HOW I HEAL(ED) FROM CANCER
Nothing like some light summer reading on tumultuous trauma healing, am I right? What can I say, it’s the middle of cancer season and I am indeed a cancer sun sign — my core essence furling ferociously in my deep feels.
Alas, we’re here to connect on a different type of cancer story.
These words have been bubbling inside me for years — 5 years to be exact. I have written here and there on synovial sarcoma and healing, but it shocks many that I’ve never truly written about my the cancer journey at-length — One of my mentors once told me it’s best not to tether to this trauma with “my”, but rather use “the” to create more space to transcend.
I guess I have been in search of that idyllic moment to unleash all of the “wisdom” & lessons I’ve absorbed like an insatiable sponge over the years. Then I realized, as a recovering perfectionist, the perfect moment does not exist. The moment where I am fully “healed” to tell all my “wisdom” is a self-discerned fallacy. We are all constantly peeling back layers of life like a weaning peony freeing its petals. As soon as we experience an “aha,” it quickly contorts into a convoluted web of “but wait…” bringing us full circle to our initial conundrum.
Which is where I find myself now — 5 years later, labeled “cancer-free” by medical maestros, and reconnecting with many of the mysterious questions I asked myself about life & death when I was first diagnosed with a one-in-a-million cancer. Most poignantly, “Why?…Why me? Why now? etc.” We can quickly spiral into an Alice & Wonderland rabbit hole to doomsville here, but I tend to take the divination route, searching for silver linings in stormy weather. Even when I was first diagnosed and I wasn’t “spiritual,” I felt instilled with an eerie peace that this was a pivotal part of my purpose on this planet. Or, as the conductor of my own life, I would sure as hell make it a part of it. Within the spiritual community, many perceive patterns & cycles as negative, but that’s life & healing.
Life is a series of full circle spirals. Not always spiraling down, but spiraling up — ascending to a higher vantage point.
Despite aging & growth, the expansive enigmas we seek answers to in the present (ie. what is the purpose of this diagnosis?) are very similar to the esoteric questions we ask & reflect on later in life as well. The only change is our perspective, thanks to lessons learned that lift our sight slightly higher. We begin to break through silo’s of self & start to think about how we can serve the greater good.
And then just when we feel like we have found the answer, the comfortable clarity turns to fog once again due to yet another curve ball that throws our consciousness for a loop. Such is healing.
So, whether you are a trauma fighter, survivor or a loved one looking to hold space for a fellow wounded soul, I hope this story gives you a helpful, hopeful higher vantage point of healing.
PRE-DIAGNOSIS
DAZED & CONFIDENTLY CONFUSED
The year I was diagnosed with cancer I was living the life of my so-called dreams. I had recently moved out of my meatpacking apartment that was sandwiched in between two of the hottest nightclubs (if you are a NYC native, you may be familiar with this infamous corner of 17th and 10th ave), into a shiny new apartment in Gramercy. It was about a month before I was diagnosed and my new digs was divinely placed 10 blocks down from NYU Langone Hospital — the hospital where the oncologist, Dr. Gerald Rosen, who formulated a recent “cure” for sarcoma resided.
My career was also picking up speed. I landed a Partnership Editor gig at Hearst Digital Media, yet another full spiral moment from my first internship at Cosmopolitan. I was hired as the sole editor to write, edit & optimize commerce content for all 27 digital lifestyle publications.
I was your typical dazed and confidently confused, mid-20 something —my head in the clouds and feet slightly lifted off the ground. I knew I was pushing my body’s physical limits, but what millennial in NYC wasn’t in the concrete jungle? I thought I was living a fairly balanced life — teetering between power-hungry young professional & peak party girl with a side of hungover 6am spin.
It’s painfully clear in hindsight, that I was bursting at the seams with city stimuli sugar-coated in stress. Up until this moment, I received & achieved thanks to my tornado tenacity. I worked hard and if I didn’t get what I wanted, I worked harder — until the red-hot sports car that was my life hit a (sarcoma) speed bump. In a shock, my so-called dream life shattered & my soul was sent airborne, jerked off my all-too familiar path, suspended in a forced pause.
THE DIAGNOSIS
I would have never found the tumor nestled behind my left knee if it wasn’t for my spin practice. I started to spin regularly in college and that routine carried over as a ritual to soothe the overwhelming amount of stress I experienced working in the world of the real life Devil Wears Prada. I was drinking the fashion world from a fire hose.
