one night and my heart was racing so fast from all of the meds, and I was sure that was it; I prayed, and simply said I wasn’t ready yet. At 105 pounds, bald, and sick, I thought that was as bad as it could ever get, but just a short of 5 years later, I’d realize it was about to get much worse. In all honesty, I tried really hard to stay positive and tell myself it was a slipped disc from all the working out I had been doing. The pain escalated so quickly and in matter of days, I’d be paralyzed. I can very truthfully tell you, that the pain I was experiencing was so incredibly awful, that I almost didn’t care if it was my time. There truly are no words that could express the level of pain and fear I experienced. Imagine going through all of that, and then being told you have an incurable disease. Looking back, I’m glad it wasn’t the end and I’m obviously very blessed and happy to have recovered. To say that time in my life was life changing, is a complete understatement. It was a moment in time.  From start to finish, it was about 8 months of not being able to do much of anything between the pain and chemotherapy. Life: the life that I enjoyed, the life that I knew, the life that I did my best to create, was all taken away from me in a matter of a moment.  


In some ways, I very much relate that experience to what we are all experiencing right now. Life, as we knew it about a month ago, has been, for lack of a better term, “taken away from us”. Many of us can’t work.  Many of us are being forced to slow down. Many, if not, all of us, are very scared for what the future holds, whether it be the fear of life never returning back to normal or the fear of getting sick. I wake up every single day and I am reminded I have cancer. It’s not just a nightmare, its real, I have an incurable cancer. Imagine that for a moment. Imagine how that might impact the attitude that I go in to every day with. We are all waking up right now with the fear of the unknown, the fear of this virus. We are all making adjustments and the hardest thing for us to accept is the idea that we have no control. While that may be true in some ways, it is not all true. What we DO have control over, is how we choose to perceive what is happening and how we choose to move in to the next moment. By moment, I mean, the very next moment, minute, hour, or day. It’s as simple as saying, “I don’t want to feel this way anymore. What can I do to feel differently?”


If the emotions that consume you are ones of anxiety, depression, confusion, anger, sadness, etc…those are the emotions that are going to determine the day ahead. I’m not saying don’t go there, I’m asking you to not stay there. Feel it, physically let it go, and come to a place of acceptance that this is where we are right now. What can YOU do to change your perspective? What can YOU do to find the positivity, or the silver lining if you will, in this? Personally, I have found SO many.  I hate being locked up like this. It sucks! Its not me and I’m even more angry that I can’t just go live my best life, travel, visit my friends and my family, and that I am completely quarantined, while I’m battling cancer. Now I have to sit here and do nothing??? Yes. Will I?  No. I choose to change what I am doing. I choose to make the best of these new and current circumstances. But what does that look like? For me, it looks like going on a bike ride outside, learning to play my ukulele thats been sitting in my closet for months, spending good quality time with my husband, and having awesome conversations with so many amazing friends.  


Perspective: a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view.  


We are not suffering, we are growing. We are not being tormented, we are being taught. Are we being taught patience? Are we being taught how simple it might be to feel happiness amidst the chaos of our every day routines? How can we take this time to grow? Is it learning to slow down and spend more time with the ones you love? Is it realizing how important, how special it is, how MEANINGFUL it is to have conversations with our loved ones that we may have been too busy to have otherwise? Is it having the time to take that 5 minutes to feel the wind blowing, or watch the water flowing, or your dog rolling in the grass and the simple happiness that brings him.  Why is it so difficult for many of us to find those simply joys? It’s times like these that we are forced to come together to help one another, to love one another, to truly appreciate one another. How incredibly amazing is that???  


I’m not preaching. I’m teaching you what perspective means to me. This is what I’ve learned the past couple of years. I do not enjoy what is going on right now, but what I do enjoy is that we have all been given this time to slow down, to look around us, and to acknowledge and feel how simple life can be.  Happiness is simple if you allow it to be. It doesn’t have to be complicated. We make it complicated.  


