Three words you don't want to hear, and I wonder what it feels like to have three words you don't want to say
It is with distinct clarity that I can still hear the voice and accent "you have cancer", it is with distinct clarity that I remember the world stop and the slow-motion reaction and unfolding of this reality. It was probably just a few seconds.
I do always feel compelled to Mark this day, and to think about things. It's generally called the "cancerversary". I'm not sad on this day and I think it's significant and a blessing that I'm at my yoga teacher training, surrounded by beautiful souls talking about deep stuff and doing the thing that brings me much joy. In fact I'm here specifically because of having had cancer, my goal is to teach other cancer survivors yoga so that they can hopefully feel the same connection to the self and to the world and to happiness that I have found.
A couple of days ago I was feeling much more emotional about this anniversary, thinking about the impact of a life changed forever, and the lives of my loved ones change forever. It's still a heavy emotional thought. But at the risk of the cliché, and of offending those who don't believe in the "cancer gift", I truly am in awe of how I feel today and where I am today.
I can't even begin to express the value of the friendships and connections I've made, both with other survivors, and just as a result of revealing my experience to any person I may meet
My spiritual and personal growth is like a supernova.
I still wear glitter
And I have good hair
I love you