Today hits different. It’s my first Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day, and honestly, it still feels surreal to say that out loud.
I’ve acknowledged this day before; shared posts, donated, honored the ones we’ve lost. I never imagined I’d be part of the group those posts were about. I used to see “Stage IV” and think “that’s the worst-case scenario.” Now, that’s me. I’m living it.
These days, life feels like walking a tightrope between faith and fear. And when I say faith, I’m not talking about religion. I mean that deep-down belief that somehow, I’ll keep finding my way through. That I’ve made it through every hard day before this one, so I probably can handle this one too. But fear? Oh, she still pops up. Loud and uninvited. Sometimes she’s a whisper, sometimes she’s shouting in my ear- especially before a scan or when I’m having a carefree day.
The truth is, MBC is exhausting. Not just physically, but emotionally. The constant appointments, the meds, the blood draws, the “how are you feeling?” conversations- it’s a full-time job trying to hold it all together. And on top of that, there are the thoughts that never really stop. The ones that wake you up at 3 a.m. asking questions you don’t want to answer.
But in the middle of all that? There’s still joy. There’s laughter. There’s this deep appreciation for the people who keep showing up for me- the ones who text, call, sit beside me during chemo, or just let me vent without trying to fix it. You start to really see who’s in your corner, who gets it, and who’s willing to hold space for both your strength and your struggle.
So yeah, this first MBC Day feels heavy and sacred all at once. I’m scared sometimes, sure. But I’m also grateful- to still be here, to still be writing, to still be finding light even in the middle of the mess.
This isn’t the life I planned, but it’s the one I’ve got. And every single day I wake up, I’m learning how to live it- somewhere between faith and fear, with a little bit of grace and determination, a lot of love, and a reminder to breathe through it all.
12 Responses
Thanks for being transparent. May you continue to thrive. I hope you continue to find Joy between faith and fair and more grace daily .
Thanks so much Monique. I receive this. Claiming Joy!
Thanks so much Monique! I appreciate you.
Thank you for this Cynthia love and light to you Soror!
Thank you Soror! 🩷💚
Thank you for sharing your journey. Here I am at 3am reading this post. Insomnia creeps in every time I restart my kisqali. Diagnosed with DCIS in February and had mastectomy in May of 2017. After having emergency surgery in February of this year, I was diagnosed with MBC in March. I hang on to Jesus, believing there’s a lot more to live for.
I can totally relate. Those 3 AM thoughts are something else. I started on Kisqali after my MBC diagnosis in May. Then we switched to chemo. Hoping to be back on Kisqali soon. Wishing you love, light and peace as you navigate this new normal.
I can totally relate. Those 3 AM thoughts are something else. I started on Kisqali after my MBC diagnosis in May. Then we switched to chemo. Hoping to be back on Kisqali soon. Wishing you love, light and peace as you navigate this new normal.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. Living with MBC is challenging but I see you living and loving through it. Thank you for your example. 🙏🏼💖
No Deb! Thank you for your example. This is why our community is so important. It sets an example and provides education before you even know you need it.
Beautifully said, thank you for sharing!
Thanks for reading Val! Love ya!