What I Wish I Could Tell the Woman Still in the Battle

 What I Wish I Could Tell the Woman Still in the Battle?

I feel like this is one of the most powerful questions I ever get, and honestly, I don’t think most people are ready for the real answer.

Cancer filled me with rage.

The kind that keeps you up at night asking, Why me? What did I do — in this life or the last — to deserve something so horrible?

Am I really that bad of a person?

Am I everything cruel people have ever said I was?

If I could go back to that young girl, I wouldn’t lecture her or try to fix her. I’d just sit with her. Listen. Lay beside her in the quiet.

There’s nothing anyone could do to take away the pain of treatment — nothing. But I’ll tell you this: the battle doesn’t end when chemo stops. If you’re reading this and think the fight is over… you’re dead wrong. The battle changes, but it never really ends.

If I could speak to her, I’d tell her:

You’re right — it does feel like no one cares.

You’re right — it feels impossibly lonely.

And I’m so sorry it hurts like this.

But, baby girl, you will make it through.

You’ll get to watch your son grow. You’ll get married. You’ll buy two cars, and one of them’s a Tesla. (You don’t even know what that is yet, but trust me, you’ll love it.) Conor’s wrestling, doing amazing, and your baby’s going to be just fine. You’ll rebuild an incredible co-parenting relationship with your son’s dad, his wife, and their kids. Life won’t look like what you imagined, but it will still be beautiful.

Rhianna, people will talk. They’ll misunderstand. Some of the people you love most won’t show up for you — not now, maybe not ever. You’ll have hard conversations that never land. And when you choose life-saving treatment, some will tell you you made the wrong choice. But remember, they weren’t there. They didn’t see the scans. They didn’t hear the statistics. They didn’t feel what it meant to fight for your life.

You did.

You were there.

You chose to stay earthside, for your son, for your marriage, for your purpose.

Don’t waste time trying to convince anyone else why. You did what you had to do to live.

I won’t tell you who you’ll marry, but I’ll tell you this: he’ll surprise you in the best possible way. He’ll be kind. Gentle. The most understanding soul you’ve ever known.

I wish I could say that five years later, life goes back to normal, but it doesn’t. It never will. And that’s okay. It’s okay to want new things, to try new things, to dream different dreams than before.

You may not get back everything you once wanted, but you’ll gain something deeper, an entirely new understanding of people, purpose, and grace. Let it change you. Let it move you. Don’t waste your strength fighting every battle. Save it for the ones that truly matter.

I love you, Rhianna, the woman you are, the woman you’re becoming. Not everyone will see it, but the ones who matter will.

Let your light shine.

And don’t let the ones who don’t matter dim it.