I had an annoying buzzing like sensation on the bottom of my left foot paired with a shooting pain that cascaded down my calf when I stretched my quad after spin class. I squeezed in a couple of physical therapy appointments into my all-too tight schedule, only to walk out with zero answers and doctors staring at me in utter confusion in my rearview vision.
I had a very acute pain that I knew wasn’t normal and so, I persisted to attune deeper to my physical body & keep asking questions.
One evening, I sat on my bed stretching after spin. I placed my hand under my knee as I pulled my head towards my leg. I felt a small lump, the size of an avocado pit, nested in the center cave below my knee. I pressed on the lump and a lightning bolt of pressure shot down my leg. It wasn’t “pain” per say, but more of a heightened sensation with pins & needles dancing across the bottom of my foot.
As a 24 year old I, of course, quickly dismissed all possible negative outcomes and wrote it off as cyst — because what young, thriving twenty-something gets a serious health hiccup, right?!
I had an annual physical conveniently penciled in for a couple weeks later — a nod to the universe because this was definitely my first physical in years, but this weird pain had me feeling medically mystified & motivated for answers. When I mentioned the bump to my physician, Lauren, she was the first doctor to suggest I get an MRI. A few weeks later, I got the MRI and the nurse later emailed me my results. I vividly remember sitting at my desk immersed in corporate fluorescent lighting as I scrolled through jumbles of medical jargon I didn’t understand. I finally landed on the word “tumor” and halted. I read “99.9% benign,” alongside it. Despite noting “benign” the words “tumor” sent me into a spiral. The peripherals of my vision tripled and I was overcome with nausea. It was the first time I left work early in years.
I had a follow up that week with Lauren. She calmed me down & reassured me again that it’s 99.% benign and I shouldn’t worry. She then referred me to a surgeon as I still wasn’t satisfied.
A couple weeks later, I sat across from a narcissistic surgeon, who told me nonchalantly that I had a “harmless nerve sheath tumor,” and that, “It was okay to keep it in my leg.” This still didn’t sit well in the core of my gut. My mother always taught me to listen to my body so without hesitation, I allowed my deep inner knowing to take the driver's seat. I promptly declined and we scheduled the tumor removal surgery right then and there.
This was one of my first memories of tuning into my intuition.
Flash forward a month later on December 1, 2016. I sat gleefully on painkillers, my leg propped up on a few pillows, typing away, working on my next article for Harper’s Bazaar. I was recovering from the day prior’s tumor removal surgery.
Everything went according to plan and proceeded with a routine biopsy. I remember the surgeon told my mom that the tumor looked “clean.”
In retrospect, I wish I would’ve known to ask for a needle biopsy before the surgery. This would’ve changed the severity of future treatment & surgery.
My phone rang and I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “Another, routine nurse call.”
To my surprise, it was my doctor Lauren. She briefly greeted me and then asked the hair-raising question, “Are you sitting down?” I halted and my fingers curled back from my keyboard.
I blacked out then after.
My memory comes back into blurry focus with hot tears streaming down my flushed cheeks. I genuinely felt my spirit surrender & lift above my body as words like “malignant” and “sarcoma” muddled my mind. Many trauma survivors can recount this similar soul-suspension experience. For me, this acute, decoupled consciousness lasted for about 2 weeks. It felt like time had stopped & I was no longer living in a dream life, but a nightmare.
Although I can’t clearly recall what happened after, I do remember calling my loved ones next. My parents answered the phone on their way home from a vacation in the mountains of Colorado. I cried hysterically, unable to speak, on the line and my Dad instinctively asked if this was about my surgery. I didn’t answer, I couldn’t answer, but I didn’t need to.
Pivotal points of trauma pierce silence, speaking for all when we can’t find the words to say.
PRE-TREATMENT PREP
I had a mere week in between the day of diagnosis and first day of chemotherapy to come to grips with my mortality. I fully honor the hasty action given synovial sarcoma's aggressive nature, but the lack of time & direction post-diagnosis still blows my mind.
