Mental Health: How to grow sunflowers in a rainstorm

This has been the most challenging yet most cathartic topic to write about, thus far. For an amputee, cancer survivor or someone with a chronic illness, the sense of permanence that the loss of a limb, life long cat scans, and pain medication bring can be all-consuming. Thankfully most people will never experience these things. With that, comes a lack of understanding of how our mental health is directly impacted. So we lean on each other. We are, in a sense, a family of people who could not be more different but find ourselves connecting over the weight that sits heavy on our shoulders. We tell each other things we won't admit to our families and we celebrate each other's baby steps even when we have never met. I think it brings us hope. And hope has a whole new meaning to us now.

Several of you have reached out to me and opened up about how you are feeling amid your amputation surgery recovery. I firmly believe that there is no right or "normal" way to feel in these moments. Your life has been changed forever. You have lost a part of yourself and the pain that causes your soul is tragic. Although I do promise to bring sunshine with this blog, I also vow to be truthful and honest about the darkness that creeps in. I found myself getting so emotional reading your stories. I was thankful that someone had taken the time to read my blog, connect with me and tell me they appreciated what I was doing. But I also shed some tears because the words I read were exactly what I was feeling and I had not fully allowed myself to admit. Why am I saying everything is fine? Am I qualified to tell people it's going to be ok when I honestly don't know if it is? I get angry when I think about all the high heels I just set aside to donate and when I think about the fact that I will be considered disabled for the rest of my life no matter how much I accomplish.

I want you to know that I am not perfect. Some days it's just not possible to be all sunshine and rainbows and silver linings and I don't think it's healthy to always be. Feelings are meant to be felt. But I work on myself each day to take steps to find my strength. I am working on seeking help when I need it to avoid anxiety spirals that I can't pull myself out of. I don't only share positive messages on Instagram for you. I share them for me. I share them so I will read them over and over again on the days when I ache with sadness. I tell you about my experiences because it's healing. It's the most vulnerable I have ever been and that makes this all a bit more bearable somehow. I sat around for 8 weeks. For 8 weeks I couldn't walk, I couldn't help my husband with anything and I was taking close to 14 pills and 2 shots a day just to deal with the radiating pains I felt in a leg that was gone. While I was grieving the loss of my leg, I could still physically feel it. It was a cruel reality. I had to learn to cope. Just the way I had learned to cope with the fact that no one could save my leg this time.

5 years ago when I was first diagnosed with Osteosarcoma, I was a mess. I did not smile, I did not laugh, there was no sunshine. I didn't take the steps to get help. I felt sorry for myself every day. When I searched for hopeful stories of recovery, all I found was death. Dr. Google was bringing nothing but negativity and I couldn't find the strength to overcome it. I was no cancer warrior. I've grown so much since that time and I want to hug that sad, hopeless little girl I once was. What have I learned since then? I've learned to fight. Cancer won't take my happiness. And so every day I fight for what I believe in. I believe in the power of a good book, singing Taylor Swift songs as loud as I can in the car, Prayer, a good skincare regimen, soaking up vitamin D in my backyard hammock, charging my crystals in the moonlight, game nights, Christmas morning, spending time with people who I love and I also believe in medication and therapy that help you find a healthy balance. I challenge you to find what you believe in. Find what sparks joy because some days, you will need to pull out that list. When we stop working on our mental health we stop working on living. I have always believed in appreciating the small stuff. This experience has helped me magnify those feelings because they keep me going. "Do what makes you happy" They say. Sounded silly once... I get it.