Grief with stage IV cancer isn’t just about death—it’s about losing pieces of yourself while you’re still here.

I grieve the life I had. The ability to plan a day and actually do it. The energy to say yes without wondering if I’ll be too fatigued, in pain, or stuck at another surprise blood draw. I watch people go on with their lives and sometimes wish I could just jump in without a second thought.

Instead, trips are shorter, closer, slower. They’re built with rest breaks and backup plans. My daily schedule has shifted from “here’s my whole day” to “here’s what I might try this week.” And when I don’t get it all done, it feels like failure—like I wasn’t enough.

The truth is, cancer has taught me a brutal lesson: energy isn’t just physical. Emotional energy drains faster than running a marathon. My body is fighting behind the scenes 24/7. And my brain? Let’s just say it’s its own exhausting full-time job.

So now I live in a rhythm: do a thing, rest, recharge, repeat. High-energy, pre-cancer me would’ve laughed at the idea of needing recovery time after folding laundry. Yet here I am, with a bullet journal (yes, I caved) trying to map out energy like its currency. I may not be able to control my body but I can take charge of how I respond to it.

This grief isn’t the same as mourning a death, but it is mourning—the loss of my old self, of the version of me who didn’t have to measure every ounce of energy just to exist. And yeah, it sucks.

But I’m still here. I’m still me—just reshaped. Different. Learning to live in this “new normal.” (ugh! I hate that term…must find something else like ‘The Realness Era’ or ‘Life 2.0 – with glitches’) And maybe the most defiant thing I can do is name the grief, feel it, and still keep moving forward, just a little slower and without a plan.

And this my friends is what it is to be resilient. One of the most important lessons to learn from your time on this rock.