A love letter

Dear Whitney,

I know that you are hurting right now, and that is completely okay and understandable. Anyone in your position would feel run down, broken, defeated, isolated, and afraid. No one blames you for your emotions - they are all completely valid. Don't let anyone deny you of your pain.

Life has rarely been kind to you, and these last 7 months have been especially rough - the hardest thing you've ever had to endure. No one should have to experience cancer, let alone in their 20's, when life should be about finding your place in the world. It should be filled with nights out with friends, drinking and dancing at the bar, lazy sun-filled days at the beach, reckless romances and passionate kisses, and adventures in far off places that require a stamp in your passport. Instead, your time has been spent at consultations, doctor's appointments, spending countless hours on the computer doing research, surgeries, lab tests, chemotherapy, now radiation, and an endless amount of tears. It's almost as if you could have ended California's drought with the amount of tears you've cried since December. This was supposed to be your golden year, and it's become tarnished, its joy and beauty tampered with by cancer.

But you should know something. You are incredibly brave, and even though I know you almost never feel like it, you are so strong. Think of all of the people you've impressed and inspired that you've met along the way - your surgeon, the breast care navigator, the geneticist, and so many others - your positive attitude and outlook has inspired so many people. I know right now you don't feel positive, and you've been struggling lately with the ability to see life beyond cancer, but it's there. Your attitude since day one is likely what has helped you handle the side effects of chemo with such ease, even though it never felt that way, what with having tissue stuck up your nose to stop what felt like constant nose bleeds, or running to the bathroom because you can never trust a fart. Sometimes ending up with tissue in your nose and your butt simultaneously (now that was probably an interesting sight).

And even though you don't feel or see it, you are so incredibly beautiful. Whether or not you have hair, or no eyebrows, your body is riddled with new scars, or you feel bionic because of Penny (your portacath) or you've gained 20 pounds from chemo. Your body has become a roadmap of your cancer experience, but it's something to be proud of, even though I know how hard it's been to accept every new attack on your skin. Your outward appearance only makes up a small fraction of your beauty. It's things like your ability to laugh when corn is coming out of your butt, or to think of others and ask them how they're doing when you're going through your own hell, having manners, hopelessly believing in love, or smiling at strangers just because you want to brighten their day, that all contribute to your beauty as a person. Those things, and so many others, make you so much more attractive than just your reflection.You've often been told by former lovers, and even friends, that you don't see yourself very clearly. And though I know it's going to be a struggle, you should start trying to see in yourself what they all see in you. You are so much more than your eyebrows.

I know that you feel lost and like a failure, and that you desperately want to find your place in this world. Be patient. You'll figure it out, in due time.

I can't promise you that things will get better or easier, because I don't know what will happen in the future. There will still be days where you don't want to get out of bed because it hurts too much to deal with all of your emotions. There will be days where you can't stop crying. There will be days filled with anger at the world for not giving you the answers that you want. However, what I can promise you, is that there is something beautiful in every day, so long as you're willing to open your eyes. Find the silver linings in your life, and be grateful as much as possible.

Lastly, I am so proud of you. I'm proud of you for taking charge of your health, for overcoming your fears and opening up to people about what you're experiencing,  and for being honest with yourself with what you need and when. You are an amazing woman who has handled every obstacle life has thrown at you with grace. Yesterday, you sat in the same spot in which you sat over 7 months ago awaiting surgery to have your tumor removed. Then, it felt like you wouldn't make it through every treatment that was ahead of you. And now? Look how far you've come!

There is still a long road ahead. Be gentle with yourself. Love yourself. Believe in your own beauty. I'm here with you every step of the way, holding your hand.

Love,
Whitney