Playlist:
- “In Jesus Name (God of Possible)” by Katy Nichole
- “When I Fall” by Kate Nichole
- “Fighting For Me” by Riley Clemmons
- “Unstoppable” by Sia
Did 2025 leave anyone else feeling beat down? Like you were crawling your way to 2026? Maybe it wasn’t 2025 for you, but another year entirely. Or maybe 2026 has already gotten off to a rough start, and you’re dreading what’s ahead.
If that’s you, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to be alone.
I want to share my journey with you in hopes that someone reading this can find hope – or at least feel a little less isolated in whatever they’re carrying. I’m going to be honest up front: this is not a “how to” for making your problems disappear. Just because I made it through 2025 doesn’t mean the hard stuff didn’t follow me into 2026.
I am still on this journey, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help others along the way. So here we go.
Almost one year ago to the day, I was sitting at my annual physical with my primary care doctor. I had a list of things I wanted to talk to him about, but I had this overwhelming feeling that I needed to focus on one thing, my thyroid.
This is where I believe God was already at work.
At first, my doctor wanted to dismiss my concerns – and honestly I don’t blame him. Based on my symptoms, he wasn’t wrong to assume something else might be going on. But I kept pushing the thyroid issue. Finally, I blurted out “my mom’s dad died of thyroid cancer.” That was the moment everything changed.
He felt around my thyroid. Not just a quick check. Not a dismissal.
The next thing I knew, an ultrasound was ordered because he felt something. Then a biopsy was ordered because the ultrasound picked up on a nodule large enough to warrant it. Then the biopsy came back with words I never expected to hear at 30 years old, while raising a 3-year-old:
Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma. Thyroid cancer.
When I got the call, my husband was on his way home from work. My son was chasing our dog around the kitchen. Meanwhile, my head is spinning. I couldn’t wait to get off the phone with the doctor so I could just sob.
As my doctor said words like “surgery,” “medication the rest of your life,” and “radioactive iodine” I truly felt like I was stuck in a nightmare – like I had somehow stepped into someone else’s reality.
But it wasn’t a mistake. And I wasn’t sleeping, so it wasn’t a nightmare.
The next several weeks were a whirlwind of waiting. Waiting on calls. Waiting on scheduling. Waiting on answers. Waiting on anything that felt like movement.
First, the consultation for surgery to finally get some more information. Then it was waiting for the call to get the surgery scheduled. And then you guessed it – more waiting for the actual surgery date to arrive.
Sound familiar?
Maybe you haven’t been waiting on cancer surgery, but you’ve been waiting on something. Anything. Some kind of life-changing event, good or bad. Maybe it’s an answer you need. Maybe it’s a diagnosis. Maybe it’s a job. Maybe it’s a relationship. Maybe it’s healing.
And the truth is: waiting is where you can feel the most lost and alone. It’s where the “what ifs” start multiplying.
Worry, fear, anxiety come knocking at your door – and they don’t just visit. They move in. They make themselves comfortable. They lounge on the couch every minute of the day until eventually, you don’t even notice them anymore. You start offering them coffee like they belong there.
But they don’t belong there.
And while they’re sitting there, they’re doing exactly what they do best: sucking the life out of you. slowly, quietly, relentlessly.
They convince you that isolating is easier than reaching out. They convince you that nobody understands. They convince you that it’s your burden to carry by yourself. That is the enemy talking and the good news is, there is a voice that is is louder.
But eventually – hopefully – you hit a point where you realize you can’t carry it all on your own. Not physically. Not mentally. Not emotionally. Not spiritually.
If you haven’t gotten to that point yet, please don’t wait until you break. Let this be your sign: give some of that heavy lifting to the people who love… and to God. Let his voice be louder than any other.
I’m going to circle back around to my cancer story quick and talk more on finding community, leaning into faith and allowing other people to show up for you – in part 2 of My Year of Healing.
To help prepare for my surgery, my step-mom created a meal train so people could sign up to bring meals, donate money or send restaurant gift cards. The love people showed through that was unbelievable. People we didn’t even know – and people we hadn’t spoken to in years – showed up for our family.
That’s when community really started to reveal itself.
And it’s also when I started to realize just how much I had isolated myself.
The months of recovery after surgery were rough. However, through this, God truly worked through me and helped me through it in more ways than one.
If you’d like to continue this story, I would love for you to join me in part 2: My Year of Healing – Part 2. There I will touch more on my mental health, my faith and continued healing.