Dear Me

Dear Me,

So… it’s October.

And somehow, October feels different this year.

Usually, I would see it as another month of work, coffee, little plans, family, getting my nails done, fixing my hair, slowing down and doing the things I love crafting, creating, and all the other artsy stuff that makes me, me.

But this October, I look at it differently.
It is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
And I am not just looking at the pink ribbons from the outside anymore.

I am now part of the story.

That still feels strange to write.

‘’I have breast cancer.’’

There. I said it.
Not because I want cancer to define me, but because I refuse to pretend it isn't happening.
The treatment has been planned.

It is really coming.
And honestly?
I'm scared.
Of course I am. Who wouldn't be scared after hearing the word "cancer"?

But somewhere along the way, I have also learned to embrace this reality. Not as a death sentence, but as a very loud reminder to become more aware of myself, of my body, my life, and what truly matters.

Because I think about the woman I have been all these years.
The one who takes care of everyone.
Who adjusts.
Who understands, even when things don't make sense.
Who apologises even when she did nothing wrong.
Who gives and says, "It's okay, I'll manage."

And perhaps this sickness is teaching me something I should have learned long ago:

I matter, too.

My body has carried me through grief, motherhood, marriage, work, moving countries, difficult seasons, loss, fear and now cancer.

Maybe I don't need to fight my body.

Maybe I need to stand beside it.

To look at it with tenderness and say,

"I'm sorry I haven't always been kind to you."

"Thank you for carrying me this far."

Loving myself now doesn't mean pretending everything is beautiful.

It means loving myself even here.

Through the hospital appointments, the needles, the treatments, the changes in my body, the days when I don't feel pretty, and the days when I simply want to cry.

I can still love myself there.

And perhaps this is why October feels so personal to me now.

Before this, I knew October as the month of pink ribbons.

Now, I know what those ribbons are supposed to remind us of.

They remind me of the woman who might be sitting at home wondering whether that lump is something she should have checked.

The woman who keeps postponing her appointment because there are children to look after, work to finish, a husband to care for, a family that needs her.

The woman who may be telling herself, "It's probably nothing."

I understand her now.

Because I am one of those women.

And if my story can reach even one woman, then I want to say this from one woman to another:

Please don't wait until your body forces you to listen.

Know your body.
Get checked.
Pay attention to the changes.
Ask questions.
And please remember that you are part of your own life, too.
You don't have to wait until everyone else is okay before you take care of yourself.
This is what breast cancer awareness means to me now.
It isn't just about wearing pink.
It is about looking at ourselves with enough love to say,

"My health matters."
"My body matters."
"I matter."

And maybe this October, I don't need to say much more.
Because I am learning it myself.

I want to live. Really live.

I want more coffee talks with people I love.
Witness the beautiful mornings and sunsets.

More painting.
More dancing.
More travelling.
More people-watching.
More laughter.

I want to watch my children grow.
I want to grow old and see the wrinkles on my face as proof that I have lived.
I want to discover what else God has written into my story.
I don't know what the treatments will feel like.
I don't know how my body will respond.
I don't know what the next few months will bring.
But I know this:

I am still here.

And for today, that is enough.
So, dear me…
Don't forget the woman who is fighting.
Be gentle with her.

Let her cry.
Let her laugh.
Let her be scared.
Let her be silly.
Let her be feminine.
Let her rest.
Let her hope.

She doesn't have to be strong every day.
She just has to keep showing up.
Maybe this is my new kind of awareness.

Not simply:

"I have cancer.’’

But:

"I am aware that I am alive."

And after all these years of giving so much of myself away, maybe it is finally time to give some of that love back to the woman in the mirror.

Me.

The woman still here.
The woman still becoming.
The woman who is scared, but walking anyway.
The woman who doesn't know what tomorrow holds, but still wakes up and says,

"Okay, God. Let's do today.’’

Because maybe there is still so much life ahead.

So much love.
So much faith.
So much more to become.

And this time,

I am taking myself with me.

If this October means anything to me, it is this:

Don't wait to love yourself.
Don't wait to care for yourself.
Don't wait to choose yourself.

Because I am learning, perhaps a little later than I should have, that taking care of everyone else should never mean forgetting the woman who is also worth saving.

And maybe that is the pink I want to wear this October.
Not just for breast cancer.
But for me.
For the woman still here.

And if you are standing beside women like me, women fighting, women healing, women waiting for their next appointment, women learning to live through a diagnosis....

leave a pink 🩷 in the comments.

Not just for me.

For every woman who needs to know that she is not walking through this alone.

🩷

Xo,
Ai

Lord, have I done enough?

 “You too go into my vineyard.

To work in the Lord's vineyard.”

— Matthew 20:1–16

A very close friend of mine, now a priest serving in Canada, often sends me his Sunday Gospel reflection. It helps me a lot now during my Sunday prayer meditation.

I feel fortunate to be surrounded by people who not only pray along with me, but also remind me that God speaks through the Bible.