My hope is that when this is all over, we are more connected, more patient with ourselves and one another, and that we live a life full of simple gratitude. I hope we can learn to feel the serenity of being present and knowing that most of this life we are blessed with is beyond our control. I hope we have shared stories and so much time with our families that it becomes our new routine. I hope we find comfort and acceptance within ourselves. Most importantly, I hope we can all take this time to give ourselves the privilege of seeing this life we have been given with a new perspective.  You owe that to yourself. You owe yourself happiness. You owe yourself peace. You deserve it. We all deserve it and we are all capable of it. Trust me, one day you will look back at all of this, and realize it was just a moment in time, a blip on the map of your life.  Perspective: Do you see a weed, or do you see a wish?  Perspective: Is this storm here to disrupt your life, or clear your path?  Perspective: Is this happening TO us or FOR us?  

What I love the most about perspective, is that it’s MY choice.  I get to choose and control what that looks like for me.  I get to choose how I will move in to the next moment of my life, and I implore you to do the same.  I encourage and challenge you to seek and find hope in knowing the sun will always shine again. 

I have a lot to say. This week has been tough and I am not sure that I have made it completely clear or obvious just how hard it has been on me - for many reasons. The circles that go around in my head are pretty overwhelming and confusing at times. It's a battle. A battle of guilt for not being positive all the time, a battle of put a smile on your face and pretend everything is ok because I don't want anyone feeling bad for me, and then a battle of these horrible dark thoughts that I have convinced myself are probably pretty normal.

I don't like to acknowledge or admit or even say it out loud that metastatic breast cancer is essentially a terminal diagnosis. Im 38. How the hell did I get diagnosed with a diagnosis that has no cure? Lucky me. I don't know if getting these thoughts out of my head will make them go away. I feel like there is this little apartment in my brain that is cluttered with junk. While everyone else is busy decluttering their closets, this is my attempt to declutter my brain. Its also my attempt to be honest because I cannot imagine I am the only person with this diagnosis that feels this way. Before you continue reading, I am going to warn you that this may not be an easy read. Specifically for those that are very close to me, but I am going to preface this with letting you know this isn't going to be the butterflies and rainbows of blog posts.

So here goes - and my plan is to just filter through these thoughts as they come out so please excuse the randomness that might ensue.

I am scared. I’ve mentioned that before but I’m really freaking scared. I am scared that if my current treatment isn't working, that I will be left with options of clinical trials which really just makes me a statistical lab rat followed by endless dr appts, scans, bloodwork, etc. Fact of the matter is, I am already there. Im a human pin cushion - to the point that I now have to count to 10, 3 times a week, and inject myself with a shot in my stomach to boost my white blood cells (WBC). Currently my treatments are on Mondays and each Monday we sit there, with this super conflicting uncomfortable feeling of..."Well, I hope I can get chemo today". Meanwhile, the majority of the world is just hoping they can survive their usual case of the Mondays after the weekend. I mean, who HOPES they can get chemo and feel like shit for 5 days after? Apparently....my husband and I do...because if I can't - then what? Then the cancer grows?

I can’t do much of anything I used to do before. My BFF was in town this weekend and while it was awesome to just chill and watch TV, talk, decorate cookies, and hang out...at one point I wanted the old me to jump off the couch, bust out some old school 90's, and in Jen fashion...moon walk, Roger rabbit, running man, and display my best attempt at possibly twerking. Because if you know me well...you know thats a "Jen thing" to do. My back pain, on top of my WBC shots, on top of my chemo side effects...just don't let me do that. Last night I went to bed...I couldn't sleep knowing I had to take my best friend to the airport in the morning. The ugly thoughts wouldn't stop. When I dropped her off, I said what I had been thinking about all night and what kept me up until 3AM. I didn’t want to say it but I did. "I hope this isn't the last time I see you". I wondered if she felt the same but in true Heather, always optimistic fashion, she replied with “you will”. We cried and hugged - and neither of us wanted to let go. I’m not sure I’ve ever hugged my best friend of almost 20 years that long and hard. We looked at each other, attempted to laugh at ourselves for crying, hugged again...and that was it. I love you bestie, and even though I struggle to accept that maybe our crazy shenanigans may be limited, we adjusted well by decorating ridiculous llama cookies together. I’m not ashamed to admit - we even named them and I may have discovered a new way of meditating through art.