You would think there would be a checklist or some hand-holding when you are diagnosed with cancer, but nope! I felt like I was thrown out to sarcoma sea in a damn dinghy boat with an antiquated accordion folder full of insurance papers. If you’re reading this and we’re recently diagnosed, here are some priorities to tackle, based on my personal experience —
Research Insurance & Financial Support — explore GoFundMe if you are looking for additional support
Communicate with your Work & Explore Paid Leave Options
I decided I would do my best to work through treatment rather take a leave of absence. Spoiler alert — this quickly backfired during my first chemo treatment where I found myself crouched over the toilet 90% of the time, riding the porcelain bus while attempting to write a roundup on, “The Most Popular Cookie from Every State” for Good Housekeeping. I will never forget that idiotic article. Needless to say, I retracted my initial decision and told my work I would take a leave of absence for the indefinite future.
Source 2nd/3rd Treatment Opinions & Alternative Options. For synovial sarcoma, I spoke to NYU, MSK, Dana Farber & MD Anderson
Freeze eggs (or at least inquire) — if you’re a young adult female, of course
Create a Treatment Support Plan — Keep a clear & consistent channel of communication with your loved ones. I had a google doc calendar that I sent my community for every round of chemotherapy. My friends & family would then write their name under a certain treatment day to pick up daily shifts. They would take me to and from the hospital as sometimes, I would be too sick to walk & needed the support. I’ve also heard Caring Bridge is a great healing hub to coordinate & plan care.
Contact Look Good, Feel Better — They give recently diagnosed cancer patients a free wig! I started to loose my hair within ~1 week of wrapping my first chemo treatment. A couple weeks after that I shaved my head. Despite me spending thousands of dollars for the Ferrari of wigs at Jacquelyn’s in NYC, a lovely orthodox Jewish shop, I wore my free blonde bob wig from Look Good, Feel Better the most. You can read more about my hair journey (including a hair loss timeline, my faux eyebrow moment, and an epic dance party I had at Bumble & Bumble) here in a story I did with The New York Post.
You can also check out Cooling Caps or DigniCaps which are treatments that help prevent hair loss during chemo. Note, this only works with some chemo treatments. In my case, this wasn’t an option.
I was also swiftly chauffeured through a nerve-wrecking PET scan pre-treatment that would determine my treatment plan and shine light on my fate. This scan would show if the cancer had metastasized. My family flew in right away after I was diagnosed and were by my side for this reveal. For all sensitive meetings, I highly recommend having a friend, family member or loved one with you as an extra set of ears (with a notebook and/or phone recording) as these meetings can often get muddled with emotions. Thankfully, we caught the cancer early and there was no sign of spreading.
This uncertain in-between was one of the toughest times of treatment.
The Diagnosis Timeline:
December 1st - Tumor removed
December 6th - Day of my diagnosis
December 9th - PET scan
December 13th - First day of treatment at NYU Langone
A couple days later I got a PICC line placed in my left arm, an umbilical cord that would connect me to a two-faced, toxic healing hero — chemotherapy. I was out patient, but I would take home a chemo fanny pack who I began to call my toxic boyfriend because “he kept on coming back.”
I would also note that I googled synovial sarcoma only once before I started treatment — & around 4-5 times to date. I stopped researching when I started to read mortality rates. It was in that moment when I closed my computer and vowed that I would surround myself with solely positive energy despite this dark journey I was about to embark on. It was my defense mechanism. It was how I coped.
I was privileged to have had tunnel vision in treatment for four months. Healing was my number one focus and priority. All else fell by the wayside.
FIRST DAY OF CHEMO
I spoke the bare minimum to the fellows at the front desk on my first day of treatment, but they would soon become my friends as we crossed paths daily over the next four months. Stay kind & close to these familiar faces. They act as grounding pillars and golden tickets if you get stuck with any admin errors at the front.
I first met my nurse, Sarah, a sweet soul who I shared the same birthday with, who would be my designated ball and chemo chain for the next four months.
I wouldn’t consider myself spiritual at this point (soul cycle was my church and 1Oak on a Wednesday was my weekly communion), but there were a couple of synchronicities, what my mom calls “universe winks” that I was on the right path. My birthday twin nurse being one of them.
After bloodwork, I was attached to a clear bag of liquid that resembled water, but was in fact the chemo cocktail. I was envisioning a dark, evil-looking elixir, but it looked like our harmless hydrating libation of life. I watched the liquid slowly drip down the tube and into my PICC line. I would later do meditations looking at this liquid dripping, visualizing luminous light flowing into my body cleansing & washing away any dark, dense cancer remnants that remained in my being.
