Yesterday was my cancer-versary. Two years ago, I had my everything-ectomy and received my cancer diagnosis.

It’s definitely still weird to process.

I’m sitting outside nearly all day long these days, either on the daybed on my side porch or in the hammock between the two trees. Both still bring me back to being chemo’d, as that’s where I spent that summer.

It’s definitely still weird to process.

If I ate cake, I would get myself one with the topping I heard from one of my dearest cancer-friends.

“Good job not dying.”

I have said often that I was extremely lucky in my unluckiness. As I’ve written before, ovarian cancer is one of those cancers where people make that sound when you tell them. That gasping sound.

Because, generally, no one finds it before stage 3 or 4.

I was extremely lucky in my unluckiness that my body alerted me whilst I was still stage 1c. I am extremely grateful to my body for telling me that something was wrong.

I have also often shared two sayings that were given to me by that same cancer-friend.

“I will take more from cancer than cancer takes from me,” and “As bad as it is, it’s as good as it can be.”

As I continue to get better and stronger, and I continue to hope that I don’t find another physical hiccup or challenge to go through, I’m letting the good be even better and I’m taking from cancer, and that whole journey, all I can.

I am so proud of and thankful for my body for not dying. For still being here. For choosing to live and to live even more truthfully, lovingly, authentically, and out loud.

I know I’m still processing all that happened. That I have a hard time grasping that I had cancer. That I am a cancer survivor. That that’s another survivorship mantle I can wear. That I still most likely need to grieve and mourn and cry, and that I can also celebrate. That I can, bit by bit, day by day, hopefully let go of some of the remnant cancer-fear that seeps into you the first time someone uses that word and you in the same sentence.

That I can acknowledge that I made it through and that I’m cancer-free, as of my last scan. That I can honor my body for doing such an excellent, brilliant, magnificent, spectacular job not dying.

Good job not dying. Now go have a good day.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!