One year ago today was my 35th birthday.

A day that should have been a celebration of life instead became the beginning of the hardest fight I have ever faced. Life handed me a malignant tumor and a long battle with breast cancer.

I remember sitting alone in a dark room, trying to find the words to tell my family, my friends, and my colleagues that I was carrying far more than I could hold. Pride and ego have always been difficult lessons for me—I wanted to believe I was superhuman, that I could carry everything on my own.

I couldn’t.

To everyone who has walked beside me through my darkest days—those who sent words of encouragement, prayers, blessings, and good vibes—please know how deeply grateful I am. Your support carried me when I didn’t have the strength to carry myself.

Recently, I’ve returned to work, and it has been far more challenging than I ever imagined. I’m trying to find a new version of “normal,” knowing things may never be quite the same. This year, I’m doing what I should have done sooner: asking for help.

Today is not only my 36th birthday—it marks one year of surviving my personal boss battle through hell and back. All I want for my birthday is the chance to truly get back on my feet. I’m tired of having to be resilient. I’m tired of barely making ends meet. I want space to heal, to stabilize, and to move forward.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for walking with me through the dark days and standing with me as I rebuild.