🌊My Journey Back to Life: Healing, Hope, and the Slow Return to Myself

When I look back on my path to wellness, it still feels surreal—like remembering a life I lived underwater, where everything was heavy, slow, and muted, yet every moment carried a powerful clarity. Healing changes you. It turns life into something you feel more deeply, even the quiet moments. Especially the quiet moments.

My journey began the day a tumor was found on my spine—an intruder silently stealing my mobility and my strength. The surgery to remove it left me unable to walk. When the biopsy revealed it was Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma, I found myself staring into a reality I never expected to face. Suddenly, I wasn’t just healing from spinal surgery—I was preparing for war.

And not just any war, but one fought with two of the harshest treatments available:
R-CHOP chemotherapy and High-Dose Methotrexate.

The kind of treatments that take your hair, your energy, your appetite, your breath, your sense of control… but somehow leave your soul more awake than ever.

🌿Relearning How to Walk, One Breath at a Time

My healing wasn’t dramatic or fast. There were no movie moments of triumphant music or instant progress. It was slow… painfully slow.
Some days, simply lifting an ankle felt like summiting a mountain.

And that’s where yoga found me.

Not the flexible, flowing kind I once imagined. Not headstands or sun salutations or elegant poses.
But the basics—the absolute basics.

Breathing into my belly.
Moving my toes.
Gripping air with my fingers to reawaken nerve pathways.
Sitting up with support.
Shifting weight into my feet.
Standing still without falling.

These tiny, intentional movements became my lifeline. Yoga wasn’t exercise—it was hope stitched into the body. It was the quiet reminder: You’re still here. Keep going.

And step by step, breath by breath, I did.

🌿Chemotherapy and the Medicine of Nature

Chemotherapy took its toll—waves of nausea, fatigue that hollowed out my bones, days where my body felt like glass. But alongside the medical treatments, I embraced the gentle medicines nature has always offered us.

• Lemon and ginger tea to settle my stomach

• Elderberry for immune support

• Fresh tangerine tea for Vitamin C, comfort, and warmth

• Herbal blends that soothed my nerves, my spirit, and my sense of connection to something bigger than my pain

Nothing cured the cancer except the chemo—but these small rituals supported me in ways modern medicine couldn’t. They gave me comfort. They gave my body nourishment when food felt impossible. And they gave me something to look forward to on even the hardest days.

🌿The Power of a Positive Outlook (Even When It Isn’t Easy)

I’m not going to pretend I was positive every moment. You can’t battle cancer and pretend everything is sunshine. But what I did do—what saved me—was hold onto the belief that:

• Life still had beauty for me

• My story didn’t end here

• My body wasn’t done fighting

• There was a reason to keep trying

• Hope is its own kind of medicine

I learned that you don’t have to be endlessly positive to survive—you just can’t give up.

Even on the darkest days, there was always a small spark inside whispering:
Not yet. Keep going.

🌿Finding Purpose Through Pain

Surviving cancer and reclaiming my mobility didn’t just heal my body—it awakened my soul.

It led me to yoga in a deeper way.
It led me to spiritual growth and purpose.
It led me to build a life where I help others find strength in their own storms.

My journey wasn’t easy. It was grueling, terrifying, exhausting… but it was also sacred. Because it taught me that:

• The human body is stronger than we think.

• The human spirit is unbreakable.

• Healing is not linear but always possible.

• Even suffering can open the door to a more meaningful future.

🌿If You Are Facing Your Own Health Battle…

This is what I want you to know:

You can get through this.
You can rise again.
You can rebuild your life one breath at a time.
You don’t have to be fearless—you just have to stay willing.

Your healing might be slow. Your path might not look like mine. But hope is real. Healing is real. And your future can still hold beauty, connection, and joy.

You are not alone.
You are not broken.
And you are so much stronger than you realize.