After some small talk, Sarah, who was at an early stage of pregnancy, asked if I froze my eggs. I cocked my head and paused awkwardly. I shook my head in silence. By the look on her face I wanted to rip the cord out of my arm.
Sarah slipped out and I heard her scold my male oncologist about not recommending or at the least, mentioning, egg freezing as a proactive fertility protocol.
There are plenty of cases of sarcoma survivors birthing healthy babies, but reflecting back, I would have without a doubt taken the extra weeks pre-treatment to freeze my eggs.
At 24 years old having children wasn’t top of mind, but at 30, it’s something I think of often.
I did proceed to freeze my eggs once, 6 months after treatment and I'm exploring freezing them again soon.
THE TELL ALL
At a time when social media was slowly taking center stage, I felt the pressure to announce the cancer diagnosis on Facebook & Instagram. I tailored copy and posted a photo of myself, posed in a pixie cut, with a rotary telephone held to my ear. I voiced that my fashion-filled feed was about to take a turn… little did I know that this social media detour would turn into a diehard career path.
Alongside social media, I felt the pressure to ring up my first and second circle of friends to personally tell them about the diagnosis. In NYC, I gathered my closest group of girlfriends and then guy friends separately and told them in two dramatic swoops. Then I crossed off my call list. I recollect spending countless hours stressing about these overly-emotional 1:1 conversations, while grouping friends whenever I could to take the load off.
I look back and console my past self who felt so much pressure to communicate others, to please others, when I hadn’t even communicated clearly with myself.
If I could go back in time, I would tell my past self that there is no right time or right way to tell your friends that you have cancer. Nor do you have to tell everyone! If you do feel called to communicate, gather a group of your nearest & dearest and have a select few tell the others. There’s no need to stage a circus around your cancer experience. Nor do you need to be a hero or social media star when you are simply being called to heal & be here now.
TREATMENT PLAN
Although there are standard treatment plans for certain cancers, everybody is unique and thus every treatment plan is bound to be unique.
For ease of reference, my doctors were:
Dr. Luca Paouluzzi (oncologist, treatment care) at NYU Langone Health, trained under Dr. Gerald Rosen
Dr. John Healey (surgeon) at MSK
Dr. William Tap (oncologist, post care) at MSK
My personal chemo cocktail for synovial sarcoma looked like this —
Chemotherapy, December 2016 - March 2017 (4 months)
3 rounds of Ifasfomide — 8 days on, ~2 weeks off
2 rounds of Doxorubicin (AKA the red devil) — 5 days on, ~2 weeks off
*I was scheduled to have one more round of chemotherapy, but my white blood cell count was too depleted. There was a window of time, the calm before the storm, between after my treatment finished and when I started to feel ill. There was about a week period of time every treatment that I was overcome with overwhelming nausea & exhaustion. Then I had one week of time to pack in any & all of my alternative healing modalities that I could.
*I received blood transfusions regularly and donating blood became an additional way that my friends & family could support me in my healing journey.
Surgery - Tibial nerve removal
For my case, my surgeon deemed it to be more difficult to operate on radiated tissue. Thus, we decided to operate pre-radiation treatment.
I walked into the hospital the day of my surgery, not knowing what the definitive outcome would be. Of course, we had a plan, but I signed a piece of paper stating that whatever happened during surgery, I left it up to the doctors to make an informed decision on the outcome. In other words, I gave him permission to amputate if he thought that would be necessary to save my life.
My surgery was ~8 hours long and it was a truly miraculous limb-saving surgery. I had my entire left tibial nerve removed, which controls the motor function of my foot, but they were able to sever just below the branch that controls my overall movement, negating any “drop foot” where my foot would drag when I walked.
I lost a good amount of feeling on the bottom of my left foot and some on the back of my left calf, but over the years (thanks to continuous stretching, yoga, massage & acupuncture) I have regained some sensation. I have essentially trained my foot to balance by muscle memory.
Radiation - 36 Rounds, daily June-July 2017
At this point in treatment, I was back to work, at the office for half days on radiation treatment days. Naps were commonplace as the fatigue came in waves. I experienced more burning & skin irritation towards the later part of treatment, but it healed rather quickly. The doctors gave me lotion to apply pre treatment to prevent skin discoloration. I applied this lotion generously, I also used this lotion & this spray. I also recommend this balm — actually created by an awe-inspiring sarcoma survivor who sadly passed. I had minor peeling for about 1.5 weeks post treatment. Overall, radiation felt like a piece of cake compared to chemo.
