Well the word is out. As some of you already know, today was the first day of 6 months of chemotherapy, and I am armed and more ready than ever for battle. 
To cancer, I say, fuck you—you came for the wrong woman. Love having my daughter and my cousin/best friend with me today while Aaron Colliver makes his way home from Spain.
What started as a benign cyst quickly grew into an aggressive triple-negative stage 3 breast cancer. I still have more testing to undergo—but due to the aggressiveness of the cancer, they started chemo immediately, so I don’t have a chemo port yet, but will have it inserted next week. (Thank goodness because I hate IVs and needles!)
I also have a cold cap, which will hopefully help reduce hair loss and let’s be honest – it makes me look damn sexy 
The next year will be arduous, but as someone who has faced and overcome many difficult challenges—including voluntarily subjecting myself for years to the grueling pain of Ironmans and dozens of marathons – I fully trust that I have the body and mind to withstand it all.
This journey has, of course, been anything but easy. Some days, it feels like I’ve climbed a mountain only to face another one in the distance. Some days, the weight feels unbearable. Yet even in those moments, I find small victories: laughter with loved ones, dog kisses, beautiful sunsets, walks I can take, and the way my body continues to fight.
One of my greatest sources of strength has been the unwavering love and support of my husband, daughter, and our families. They have walked this path with me, carrying a burden that sometimes goes unnoticed. It’s easy to forget how hard it is for caregivers—the ones who stand by us, hold us up when we feel like falling, and quietly bear the emotional and physical toll alongside us. I am reminded daily that this journey isn’t mine alone; it’s ours.
I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to reach out to them too.
I am also so grateful to those of you who have bravely shared your own cancer journeys over the years and those who have contacted me. I knew that you would be a safe space for me to seek advice, encouragement, understanding, and most importantly, hope. I hope I can be that space for someone else one day as well.
Truly thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to the survivors. I am not thrilled to be part of this club, but I am grateful to be among such strong and inspiring people. You are my HEROES. 
I am also grateful for my medical team. I know I am in the best hands and receiving the best care I could ask for. I owe my incredible friend, Anna, the world for that one.
Finally, thank you to those who have been there and continue to show up. I know that when this is behind me, there will be some of you who will mean more to me than ever before, and I will owe a lifetime of gratitude, love, and debt.
Perseverance isn’t a straight path. It’s messy, filled with stumbles and setbacks. But it’s also filled with grace. It’s about learning to trust the fear of the unknown and embracing the beauty of a life forever changed.
Breast cancer will always be part of my story, but it’s not the whole story. My identity is rooted in who I am, not in a diagnosis. Some days, I feel broken and overwhelmed; other days, I feel whole and strong again. It’s okay to feel it all—grief, anger, hope, joy. Perseverance isn’t about being unshakable; it’s about leaning on those I love and moving forward, one day at a time.
Again, thank you, thank you to everyone for your support, love, kind words and thoughts – all of it really means a lot to me – more than you will ever ever possibly know or understand. Keep reminding me that I’m a badass bitch because the warrior in me loves and needs to hear it 