As far as my family goes...I feel like a complete burden. I feel like everyone is putting their normal life on hold for me. I don't like that. I want normalcy but the fact of the matter is...this isn't normal. Life isn't normal right now and I wonder if it ever will be again. I don't feel like a wife or a mother. I feel like a cancer patient. I cant keep up with simple daily tasks and while my husband has been more than amazing...the roles he has absorbed, that were once mine, are what made me feel like I was a contributing member of my family. Now Im just proud of myself if I can pick up the clothes off the bathroom floor and put them in the hamper. I’m not lazy, I’m just in pain.

I have anxiety. Bad. Who wouldn't in this situation? Anxiety makes me shut down. It makes me quiet. It makes me feel crazy. It spirals in to depression and guilt and all kinds of other sometimes irrational thoughts. At times, I’d be happier if I was just completely alone because then I wouldn't feel like Im such a burden. At times, I just want to be left alone in my own thoughts. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to acknowledge it. I want to pretend none of it is even happening. But it is...and thats when I shut down. I am really doing my best this time around to not do that. Losing my ability to work out doesn't help my cause one bit. It was always my escape, my reminder that I was healthy enough to be on my bike, or strong enough to lift weights. I cant do that right now, and Im not sure I'll ever be able to again. That scares me. The thought of not being able to travel and hike, or walk up a mountain, or sit on an airplane for an extended period of time...it all scares me.

What scares me and hurts me the most is something I really don't even want to say but if Im being completely honest here...Im gonna say it. I want my husband to be happy and live a life that is fulfilling and full of love and I want to be that person to him forever. Id be lying if I didn't say it kills me that there's a chance I may not be. Of course I would want him to move on...but he's MY MAN. He's MY HUSBAND and I love him more than anything. I love his (our) kids more than anything. I want to see them graduate and be a grandma. I want to grow old with him, and travel with him, and be the one who loves him the way we were meant to love each other till death do us part. The reality in my head is that till death do us part...could come much sooner than either of us ever imagined it would.

I don't want to question every time someone comes to visit me if it's the last time I will see them. I don't want to wonder if my niece and nephew are going to remember who their aunt is. I don't want my parents to have to worry or even think about losing their daughter to cancer. I don't want to hope that I can get chemo on Mondays. I don't want to wonder if I will ever have hair again. I don't want to wonder if the headache Im waking up with is a tumor growing on my brain.

I want to live my life the way I had been living it since I completed treatment for my first diagnosis. I want to be the mother and wife I was 6 months ago. I want to continue to help other women who are probably feeling much like I do right now and my plan is to do that forever. I want to surf again. I want to sit on a beach with flamingos. I want to dance. I just want to be Jen again. I live a very blessed life - the life I always dreamt of. No matter what happens...I need to find grace, patience, and most of all...I need to find gratitude in the life that I have lived and am living. I’m not dead, and no one has told me I am. I’m just limited and it’s frustrating.

I don't want you to feel bad for me. I really don't. That is not the purpose in this post. To be frank...this post was for me. This post is filled with the hope that I could get this out of my head and maybe move on from it a bit. Maybe a little bit of this post was filled with the hope that as you're reading it - you might just close your eyes, take a deep breath, scan your body from head to toe, be grateful for your health, don't sweat the small stuff, and acknowledge all of the blessings that surround you. That's what I want from you right now. Just do that...that is what would make me happy today.

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I know you see me smiling but behind that smile, I am scared. I am not sure anyone realizes how scared I actually am and Im not even sure I really want anyone to know.  

Shaving my head for the 2nd time in my life was no easier than it was 5 years ago. The army you see standing behind me is one hell of a freaking army and I know, this time, I am not alone in this battle.  Im surrounded by fellow survivors and fighters, my family, my friends, but most importantly Im surrounded by LOVE.  I have so much love for every single person in this photo and I was blessed to have them all by my side.  

To be honest, I am not even sure any of this has really settled with me.  It's the biggest challenge I have had in writing my blog again.  I feel like writing about it again just makes it more real.  I want to get this out of my head but I also don't want people to feel sorry for me or as if I am complaining but this fucking sucks. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?????????? WHY? WHY? WHY?  

I asked myself that same question 5 years ago and my answer became more clear a couple of years later when I started my non-profit.  We've helped so many women and I finally found my purpose in life. Here I am asking that question again.  I don't get it.  I did everything I could.  I ate healthy, I worked out, I stopped drinking alcohol almost completely outside of the occasional glass of champagne or 2.  But here I am again...bald.  Chemotherapy took my hair again.  For a moment, I will forget and then I'll scratch my head only to come back with a handful of stubbles.  I'll catch myself in the mirror and it takes me back to a place I was 5 years ago.  A place that I am trying very hard not to go to.  