Sometimes, I wonder if I am really listening.

This morning, while doing my meditation, one thought from today's Gospel stayed with me:

“To work in the Lord’s vineyard.”

That phrase somehow touched a question I have been carrying quietly in my heart.

Lord, have I given enough?

Have I served You enough? followed you enough? Or being true to YOU enough?

I know I am not perfect, far from it.

I have made mistakes. I have questioned You. I have been impatient. I have complained. There were moments when my faith was strong, and there were moments when I was simply trying to hold on.

But I have tried.

I have tried to serve You in my own little ways: to love people more even if they're unlovable, to be more forgiving, to be faithful and to live my life as a witness of what I believe.

And now, here I am.

In this season of my life that I never expected.

With cancer.

And somewhere in the middle of all this, a question comes that perhaps I am still learning how to bring honestly before God:

“Lord, was I not enough?”

Was everything I gave still not enough?

And then another question, even harder to say:

“Did I deserve this sickness?”

I don't have an answer.

Maybe I never will.

But today's Gospel made me think that perhaps I have been looking at my relationship with God like a calculation.

I did this. I served here. I prayed. I tried to be good. So why is this happening to me?

As if God's love were something I could earn.

But perhaps the vineyard doesn't work that way.

Maybe God never asked me to earn my place.

Maybe He simply asked me to come and work alongside Him, with whatever I have, for however long I am able.

And perhaps my vineyard looks different now.

Maybe it is not about doing more.

Maybe, for this season, it is about being faithful in a different way.

To wake up and say thank You, even when I am afraid.

To face another medical appointment.

To endure another needle.

To accept help.

To pray when I have questions.

To choose hope when the road ahead is blurry.

To continue loving.

To continue believing.

And to continue simply being me.

Perhaps this is also working in His vineyard.

I don't know why God allowed this chapter in my story.

But I am slowly learning that I don't have to understand everything to remain close to Him.

And maybe the question I should be asking is no longer,

“Lord, have I done enough?”

but simply,

“Lord, what do You want me to do with the day You have given me?”

Today, I am still here.

Still alive.

Still praying.

Still questioning.

Still trying.

Still believing.

Still working in His vineyard, in whatever way He asks of me.

And perhaps, for today,

that is enough. 🙏🏻

Blessed Sunday everyone!

xo,

Ai 

What Does Your Heart Need Today?

It is mid-week, and we are already on the first stretch of September. Wow. How time flies so fast.

Today, I’d like to pause for a moment and assess my feelings.
I feel good today.
I woke up with worship and prayers in my heart, and somehow, after spending that quiet time with God, I felt so much better.

It has become quite usual now that I wake up way before my alarm clock even gets the chance to strike. Well, blame my overthinking mind or whatever it is that keeps calling me awake earlier than usual. No matter how tired I am, no matter how much fatigue seems to overpower me, I am wide awake as early as 4 a.m.

Anyhow, it is mid-week as I write this. It is still very summery here in Poland. The sun is shining so brightly, and it is warm...almost 30°C. yay!

And here I am, busy at work.

Business as usual.

Funny enough, work has become a kind of safe space for me lately. Maybe because no one talks about my sickness. No one thinks about it because, simply, no one knows.
Except my counselor, my supervisor.
And honestly, I think I would rather keep it that way for now.

Only a few people know the real story and the full details of what I am going through. I am still really sick. I am still waiting for the final verdict or perhaps a better word would be, the treatment plan.

An MRI is scheduled in two weeks.

Another test.
Another blood test.
Another needle.
Another pain to endure.

You probably know by now that I have a very low tolerance for needles. I am afraid of them. But somehow, along this journey, I have slowly learned to befriend them.

Well… what can I do now? 😂

Sometimes life puts us in situations we never imagined we would have to face.

And somehow, we learn to face them anyway.

Today, I am inspired by this beautiful verse:

“The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart.”

- Psalm 34:18

And today's thought is this:

Not every day will make us feel strong, positive, productive, or motivated.

And that is okay.

It is okay if you are not okay.

Some days, we just want to cry out loud.

Some days, we want to be lazy and do absolutely nothing.

Some days, our bodies simply ask us to rest.

And some days, all we can do is shout to God in prayer:

“God, I need You so badly today.”

All of these feelings are valid.

A hard day doesn't mean you are going backward.

Feeling tired doesn't mean you are weak.

Needing rest doesn't mean you are giving up.

Sometimes, resting is part of moving forward.

Tomorrow is another opportunity to begin again.

Because feelings are fleeting. They come, they stay for a while, and eventually, they pass.

So today, I want to ask myself, and perhaps ask yourself too:

What does your heart need most today?

Is it rest?

Prayer?

Encouragement?

A good cry?

Someone to simply listen?

Or perhaps… just a little grace?

Whatever it is, give yourself permission to need it.

And if today is a difficult day, remember:

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.

You don't have to have everything figured out today.

Just breathe.

