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