When people told me survivorship is harder than treatment, I’m sure I laughed in their face. How could anything be harder than watching all your hair fall out, losing 15 pounds in a matter of days from chemo side effects, feeling like your skin was being burned off from radiation, enduring multiple surgeries, and somehow still waking up each day to do it all over again?
But over the past six months, I finally feel like I’ve emerged from the hardest parts of survivorship. For me, that breaking point came around three years post-treatment. And now, I understand what they meant.
It’s seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, crawling toward it, only to realize that once you get there, the light is still a million feet away, at the top of a cavern you now have to climb.
It’s learning that there is no “getting back to normal,” only getting thrown into a “new normal” that you never asked for and certainly didn’t sign up for. The life you thought you’d return to doesn’t exist anymore, and now you’re left figuring out how to build something new from the ground up.
It’s watching your friends’ careers take off while you’re just grateful to get through a workday without a nap (you can stop any day now, cancer fatigue!).
It’s moving to the perfect neighborhood to raise your future kids, only to get matched with four different surrogates and go through multiple failed transfers (did I mention I can’t get pregnant on my medicine that is preventing my cancer recurrence?).
It’s being in the hospital at the same time as your friends, but they’re welcoming babies, and you’re fighting some rogue genes that decided to mutate.
It’s dealing with the long-term side effects—some physical, some invisible, all exhausting.
But survivorship is also rediscovering yourself in ways you never expected.
It’s traveling more, not just because you love it, but because you refuse to put things off anymore.
It’s reconnecting with old friends, making new ones, and realizing that some people were meant to walk into your life after cancer, not before.
It’s moving across the country to a place where you don’t know a soul, something you never would have done before. But now? Now, you know life is too short to play it safe, and choosing adventure always feels right.
It’s starting a new tradition of annual mother-daughter trips, not because you need an excuse to travel, but because you know how precious these moments are.
It’s adopting your soul dog and having the best time raising her.
It’s showing up for your friends and family—celebrating their milestones, being there in the quiet moments—because you know how much it means to feel seen, to feel loved.
It’s encouraging your husband to build his side business while you build yours, because pursuing what excites you suddenly feels non-negotiable.
It’s watching your friends and sister become parents, and completely falling in love with being an aunt.
It’s finding comfort in the small things—books, tea, slow weekends, and a cozy home.
Healing is a marathon, not a sprint. And no one gives you a training plan for this part. It’s hard to explain or imagine until you’re in it, staring at a version of yourself you don’t recognize.
Here’s what I do know: You will pass that finish line. It may take longer than you expected. It may look different than you imagined. But one day, you’ll look up and realize you made it—you survived not just cancer, but everything that came after. And when you do, you’ll be stronger, more confident, and happier than you ever thought possible.
Are you a cancer survivor interested in telling your story, sharing advice or lessons learned during your cancer journey?
We believe everyone’s story is unique, but there’s a powerful connection between anyone who’s faced cancer. By sharing your story, you can inspire and give hope to others who are going through similar struggles.
Please contact Kelly Wooley, Marketing and Communications Manager, if you’re interested. We would love to hear from you!