Few things are as humbling as being forced to read your old blog posts. Yet, that’s what I’ve been doing over the past couple of days in preparation for the launch of my redesigned website. At first I was like — delete them all! They are old and irrelevant. They don’t represent the person I am today. But as I read my old blog posts, I began to see the value in keeping them.
Why keep them?
Because I think it’s important to see how I have changed and evolved as a writer. But more importantly, to see how I have evolved as a person. To take a deeper dive into the things that have shaped me. To hold on to that younger version of myself, without discounting her voice. To remember how it felt to be bulletproof. That feeling that nothing bad would ever happen. And the naivety of that statement. The innocence that permeated every aspect of my life. The carefree attitude. But now, some of the things that were once so important to me are like distant memories. I had misplaced priorities. I was ambitious almost to a fault. Almost to the exclusion of everything else. And often the drive in me didn’t exactly move me in the right direction. And I see that now as I look back. I have the benefit of those older posts to reflect and remember.
What changed?
Damn near everything changed. Some were forced changes, while others were by choice. The shift began in 2019 when I lost my mom. This was followed by my breast cancer diagnosis in 2021. Losing my mom changed who I was overnight. It’s hard to explain it, but for me, there was just before and after. The day I lost her, I lost a big piece of myself. Much more than my heart was broken. And I had to figure out how to take those broken pieces and put myself back together again. But guess what? A lot of the old pieces didn’t fit together anymore. They didn’t fit ME anymore. So I made some radical changes, namely around my lifestyle. Alcohol was the first thing to go. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, so this one was easy. Around the same time, I began to focus on my fitness routine, or the total lack thereof. So, I bought a Peloton bike. And cycling soon became a meditative practice for helping me through my grief. It was also my gateway drug into a robust exercise routine. I won’t bore you will all the details here, but suffice it to say that I became a workout machine. (It is all documented in my book, Cancer Don’t Care). And I was eating right and maintaining a healthy weight. It was a real transformative journey, and I was feeling (and looking) better than I had in over a decade. Then boom! Breast cancer. And just like that, my world came crashing down again. It would have been real easy to just give in and give up. I did neither.
Fighting my way through
Having lost my mom and the ensuing grief that followed had already challenged everything I believed in — love, faith, and family. And I was forced to tap into my inner strength in ways I had never imagined. My resolve was unwavering. And my body was prepared for the fight. That must have been what all that working out was all about. There are no coincidences! So, I fought my way through. There was no other choice. I did whatever it took. And I did it with an attitude of positivity, and I demanded the same of those around me. Zero negativity! And through the grace of God, I was triumphant!
Who am I today?
That was almost 3 years ago. And yes, while I am a breast cancer survivor, that will never be what defines me. My life is so much more than that. I am so much more than that. So, who am I today? That’s a good question. I’m still figuring it all out. But one thing is for sure, I have come out the other side stronger, more resilient, more hopeful, and more faithful. I have eliminated the negative things and people who no longer serve me. I am calmer — less riddled with stress and anxiety. I am uber focused on my health — what I eat and how much I move my body. I am now more intentional with my time. I spend it as selfishly as needed to accomplish my daily and weekly non-negotiables — working out, writing, reading, sleeping, spending time with my daughter Kendall and her 3 boys. Life’s too short. We only have this moment. This one. So, priorities are critical. And they have to align with who you are today, and who and what really matters today. But at the same time, it’s OK to look back. To see who you were and where you’ve been. To see the changes. To embrace them. And to enjoy the journey.