WHAT I BROUGHT WITH ME TO CHEMO
At the start of treatment or on “good days,” going to the hospital for chemo was like going to an adult day care. I brought a backpack with the following essentials to keep me at peace & at play:
Journal & pen — these from Christian Lacroix bring me so much joy
Computer/iPad
Headphones
Pop-open cards — cheesy, but they ended up being a beautiful ritual at the beginning of every day of treatment. Recommended to me by Laura.
Thick cashmere beanie — I did chemo in the winter time, which was great because I could hibernate and wear a ton of beanies over my wigs, which makes them look more real
Healing crystals (see below)
During radiation, I would keep the lotions listed above in my bag and have a good playlist on hand as I was able to connect my iPhone. I also recommend checking out Insight Timer for meditations or listening to healing sound frequencies which can easily be found on Spotify/YouTube/Apple Music.
WHAT I ATE & DRANK
Some patients commit to a plant-based or vegan diets during treatment to support healing, which I wholeheartedly honor & support. However, given the cancer stage (late stage 1) and my personal circumstances, I decided to follow my cravings in order to maintain my weight throughout treatment — I would sometimes lose 5-10 lbs in a week.
I proceeded to indulge in a new-age, hunter-gatherer eating style, trusting my intuition to guide me to my most optimal fuel to fight. I wouldn’t say I ate super healthy, but rather bold & hearty throughout treatment. As my taste weaned (I didn’t experience the metallic taste side effect that some cancer patients do), I ravished robust flavors. To fight nausea, I would eat and then nap through the spins to ensure my food would settle. I would awake and proactively apply citrus or peppermint essential oil to my cupid’s bow. Chemo was like the worst hangover you have ever, had for a week straight.
I waited until after my treatment, post radiation, to clean up my diet. After speaking with a couple nutritionists, mentors, my doctors, & checking in with my own intuition, I went raw vegan for ~4 months. I then began to work 1:1 with Kelly Leveque, holistic nutritionist & wellness expert now famous for her Fab Four smoothies. Kelly supported me in integrating wild salmon and organic eggs back into my diet. Moving forward, I trusted my intuition, paired with various blood tests & nutritionist recommendations, and followed the below plan.
Raw vegan: July-November 2017 (4 months)
Dairy-free with no meat, wild fish & organic eggs: November 2017 - December 2018
Vegan: January 2019-January 2020
Occasional Meat: January 2020-November 2020
Plant-forward, Flexitarian: November 2020 - present
I also cut out alcohol almost completely during treatment & for a few years after. I had maybe 1 cocktail every quarter which was a 180 from the party girl lifestyle I was overindulging in before. I also opted for the cleanest of libations, tequila, when I did succumb to an occasional celebratory cocktail. And it wasn’t until 2021, year 4, that I started to drink wine more regularly. I do drink with intention today, both wine & tequila.
ALTERNATIVE & SPIRITUAL HEALING
I never considered myself deeply spiritual or religious before I was diagnosed. I was raised half Christian, half Jewish and I could count on one hand how many times we traversed to church on Christmas or recited a Jewish prayer — I know about 1/4 of one to date.
It was one very kismet connection, made through my birthday twin nurse, that opened up my eyes to the world of spirituality.
Little did my nurse know that this seemingly small & kind gesture would be such a catalystic connection & pivotal turning point in my healing journey. Not only did Laura become my daily mentor & cancer coach throughout treatment — sending me inspiring Instagram quotes on healing, recommending holistic remedies (adapto..whats?) & connecting me to esoteric energy healers — she most importantly, was someone that I could connect with who understood & could empathize with what outrageous challenges I was fighting. We could be raw & real with each other — a depth of connection I struggled to get to with my friends & family, not because of love but because they simply didn’t understand or couldn’t fathom what I was experiencing physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually etc. Connecting with a fellow survivor as a soundboard was cathartic & awe-inspiring. This communication channel acted as a way for me to prevent compartmentalization of trauma in my own being. Speaking your story & truth can help release negative energy & create more space to receive healing.
So thank you universe for sending me the (sarcoma) sister I never had.
TOOLS & MODALITIES
The first reiki energy healer I ever worked with, Maureen Dodd at Ash Wellness Center (now the The Juhi Ash Center), was also thanks to Laura’s referral.
