And I was dying inside. Not from cancer—though that tried to kill me too. I was dying from the exhausting work of performing wellness while abandoning myself. From smiling through pain because "positive vibes only." From giving everyone else permission to take up space while I made myself smaller and smaller.
Then my body stopped pretending along with me.
Cancer was just the beginning. A broken heart finished what staying disconnected from myself had started. And somewhere in that wreckage, I found the most radical thing: the truth.
The truth that your body has been trying to save you this whole time. That your nervous system's "overreactions" are actually intelligent responses to a world that taught you your feelings were too much. That healing isn't about becoming someone new—it's about remembering who you were before the world told you that wasn't enough.