Just pray.

Just take today as it comes.

Tomorrow can take care of itself.

things will be alright. In time.

like the lyrics of the song Leaves by Ben and Ben:

Leaves will soon grow from the bareness of trees

And all will be alright in time

From waves overgrown come the calmest of seas

And all will be alright in time

Wounds of the past will eventually heal

And all will be alright in time

'Cause all of this comes with a love that is real

I said all will be alright in time.....

XO,

Aileen

A Thousand Apologies to Myself

A thousand apologies to myself.

For not knowing what was coming.

For being too kind sometimes.
For giving away more of myself than I ever gave to myself.

For saying yes to others, even when my own heart was saying no.

For agreeing even when it was against my will, just to avoid a problem, an argument, or the possibility of disappointing someone.

For always choosing peace for everyone else, even when it meant losing a little peace within me.

For thinking I had to keep understanding everyone, even when no one was trying to understand me.

For giving chances.
For forgiving.
For staying.
For hoping.

And maybe I don't regret being kind.

I just wish I had remembered that I deserved the same kindness I so freely gave to everyone else.

I didn't know what was coming.

I didn't know that life would bring me here.

To this chapter of uncertainty, reflection, and a diagnosis I never imagined for myself.

“You have cancer.”

And somehow, those words made me look back at my life differently.

At the things I tolerated.
The things I allowed.
The things I kept putting aside.

Especially myself.

Maybe this is not about regretting who I was.

Maybe it's about finally learning to take care of her.

The woman who kept giving.

The woman who kept saying yes.

The woman who kept trying to make everything okay.

She deserves to be chosen too.

And this time...

I choose her.

I choose me. 

xo,

Ai

Cancer

There are moments in life when a single sentence changes the way you look at everything.

For me, it was hearing…

“You have cancer.”

I still get a little choked up every time those words come back to me.

Every time I remember that day...that Tuesday morning.

That moment.
Those words.

It feels like my heart still needs a little more time to catch up with what my mind has already heard.

Even now, saying it out loud feels strange.

Cancer.

Even writing that word still feels strange.

I was shocked. Surprised. Confused. And honestly, there is still a part of me hoping that somehow, somewhere, there has been a mistake.

Because how can I have cancer?

I feel okay. I look so okay.

I am still laughing.
Still talking.
Still making plans.
Still asking my endless “what ifs.”
Still being me.

So how?

Why?

And why is this happening to me?

These are the questions that keep coming back.

There are moments when I want to believe it isn't real. Moments when I tell myself, No, I'm okay. I'm fine. This can't be happening.

Maybe that is my mind trying to protect my heart from something it wasn't prepared to hear.

I am slowly learning that acceptance doesn't happen in one moment.

It comes in little pieces.

One day, I can talk about it.
Another day, I don't want to hear the word.
One moment, I feel strong.
The next, I fall apart.

And perhaps that's okay.

I don't need to pretend that I am brave every single day.

I don't need to understand everything right now.

I don't even know what this journey will look like yet.

But I do know this:

I am here.

And while I don't have answers to the why and the how, I am learning to take one day at a time.

Some people may not know how to fix my pain. They may not have the right words, the perfect advice, or an answer to all my questions.

But some have simply stayed.

They checked on me.
They prayed for me.
They listened.
They sat with me in the uncertainty.
They made me laugh when I needed to forget for a moment.
They reminded me that I don't have to carry everything alone.

And sometimes, that is enough.

And if you ever stumble upon my page again and read the same sentence once… twice… and perhaps see the same word again and again.....

Cancer.

Please don't stop reading.

Instead, pause for a moment.

And be grateful.

Be grateful for the life you have.
For the healthy you.
For the body that allows you to wake up and move through another ordinary day.
For being alive.
For having this life.
For the things you often take for granted because they have always been there.

For not being sick.

Because when you suddenly find yourself sitting on the other side of health, you begin to see things differently.

The things you once thought were important can suddenly become so small.

And the simplest things become precious.

A good morning.
A good night's sleep.
A meal you can enjoy.
A walk outside.
A hug.
A conversation.
A laugh with someone you love.

Things that once felt ordinary suddenly feel like gifts.

Because, honestly, health is truly wealth.

We spend so much of our lives chasing money, success, possessions, plans and the next big thing.

But when your health becomes uncertain, you realise that being able to simply live your life is already a blessing.

So if you're reading this while you are healthy…

Please don't wait for something to remind you how precious that is.

Go live.

Love more.

Laugh more.

Call your people.

Take care of yourself.

Be grateful for your body.

Be grateful for today.

Because today, you are alive.

And sometimes, that is already everything.

As for me…

I don't know what this chapter will bring.

I am still trying to understand.
Still hoping.
Still afraid.
Still grateful.
Still believing.

But I am here.

And I will walk through this one day at a time.

Cancer may now be part of my story.
But it is not the whole story.

My story is still being written.

And I am still here...and so are you! 

xo,

Ai