So this is 29...

Most people fear getting older. After 25, the subsequent birthdays are just a countdown towards gray hair, wrinkles, and death.

But not for me. Today is my birthday, and I'm 29. It's my last year in my 20's, and I'm actually really looking forward to it. For me, life has only gotten better after 25. Yes, you read that right. Life has only gotten better.

Don't get me wrong, I've definitely struggled. I've agonized over the "why me?" of getting breast cancer at 27. I've had my heart broken several times over. I've gone back and forth with my decision to quit grad school. Life hasn't always been easy or kind to me, but I'm at this place now where I am immensely happy. I know I've typed this before, but I wake up every single day with a smile on my face, grateful to be alive. Every single day is something new and amazing, and I'm so incredibly thankful to be able to experience whatever life has in store for me.

27 was supposed to be my golden year. I thought everything was falling into place. I had several interviews lined up for the job I wanted in a tough field. I was madly in love with someone who I thought I was going to have a future with. I was making every effort to live a positive lifestyle, and be grateful. Then I found a lump, and got diagnosed. I feel like life dealt me the shittiest card, and from there it was a domino effect. I held onto that positive outlook for as long as I could throughout treatment, but it was hard. My doctors and nurses were all impressed with me, because I was determined that this was only one chapter of my story. I refused to let it define me. I refused to think that my life was over, even though, some days, that thought admittedly did slip through the cracks. I lost that person I loved. Or rather, he abandoned me. In a time where I needed someone to step up to the plate, he threw in the towel. I did eventually get the job I had worked so hard towards, but it was incredibly difficult working and going through treatment.

28 got better. It started with me joining CrossFit WIT and getting my health back on track. I got my ass handed to me for that first workout, and then I kept showing up for more. I lost 10 pounds of my chemo weight, I finished radiation, I finished my herceptin infusions, and got my portacath removed. I started to use my story to advocate for young women with breast cancer. I won a contest with the Young Survival Coalition and a video of mine was highlighted. I won a local essay contest for Bay Area Cancer Connections in which the essay I wrote was published in their newsletter. A picture of mine has been highlighted on breastcancer.org, and also by Barbells for Boobs. Breast cancer helped me find my voice. It has helped me try to do some good in this shitty situation, and I've had people from all over the world reach out to me about my experience.

This year, I've also had the opportunity to travel more than I ever have before. I went to Atlanta in March for the YSC conference, then Disneyland in April, then Maui for a cancer retreat. I'm heading back to Atlanta this weekend, and then the biggest trip of the year is Costa Rica in September!

I look back at all this and I realize that without my struggles, I wouldn't have stumbled across my strengths. I am so proud of the person I've become. I look in the mirror and I'm happy with the reflection. Every single day is a gift, and I plan on savoring and appreciating each moment. 29 is going to be the best year yet. I can feel it.

Life after Radiation

Radiation wrapped up last Friday, and I couldn't have had a bigger smile on my face handing over that shitty paper vest and walking out the doors for the final time. I bought myself a red velvet bundt cake from Nothing Bundt Cakes, then went home and slept for pretty much the rest of the afternoon. I haven't been able to take a nap since treatment started - fatigue and insomnia have been my biggest foes throughout this process, so being able to just veg out for the rest of the day was great.

I had a good weekend, too. Saturday night, I went to dinner and spent time with Paulina. And then Sunday, my friend Chris and I made use of my christmas presents he and Becky gave me last year and went to the shooting range. I'd been asking to go for a while, and we finally had time. It was both nerve-wracking and fun! Shooting is much harder than it looks, and I need more practice to work on my aim. Luckily, Chris is a patient teacher. Then we had dinner with Becky and spent the evening watching American Pie. Which, by the way, came out in 1999, and people who were born the year that movie came out can now drive. WHAT THE HECK?! Where has time gone? If that doesn't make you feel old, I don't know what does.

But then Monday came around, and I felt incredibly lost not having to get ready for a mid-day trip to the radiation center. I had to force myself to get out of the house and just go somewhere for a little while, so as not to get too wrapped up in the panic about what's next as far as treatment is concerned.

Yesterday, Teresa and I spent the day at the Monterey Aquarium, and had a good time. I started to realize earlier today that I was feeling a sense of calm and peace for the first time probably since before diagnosis. I felt light and free and content. The word fluffy came to mind for whatever reason. It has been an incredibly long time since I've felt this way, and I honestly didn't really know if I'd ever get to feel like this again. Some people might brush that off, saying that this is only temporary, and while that's true, I have a say in how I let it effect my outlook on the future. And I really didn't know if I'd be happy again. The last time I was truly happy, something bad happened (uh, cancer), so in my mind, those two things are mutually exclusive, even though they shouldn't be.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of things I'd like to change about my life and make different, but I'm happy. I can finally accept people's commendations, and agree with them. I am strong. And I am proud of myself. I look back, and see how far I've come, and I'm amazed. In December, surgery followed by 18 weeks of chemotherapy seemed like a life time, and tomorrow is my birthday and I think, where has all the time gone? All of these treatments already seem like a distant memory.

A week ago, if you'd asked me if I was excited about my birthday, I would've told you no. In fact, when Becky asked me that very question last Thursday, and my answer was "No, because I'm afraid I'll never be as happy as I was when it was my birthday last year again." She responded by slapping my arm and telling me to snap out of it. But that was my thought process. Today, I'm not necessarily excited for my birthday tomorrow, but I'm accepting of it. There's going to be anxiety and fear laced in with survivorship, but at least I'm alive, able to celebrate another birthday. For that I'm grateful. If that's the silver lining to putting myself through all this treatment, then I'll take it.

I'm not done living.