This vision-inducing hands-on healing session, opened my eyes & mind to a higher realm of existence. It gave me space to talk, to feel & to see my health journey from a birds eye view. I started to ponder why is this happening to me, but for me? In our sessions I would literally feel hundreds of angels surrounding me. I would be immersed in the most gorgeous iridescent healing light. Despite fighting cancer, reiki allowed me to wake up to the ordinary awesomeness of being a cosmic being having a human experience. You can read more about this epic “tripping on light” spiritual tipping point here.
After that first reiki session, crystals became my new eye candy and adaptogenic elixirs we’re my new sober-curious cocktail of choice. I was hooked on holistic healing.
More of the tools, supplements & modalities I used then (and also use today) include:
CRYSTALS
Clear Quartz: master healing crystal
Selenite: ideal for energy cleansing (keep away from water/the bath as it can dissolve)
Rose Quartz: heart-opening love & self-love
Black Tourmaline: protection from tech
ADAPTOGENS
ACUPUNCTURE
Idea for liver cleansing, circulation, pain management, nausea & more
My healer also placed tiny magnets around my scar to support pain management and help further break up scar tissue
VITAMIN C I.V. DRIPS
I did vitamin IV drips in between chemotherapy to help my body bounce back quicker. Note, I was a rebel and this was against my oncologist’s orders, but the decision was supported by my holistic doctor. If you’re in NYC, check out Clean Market or Reviv.
ENERGY HEALING
I personally recommend reiki during cancer treatment as it’s gentle nature washes away negative energetic debris, connects you deeper to your soul-support system & is extremely soul-nourishing.
MEDITATIONS, PODCASTS, AUDIO BOOKS (I rarely journaled or read due to nausea, but rather listened)
Joe Dispenza Meditations
Healing Frequencies - listen while meditating
ESSENTIAL OILS & SCENTS
Lemon, citrus & mint for nausea
Massage on temples (the mint above has a cooling effect as well that soothes headaches) & on cupid’s bow
Lavender for relaxation
Stay away from perfumes during treatment as you don’t want a negative association and ruin some of your favorite scents (thanks Laura)
I kept dryer sheets in my chemo fanny pack as the scent began to trigger nausea (again, thanks Laura)
INFRARED SAUNA’S & LED LIGHT THERAPY
I did infrared saunas regularly throughout treatment to help detox from chemo & radiation. I did these with my PICC line, again against my doctors counsel — rebel.
If you don’t have a sauna nearby, check out this blanket from higher dose
I have medical grade LED light therapy pads, but dpl is a great cost-effective alternative. I used these pads post surgery on my leg to support circulation & nerve healing.
SUPPLEMENTS
HOW I CONTINUE TO HEAL TODAY
I could spiral down (or shall we say up) this ever-evolving portal of healing with you, but I’ll leave you with these final words.
I’m nearly 5 years cancer free right now and I’m still figuring it all out, just like you likely are right now.
Over the years, I have learned to lasso limiting beliefs, nurture my fear, fuel my creativity, love my body, co-create with the universe to manifest my desires, pivot to a conscious career path that fills my cup while serving others & so much more. I feel connected, present, loved grateful & most importantly, healthy.
However, the humbling realization is there is never a full, pure embodiment of being “healed.” There is no Vegas arrival sign. Maybe we feel a tinge of this when we ring the bell on the last day of chemo or when our soul levitates above our body when we decide to leave this planet before embarking on yet another cosmically awesome adventure.
The point is, despite the label of being “cancer-free” at 5 years post-treatment, I still feel like I’m unlocking new levels of healing & learning every day.
The key to embodying healing & living my purest, fullest, highest expression is being present with the ordinary — to rediscover gratitude for the miraculous minutia. During treatment I didn’t always have the energy, immunity or overall ability to cook dinner, to eat dinner, to walk to the deli to pick up flowers, to take the subway or to simply go outside. When I was finally released from my cancer cage into freedom I lived my life through the lens of sensational awe for anything & everything around me. These teeny moments anchor our spiritual beings in our 3D human bodies. We are meant to experience it all.
So take a moment and put your hand to your chest and feel your beating heart. Really feel it. Take a deep belly breath and fill your lungs with fresh, crisp air.
Your body, your life is a vessel of dualities — inhales & exhales, challenges & triumphs, dark & light. For that is the essence of healing & feeling whole.
Don’t defy your diagnosis, your trauma, but revel in your reality. You are given a divine opportunity to wake up & ascend.