Anyone. Any health condition. Any age.

I was lucky enough to be one of the one hundred voices for The Scars of Gold campaign by Mortal & Strong. Here are the words I chose to appear alongside my image in the coffee table book.

There I was, 32, yet to settle down, in my first senior management position, chasing the corporate dream, I’d just bought my first flat, ticking all the boxes that society expected of me. Then boom, I found a lump, there was no avoiding it, I was ‘lucky’ there was no ‘go home and keep an eye on it, it might be nothing’ there was a large, undeniable lump and it needed looking at.

At the hospital I was told that yes, it was indeed cancer, again with a level of certainty, no waiting around. I was to start treatment, I was not to Google. I was to be strong, it will be 6 months of my  life, that was all. You will make it through, here is your roadmap, follow it, do not digress, do not break down.

So, I did. I handled it respectably, I stayed positive and stoic, the model student. I ensured everyone was informed and updated and I continued working. I did not take up space, I ensured my presence at appointments was quick and compliant, I registered elements of mistreatment and insensitivity in my head, but did not speak out, did not cause trouble, I was already inconveniencing so many and taking up valuable resource. I was lucky I told myself, there were people in worse situations. I was to limit my burden, to others, to the system.  

I kept the worst days between a few trusted people, spent days alone when I needed to retreat and stay in my head, still unable to fully reflect on the situation. I experienced days where I’d have happily quit, taken the option I was terrified of, given in to my worst fears. Then, days where I was beyond grateful for the people in my life, my family, my friends. Where the situation seemed less dire, a little lighter.

I was on a strange autopilot, every next step laid out in front of me, the appointment, the outcome, the next phase of treatment., with very little agency, no real control. Chemo, tick. Surgery, tick. Radiotherapy, tick.

I recovered well, I healed physically, I returned to my life, and I exceeded expectations.

But, I never stopped and processed, I never let the water settle, I never reflected on just what I had been through, made no acknowledgment that whilst physically I may have recovered, I’d not even started the mental process.

So, on I pushed, desperately trying to get back to ‘normal’ with no thought to the fact that that very normality might have been what brought me to this place.

I showed myself very little kindness, no softness, I did not nurture, I kept pushing, stressing,  aggressively chasing the sense of normality, for the ‘before’, to maintain the productivity and achieve the milestones.

I was hovering precariously close to the edge, ticking all the external boxes but remaining so disconnected from my own body, mind, and soul.

The unravelling had happened slowly, bit by bit, over time. I hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t realised how far I’d strayed. This low was no way to live, but it had rolled in gradually, taking over more and more.

Trauma changes a person, there will be no return to normal, but there needs to be a new normal. We need to pause, reflect, acknowledge what brought us here, what our body has been trying to tell us, that our lifestyle is toxic, that we’ve moved too far away from our authentic selves, that we need to find peace, that we must be happy in the present, that the simple things will bring us joy. That to push through the dark days will bring a light and strength, that it will be ok, there is hope and potential.

I sought help, I found the healers, the authentic and wise souls, the heart-centered givers who slowly taught me how to get back to me. Who quietly cheered me on and held space for me, to reflect upon and sit with who I might actually now be.

As I write this, I am the very best version of me, I am the most content and fulfilled version of me.

Strangely, I am grateful for the experience, without it I would not be the person that I am today.

I like that person, she has a strength that no one knew she possessed. She has purpose, and drive, she hopes to light the way for others. To signpost and create the roadmap that she so needed when coming out of the other side. To bring into the light the things we do not say, to speak the truths, to push back and to inspire. She has hope and sees potential, she is proud to be voice number 32.