At 35, just three years after having my son, I was diagnosed with stage 1A breast cancer. In hindsight, it was easily treated with a lumpectomy and radiation. I believed it was just a minor detour in my life. However, at 39, I was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. I was devastated. What started as a bad cold turned out to be breast cancer that had spread to my lungs and bones. I remember seeing the results of my 6-month MRI follow-up after an X-ray with my primary care team, and my heart sank. I knew the cancer was back before my oncologist confirmed it. When we finally met a few days later, we agreed I would go home to enjoy Halloween with my family before focusing on the next steps.

Within days, I started chemotherapy—there was no time to get the port put in until the morning of my second round. The IV went directly into a vein in my arm. It was intense. My entire life came to a halt. As a working parent and the main source of income for my family, I was overwhelmed with fear and anxiety. It’s indescribable to anyone who hasn’t experienced it.

After spending two days in the Emergency Department during the week of my 40th birthday, I felt like giving up. The physical and emotional pain was unbearable. If this was my future, I didn’t want any part of it. I felt my family deserved better.

But even on the darkest days, something always kept me going. Whether it was my mom coming to stay and help, a meal from a neighbor, the support of an amazing care team, or a funny meme from a dear friend, I kept moving forward. Inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert, I started journaling to love. “Dear Love, what would you have me know today?” Through this practice, I kept my heart open, inviting love back into my life.

Slowly, the darkness began to fade, and my world became lighter. My intense chemotherapy ended, and I could breathe again, literally. I found my new voice. I got back on my horse, took a new job with a better work-life balance, and found a new way to live. With each passing scan, the cancer shrinks. Thanks be to love.

Cancer isn’t the only lifelong illness I have. I also have ADPKD, a hereditary kidney disease. But here I am, living a full life. My days look much like those of people not living with cancer. I work full-time, run around with my now 8-year-old son, sing loudly at concerts with my husband, and plan to travel as much as possible.

Metastatic breast cancer is a weighty companion, but it teaches me how to truly lean into love.