I was diagnosed with breast cancer in October 2019.

My grandmother, Otelia, was the first person I ever met affected by breast cancer. By the time I was four, I knew what a double mastectomy was. I was familiar with her scars and her body-positive attitude fed my own confidence as I grew.

Her story is important because it’s part of my story. I feel an obligation to uphold her legacy. Her residual love has gotten me through a huge chunk of my recovery. Every day I wish she was here to walk this journey with me. But in a way she never left. Every time I look in the mirror at my scars I see her.

I had been frustrated about having to rediscover my physical femininity. My body isn’t the same shape and I have to dig deep to “feel beautiful.” I know that beauty is skin deep, but my spirit took a hard hit and we are only beginning to rediscover the feminine goddess within.

I still get angry at my body.

I chose to spare breast tissue during surgery in hopes of natural reconstruction. But in all honesty, I regret the decision. I experience chronic pain and swelling daily.

At the beginning of my journey, I was told to remember that cancer is not me, and I am not cancer. But it is so hard to forget for even five minutes that this has affected my life with constant pain reminders. So I am patient with myself and take more time to love myself when I do get mad.

I’m learning how to accept my metamorphosis and love my body as it heals from cancer.

No easy feat.

I am focusing on making good choices for my wellness and my future.

I am grateful for this strong body and the courage I have inherited from the strong women before me.

I bear my naked truth so I may let go of my fears and help others embrace their truth.