I found a lump…

First, let me tell you reassure you that I’m gonna be fine. There’s no need to worry. I’m ok. I can feel it.

I debated whether or not to write or even share about this as I hate being an alarmist and don’t want to worry people for no reason – and yet – I share everything (*well, almost everything) in my life.

This experience has been a huge eye-opener for me and for many of you women reading this now; I know we’ve all had similar scares like this. No woman is immune. So, in an attempt at solidarity and comfort, I decided to share.

I found a lump in my right breast over the summer. I thought I had pulled a muscle. It was really irritating, but to be honest, outside of just being annoying, I didn’t give it a second thought.

I’ve always had very dense/lumpy breasts and, in fact, had two small lumps removed from this same spot when I graduated college some 20-plus years ago (hard to imagine I’m that old, I know, but I am). So, this did not feel “new” to me.

After waiting a few months to talk with my doctor (trying to convince myself it’s “nothing”), I finally went in to see her. We both agreed that we’d feel better if I had a diagnostic ultrasound, so I am – today.

In my gut, I trust that it’s nothing. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m naive. I know the odds of developing breast cancer are horrific for women in this county—1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer in their lifetime.

And yet… something in my gut tells me I’m gonna be ok.

I sometimes think God forgot to give me the “worry” gene. I tend to feel oddly strong/confident about certain things – moving across the country on a whim, lumps in my breast, and starting podcasts. It’s the small things, like talking to other parents at school pick-up, that scare the shit out of me.

Even though my gut is telling me that I’m going to walk out of that office today with good news, that everything is “normal.” What’s really weighing on me – what I can’t help but shake – is all the women who didn’t (or won’t) get that same news.

And my heart is aching for them. There are far too many of them. Too many I know personally. Who’s kids I’ve babysat. Women I’ve made meals for. Who I practice yoga with. Who are my friends, neighbors, school friends – maybe even you reading this now. And it just doesn’t seem fair.

So, in some small way, I feel I owe it to them. To the ones who weren’t as quote-unquote as “lucky.” To not take this “good news” for granted and to go out and LIVE.

Maybe this “lump” (or whatever it is) isn’t a lifelong diagnosis, but rather an eye opener of what could have been – and of what I still have. My life.

A really big, amazing, wonderfully full, incredible life.

But for years, I spent far too much time wasting it on stuff that doesn’t actually matter. And I think I’m done.

Life is so big and beautiful, and yet we miss so damn much of it – worrying about what might happen next or ruminating over what happened yesterday (or, for some of us, a decade ago)—forgetting that THIS moment right here, right now, is it.

You sitting here, right now, reading this – THIS IS YOUR LIFE. And if you’re not careful, you could spend a lot of it behind a screen, holding grudges, talking about how people have wronged you, worrying about your weight, your marriage, your sister-in-law who you think is mad at you, or your kids. Daydreaming about that thing you’re gonna do “one day.” Forgetting that today IS THAT DAY.

Or you could step out of the constant spinning of your mind and look around you at all the beauty (and pain) and abundance around you.

In my 45 years here, I’ve learned virtually nothing about life – except one thing. NO ONE GETS OUT OF THIS THING ALIVE.

That’s the thing about life. Is it’s gonna end. For some of us sooner than others. And we have NO CONTROL OVER ANY OF IT.

So you can choose to either go LIVE it, or sit here and “think” about it.

I’m choosing to live.

Life may not be perfect, and the world feels like a dumpster fire right now, and many of us have struggles that feel insurmountable and, quite frankly, just aren’t fair. I know. I see it. There is evidence everywhere you look that life is hard and suffering abounds.

And yet, and yet…

I still believe we can all choose to step into the present moment, and for a moment feel a connection and wonder to something bigger than ourselves and feel ALIVE. In this very moment.

Am I worried about today? maybe. A little, I guess, if I’m being honest. But one thing I’m not is regretful. I have zero regrets.

I’m living it all, today, as if it may be my last. Because one day, it will be.

And I don’t want to wait for a cancer diagnosis to see that, and to appreciate it.

• I stopped drinking – so I don’t waste another day with my kids hungover.
• I moved to the beach – so I don’t miss another sunset on the ocean.
• I get up early to meditate and walk – so I never miss seeing the colors of the rising sun and appreciate the feel of my breath moving in and out of my body.
• I prioritized my kids over our social calendar – so I don’t miss a minute witnessing them grow up.
• I started a podcast – so I could see “what’s possible” for myself and share women’s stories.

And yet…I still have work to do. I still have moments I get caught up in my head worrying, analyzing, controlling. But those moments are fewer and farther than ever before. Progress.

I don’t have any beautiful way to wrap this up. There is no putting a bow on it. I know I still have a lot of living on this earth to still do, AND I know I don’t have the capacity to appreciate or witness it all. I guess that’s just the beauty and curse of the human experience. There is so much we’ll miss, never see, never appreciate. Sunsets we’ll never see. Music we’ll never hear. People we’ll never meet.

So, for today, my work is appreciating what I can. Living in the moment wherever I can and letting go of attachment and control over all of it. Including, however today goes (as she holds her breath writing this).

Thanks for listening to me vent, kids. Off to my appointment.

Here’s to LIVING.

xoxo

***update – ALL. CLEAR! Relieved. Happy. Grateful