Tiana (April)

I remember one of my first questions to the doctor was, “How much time do I have left?” because I immediately assumed I was dying. The first couple of weeks upon diagnosis were so hard, there was so much fear and waiting. I just needed to feel like I was doing something about it.

Cancer isn’t treated like an emergency, but it sure is an emergency in the patient’s eyes. You want nothing more than to get it out of you. I just remember being really scared, for myself, my kids, my husband. How is this going to change our life? What is life going to look like? I don’t want to miss anything. I want to be part of all the things.

And money? How? How are we going to get through this? I need to work. We need to pay bills. What is this going to cost us? So many big emotions.

How did I get through the tough days? By being loved so big by so many people. By moving my body when I could. By connecting with other breasties. By talking to God. By being with the people I love and resting when I needed rest. You just do, you don’t have a choice. A really tough day often brought me strength the next day to fight harder. They somehow gave me an extra boost to keep going.

There were so many unexpected moments of kindness. People showed up for us in a million different ways, it’s honestly indescribable. My heart breaks that not all people have that, because I can’t imagine this diagnosis without it. I remember the simple things: a text, a phone call, a prayer. Meals, gifts, money, acts of kindness - all the things.

I remember so many people telling me I was strong. I didn’t feel strong. But I guess I needed to prove these people right, that maybe I could be strong through this. I still don’t know that strength is what I showed, but instead grit, I was going to make it through this, no matter what it took.

My connections with other breasties brought me a different kind of strength. They got it. They had felt the same things. They had to push through, too. They were there for the highs and the lows, and they’d listen to my rants and frustrations. B the Light helped to connect me with some of these women, and I am forever grateful for that.

B the Light was another unexpected kindness. When I first learned about it, I was nervous to go to my first event. Would I fit in? Would I know anyone? What would it be like? But I am so thankful for everything B the Light has given me, from connections and time with others, to support, meals, spa days, Hope Handbags, galas, and so much more. It’s been life-changing in a million good ways. People showed up big for our family, and we will forever remember the million acts of kindness shown to us. It was such a bright light in a dark journey.

I surprised myself in many ways, my ability to push through really hard moments. My ability to start a more consistent workout plan and stick with it. About two months into chemo, I set a goal to hit 10,000 steps a day. Five years later, I still average that every day. It helped my recovery in so many ways.

I had two mantras that kept me grounded. The first was: “God’s got me.” I repeated that in my head a million times a day. It kept me above water and gave me peace. The second was the power of “and.” Joy AND grief can exist together.

What does life look like now? Joy-filled chaos. Many scary and anxiety-filled moments, many close calls, many “now what’s,” and many moments of, “Is this how I’m going to feel forever?” But also, many moments of joy, hope, amazing memories, lifestyle changes, adaptations to the new me, purpose, grit, strength, and determination.

My goal is to embrace the new me, not focus on what the old me would have been doing or feeling. I can’t change my path, but I can change the decisions I make on my new path. It’s a work in progress. Guilt sneaks in. But I get to live. I get to have a million moments with my friends and family. I get to make the best of this life I still get to live every day. And for that, I am thankful.

Yes, my perspective on life has changed. Life changed for us suddenly and stopped me in my tracks. I try to live each day to the fullest, but I still have hard days, and I don’t want to feel guilty for that. Hard days are normal. If I need to take care of myself, I’m learning to do that without guilt. My body doesn’t handle overdoing it anymore. I have to listen to it so I can be a better version of me.

Little things don’t weigh on me as much now. I just want to be with my people. That’s what matters most.

Being a survivor means I spent time battling a journey I didn’t choose, a journey that chose me. It means I got a second chance. It means connection, advocacy, hope, love, joy, hard work, rest, showing up, and loving big. It means pushing through hard moments and loving myself as I am - not how I wish I could be.

There’s so much about cancer that people don’t talk about. It’s not about pink ribbons or “f*** cancer” bracelets. It’s a battle no one sees you fighting, even when they know you have breast cancer. It changes you physically, emotionally, and mentally. And it never really ends. You aren’t “better” just because chemo is over. It’s lifelong.

It’s a path I wouldn’t have chosen, but I’m so thankful for what God has given me through it: the people, the connections, the memories, the moments. It’s amazing what this journey has gifted me, so unexpected, but pretty dang amazing.

To someone just diagnosed: it is a problem, but it has a solution. There will be hard days, and that’s okay. You don’t have to feel strong every day. You don’t have to feel admirable. You don’t have to feel like a hero. You get to do you.You will have so many days ahead filled with joy and spark. This diagnosis will change your life—but it will also give you an outlook not everyone has. You’ll find joy more easily, hope more often, and you’ll love bigger. You will be okay.