5 Honest and Raw Things I Learned Getting Cancer In My 30s
Getting diagnosed with stage 3 cancer in my 30s was never part of my plan. In a season of life where I was supposed to be building, growing, creating, and dreaming — everything suddenly shifted. But along this hard, unpredictable road, I’ve learned some things I never would have understood otherwise. Today I want to share them with you.
- Your body changes overnight
One day I felt like a typical 30-something. The next, I was living inside a body that suddenly felt decades older. The fatigue isn’t just “tired” — it’s bone-deep. Your energy shifts. Your relationship with your own body shifts. And you have to grieve that version of yourself you no longer feel. - The grief is more than just physical
It’s not just your health you grieve. It’s your plans, your career goals, your family dreams, your timing. Everything you pictured for your 30s suddenly feels uncertain. You see friends around you building lives while you’re trying to hold onto yours. It’s a deep kind of grief nobody prepares you for. - People react in surprising ways
You find out quickly who is truly in your corner. Some people step up in beautiful ways. Others distance themselves because they don’t know what to say. Some avoid you altogether. Cancer changes your community. And while it hurts, it also shows you who your real people are. - The little moments feel sacred
Suddenly, every sunset, every fresh bloom in the garden, every ordinary day becomes something you notice. You don’t take as much for granted. Simple things feel incredibly meaningful. Small joys carry you in ways you never realized before. - You carry both fear and hope together
There’s a constant balancing act between fear of the unknown and hope for what’s possible. Some days you’re terrified. Other days you’re full of quiet strength. Learning to hold both at once becomes a daily practice.
This garden I’m growing while walking through cancer isn’t just about plants. It’s about choosing to keep growing even when life feels fragile. It’s about hope. It’s about reclaiming small pieces of joy. And it’s a reminder that even in the hardest seasons, we can still bloom.
If you’ve found yourself on a similar road, know that you’re not alone. Your story matters. Your healing matters. And you are allowed to honor both the struggle and the beauty at the same time.