Im doing my best to stay positive.  It's a weird feeling...I am 3 treatments in and even though I was feeling like complete crap - I had hair.  No one knew I was sick.  Now...I look sick.  Now...Im the girl that has cancer....again.  Im the girl when you see me walking in Target you look at and probably feel bad for me.  I don't want to be THAT girl.  But I also don't want to be the girl that hides this time around. Even as I am typing this, I looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror and its just unbelievable. I know and hope that I will find a new purpose behind this again.  I want to believe that its God's way of giving me the true understanding of every single aspect of cancer so I can relate to all of these women we help.  The truth is, I am so mad at God right now.  I know he knows this.  I lack in prayer because I am mad. As I type that I am crying because it just makes me feel guilty - for many reasons.  I hate admitting it but I am trying to pray for understanding through this.  I have to find that in my own time and on my own terms though.  I know that only he knows my heart, and only he knows the purpose behind this new pain.  

On September 5th, 2018 I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer with liver and bone mets.  I have multiple tumors on my spine and other bones and 5 spots on my liver.  I will be in treatment for the rest of my life. That is reality.  I am bald again.  That is reality.  I don't know if I will ever have hair again.  There I said it.  

Cancer won't ever win though.  Because of it, I am surrounded by more love and support than I could ever have imagined. Though tears might fall, and fear might consume me at times, I am not alone this time.  I am one lucky girl to be surrounded by all of these amazing people, by ALL of you.  

4 years ago when Dana, of Ana Ono Intimates, contacted me asking me to write a blog about her bra line, I never imagined one day it would manifest itself on a runway in New York City Fashion Week.  My blog has been my outlet to be honest and truthful about every challenge I have experienced since the day I was diagnosed, all while sharing useful tips and tricks for how to get through cancer treatments.  Whether I was on a high, or a low, or sharing a bra that made me feel beautiful again, I have always felt the importance in expressing the complete rawness of what it has been like to endure a cancer diagnosis at a young age.  Most who know me well, know I wear my heart on my sleeve, I am honest, and I am extremely shy when put in vulnerable situations.  

There were lots of highs and few lows through out my weekend in New York.  Mainly highs - like highs so high it didnt even feel like real life.  I am looking back and realizing that the lows were my anxieties putting a block up. It was my shyness, it was backing myself in to a corner because I was scared or nervous - something I do that most people don’t really understand about me.  I have been blessed with incredible, life changing opportunities that have continued to alter my outlook on life.  I am constantly reevaluating the person that I am and doing my best to accept I am not the Jen I was before cancer. There are these parts of me that are still very much there - like that introverted girl that I have realized is sort of a hidden gem because its raw and its me being real - and then there are moments like this weekend where I surprise myself.  

These are the moments in life, these amazing, unforgettable moments that I wont ever take for grant it.  Each one of those moments, I take something away, and I learn something about myself.  Sometimes, that old Jen comes out and its refreshing to know that I am still in there somewhere.  Most of us who experience a cancer diagnosis go through a grieving process of those 5 challenging steps.  There’s denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  Denial - did I really just have cancer?  Did I really just lose my hair, and my breasts, and WHO AM I NOW?  Anger - Why did that just happen to me?  What did I do to deserve the hell I just had to go through - am I doomed?  Bargaining…if I do this, I will change that.  If I eat better, if I pray, if I work out, if I do all these things for others, then surely my cancer wont come back (obviously not the case).  Depression.  Yah Ive been there a lot.  Depression (and anxiety) involves all of those previous thoughts swirling through my head on a daily basis.  Sometimes I can take control of them, and others I cant.  Sometimes, I lose friends and I have survivors guilt or I wonder when will that be me?  My fears are a battle that I have deep conversations with every single day.  

And then there is “Acceptance”.  Acceptance that we endured a traumatic event in life and how can we move forward living the best life possible.  Acceptance that we are discovering who we are on daily basis, acceptance in who that person is, acceptance in being CONFIDENT in the person we are discovering, and acceptance that we have to embrace every single day, and every single moment as if it were our last.  We have to find acceptance that our bodies are forever changed and then embrace that change.  Most importantly, we accept that we were given a platform to change the way that others see beauty, the way others see confidence, and the way others have stereotyped breast cancer as the “easy” or “pretty” cancer.  Acceptance that we are the dangerous ones, the ones who speak up, the ones who advocate for those who can no longer.  

