My world was turned upside down. I had three kids under the age of six and a husband who struggled to deal with my diagnosis. Everywhere I turned, the situation became worse. No one could give answers, just more questions. No one told me I could be cured.

I was told I had 3-5 years max to live and not much else.

I had two choices: I could curl up under my doona and live in my bubble or I could put on my game face, live life to the fullest and dig & mine for all the possible options available. I had to give up my secret garden and abandon my natural instincts. I had to embrace vulnerability and fight for life.

I have made my life complicated because I never let anyone in. I thought strength was personified by oneness, rather than openness. By not allowing love in, I closed off opportunities to grow. I have learnt that holding back my emotions does not get you anywhere. I really had to trust someone to be vulnerable. On March 5th I determined that this had to stop. My bubble had to burst. 

 

The first year, whilst I had a thirst for knowledge, I had to endure a horrific marriage breakdown. The events that transpired were so traumatic. It is hard to think  about  losing your life and then losing your marriage. It is a double whammy. It made me feel really false. The heartache and pain that I endured after the separation was nothing that I ever expected. I fought incredibly hard to keep my children with me. This ultimately came at a cost to my health.

 

Without doubt it has changed me as a person. My whole outlook on life has evolved. Things that mattered before don't matter now. I do worry about leaving the children behind and how this will affect their lives... this is my greatest concern not so much about death itself, though it is a very scary thought. It is leaving this world on your own with no idea of what comes next. Only hoping you make it to that bigger and better place above. It has made me dramatically alter my lifestyle.

I have really focused on eating healthier, first and foremost. I am very pedantic on what I consume and where I shop for these foods. I keep a diary of what I eat and take photos of meals to keep myself accountable.

 

This extends to my time at the gym. I work out 5-6 times per week. This can range from weights, cardio to salsa dancing I am vigilant with my tailored, prepared program. Everything relates to a body, mind, heart & perspective. Science was never going to be enough. 

Upon diagnosis, I wasn’t offered any other viable treatment (outside of a ‘sentence’); so I had to resort to alternative means.

 

Meditation became my favorite retreat. It makes you appreciate every day. It makes you want to live every day. In the present. You don’t know when your last day is going to be. You don’t know upon completion of your scan whether you will be told ‘it’ has progressed to a higher grade. It is hard not to feel fragile when fear looms at every corner. Making sure that every day contains elements of body, mind, heart and spirit is the only way to keep fear at bay. 

 

I have been on a roller coaster of highs and lows. It is challenging not to remain in my safe place. My bubble. My secret garden. But I know that I can’t be complacent as inactivity will be the death of me.

 

I became painfully aware of this after I endured a mind-shaking seizure that a friend said resembled a scene from 'The Exorcist' from that moment I came to realize that my life would be about gratitude and self-discovery. 

 

I have learnt that you can never take a single day or moment for granted. This ‘aha’ has meant that I want to share my cancer journey with friends, family and anyone else going through a similar situation. 

 

Having brain cancer is a very harrowing place. It has that ‘terminal’ diagnosis that makes it very scary. There is no one presenting information that will ally your anxiety and fears. You don’t know whom to turn to. People do not have the knowledge or the funds to contribute anything additional. You are alone. At times it has felt like you are the only person with this disease. Even with other people who have the same diagnosis, they are all different. It is so hard to find someone who understands what you are going through.

 

Even if you do, often they avoid the inevitable. It is too difficult to talk about the reality. There have not been many brain cancer patients in my age group. There are younger kids and the ever-growing older group. 

 

It is rare to find someone who I can relate to. I am often looked upon to lift up other people’s spirits. Some people cannot get to support groups. They curl up because they think they have no hope. This has to stop.