Things I’ve Learned in a Year of Chemotherapy (My Second Cancer Diagnosis)

A year ago, I found myself back in a place I never thought I’d return to.

Cancer.

Again.

The first time I was diagnosed, my journey looked different—no chemotherapy, no radiation. Just multiple surgeries and a long road of healing. It was hard, but in many ways, it felt… contained.

This time?

This time has been everything.

Chemotherapy.
Radiation.
Surgery.

And I’m still in it.

MentaI won’t finish chemo until June—right before my 40th birthday.

And if I’m being honest, nothing could have prepared me for what this year would take from me… and what it would teach me.

1. Strength Doesn’t Always Look Strong

The first time around, I thought I understood strength.

This time showed me a different version.

Strength is:

  • Showing up to treatment when every part of you wants to run
  • Smiling at your kids when you feel like you’re falling apart
  • Letting yourself break… and still choosing to keep going

It’s not always pretty. It’s not always brave.

But it’s real.

2. The Mental Battle Is Just as Hard

No one really prepares you for what happens in your mind.

The constant fear.
The overanalyzing every ache.
The quiet panic that creeps in when something feels “off.”

Even during treatment, your brain whispers:
What if this doesn’t work?
What if it comes back… again?

Cancer doesn’t just live in your body—it takes up space in your thoughts, too.

3. Treatment Changes Everything About You

Chemotherapy and radiation don’t just attack cancer.

They change you.

Your body feels unfamiliar:

  • Hair gone… then slowly coming back, but different
  • Nails brittle
  • Energy drained
  • Strength not what it used to be

And then there are the deeper changes:

  • Surgical menopause
  • Hormonal shifts
  • A body you don’t fully recognize

It’s not just about healing—it’s about learning how to exist in a new version of yourself.

4. You Can Be Grateful and Still Struggle

I am grateful.

Grateful for treatment.
Grateful for the doctors.
Grateful to be here.

But I would be lying if I said this hasn’t been one of the hardest seasons of my life.

You can be thankful and still feel:

  • Angry
  • Sad
  • Exhausted
  • Over it

Two things can be true at the same time.

5. People Don’t Always Know What to Say

And that’s okay… but it’s also hard.

People try:

  • “You’re so strong”
  • “Everything happens for a reason”
  • “At least you caught it”

And while it comes from a good place, sometimes what you really need is simpler:

Someone to sit with you.
Someone to listen.
Someone to say, “This sucks—and I’m here.”

6. You Learn Who Shows Up

Cancer has a way of making things very clear.

The people who check in.
The ones who stay.
The ones who don’t look away when it gets hard.

And while there’s heartbreak in that clarity… there’s also something beautiful about knowing exactly who your people are.

7. Time Hits Different Now

Before this, life felt busy.

Now… it feels intentional.

You notice:

  • The small moments
  • The slow mornings
  • The laughter you used to rush past

Because when your time feels uncertain, you start treating it like it matters.

8. You Don’t Have to Feel Ready to Keep Going

There were days I didn’t feel strong.

Days I didn’t feel positive.

Days I didn’t feel like I could do it again.

But I did.

Not because I felt ready…
But because I didn’t have a choice.

And what I’ve learned is this:

You don’t need to have it all together.
You just need to take the next step.

9. Being “In Between” Is Its Own Kind of Hard

I’m in this space right now.

The scans may look good.
Treatment is still happening.
My body is healing… but not fully healed.

Hair is growing back—but I miss what it was.
Strength is returning—but not where it used to be.

It’s this strange in-between of:
Gratitude and grief.
Healing and hurting.
Moving forward… while still mourning.

And honestly?

This part is harder than I expected.

10. This Changed Me Forever

I am not the same person I was before cancer.

And I never will be.

There are pieces of me I miss.

But there are also parts of me that are stronger, more aware, more present than ever before.

And maybe that’s what I’m learning to hold onto.

Final Thoughts

If you’re in the middle of it right now… I see you.

If you’re in that “almost done but not okay yet” phase… I see you.

If you’re carrying the mental weight long after treatment ends… I see you too.

This journey isn’t linear. It isn’t easy. And it doesn’t just “end.”

But you are not alone in it.

If you’re going through cancer—or walking through something heavy—and feel like no one understands…

I’m here.

Message me. Comment. Share your story.

Let’s build a space where people don’t have to pretend they’re okay… and don’t have to walk through it alone.

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