I assure you there is nothing “pretty” about any sort of cancer.  Breast cancer is not a “boob job”.  Breast cancer is not “curable”.  Breast cancer is not “easy” and it is certainly not “pretty”.  I was asked what this fashion show meant to me and why was it different from the rest of New York Fashion Week.  Ive sat on that question since it was asked.  What is beauty anyways? Is it the 5’10 model walking down the runway in that expensive designer outfit?  To some, yes.  Is it the 5’6 woman who has been through hell and back, parts of her body amputated, scars left behind, who can still walk down that runway with confidence? Thats where I see true beauty.  Each and every woman who walked down that run way with me has looked at ourselves in the mirror completely stripped of everything…our hair, our eyebrows, our eyelashes, and our breasts. We have had tubes hanging out of us at some point, multiple IV’s, multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, weight gain, weight loss, depression, anxiety, fear, loss.  Unfortunately, we have lost too many friends who are not here to share that story…and so we walked in confidence for them all.  

What does beauty mean to you?  For me, it means standing in a room with women who are REAL with one another, who are HONEST with one another, who INSPIRE one another, who ENCOURAGE one another, who make a DIFFERENCE in the world, who stand in CONFIDENCE with one another, and who ADVOCATE on behalf of the our friends who are no longer here. We all took this opportunity to tell our stories and to make an impact - to change the way the world sees breast cancer.   THAT is beauty.  There is no judgement in true beauty.  There is no comparison or jealousy in true beauty.  True beauty is standing up for what you believe in and speaking loud for the entire world to hear. Beauty is seeing past the anger, past the depression, past the anxiety, past the emotional and physical battle wounds, and standing on a stage with a fierce confidence and a genuine appreciation for every single step we were blessed to take on that runway.  Each foot forward was one full of acceptance, until we reached the end of the runway. It was our individual opportunity to look at the cameras, to look at the world, tell them our story, showing cancer who's in control with no words...just our eyes and our actions.  We accepted our beauty, we owned our beauty, we owned our scars, we owned our cancer, and we ACCEPTED that our past is what has brought us to the present moment.  We embraced this as our platform to show the world what TRUE BEAUTY is, what CONFIDENCE really looks like, and what breast cancer REALLY is.  Its scars, its pain, its sadness, its loss, its fear, and its women living in strength as ONE, beyond all of that.  Breast cancer is not "pretty in pink".  

As you read this, please take time to educate yourself on the facts of metastatic breast cancer because the scary facts are this…1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer and of those 8….1 in 3 of them will go on to be metastatic. There is NO cure.  Donate to METativor, the sole US organization dedicated to awarding annual stage 4 breast cancer research, which is beyond important.  Join in the conversation with #Cancerland, who provides a platform to address breast cancer’s often ignored realities.  Follow them on social media and do your part to change the conversations about breast cancer.  Ask questions, be curious, make a difference, help us do more to save more lives because at the end of the day, we want to end the assumptions and create a conversation based on reality.  

Project Cancerland and Ana Ono Intimates provided us with an opportunity to show, not only the world, but ourselves, the reality of cancer.  I assure you, this runway was filled with the most beautiful women in NYC - physical beauty, internal beauty, raw beauty, a genuine beauty you are unlikely to find on any other runway in the world. That was not the most important message though.  The most important message was the women who were not here to walk that stage with us.  The emotional honor we all took with us down the runway as we walked for them was an honor we did not take lightly.   The message is in the truth behind breast cancer.  The 1 in 8, the thousands of women dying EACH DAY from breast cancer, and the lack of funds that go towards those with metastatic breast cancer. The mission was to show the world the faces behind this deadly disease, to bring awareness to those who may not understand the truth behind breast cancer.  It is not the beautiful cancer, it is not the easy cancer. It is a deadly cancer, and WE ARE ONE, WE ARE THE ONE IN EIGHT WHO WILL BECOME THE ONE IN THREE, WE ARE THE TRUTH, WE ARE…THE DANGEROUS ONES.