39 years ago today, I became a mother.

In many ways, it feels like yesterday. I can put myself back during my pregnancy, my labor, and my delivery like it was minutes ago instead of nearly four decades.

And yet so much has happened during that time, and so much has changed during that time.

My son grew up. And so did I. Although I was technically an adult when he was born, I certainly wasn't the person I am today.

There has been a divorce, a remarriage, moves, career changes, celebrations, disappointments, and losses—including the deaths of my parents and my husband—and experiences I never could have imagined back then.

Some of these were wonderful. Some painful. Some that changed the direction of my life in ways I couldn't possibly have predicted.

And somehow, 39 years went by.

It's funny how we experience time, isn't it?

When we're waiting for something, time can seem to crawl. But when we look back, entire decades can feel like they passed in the blink of an eye.

And here's something else I've been thinking about.

We spend so much of our lives trying to figure out who we are. But what happens when our lives change, and the person we used to be doesn't quite fit anymore?

Sometimes those changes happen gradually. We barely notice them until we look back and realize how different we are.

Other times, change happens in an instant.

A diagnosis. A loss. An unexpected event that divides our lives into before and after.

Cancer is one of those events.

One day, you're going about your life, making plans, handling responsibilities, and assuming things will continue more or less as expected.

And then everything changes.

Suddenly, you may not recognize your life. Or even yourself.

You may find yourself longing for the person you were before cancer. The one who had more energy, felt confident in her body, and didn't think twice about making plans for the future.

And you may spend an enormous amount of emotional energy trying to get back to that version of yourself.

But here's something interesting.

When we look back 39 years, we generally accept that we've changed. We don't expect ourselves to have the same priorities, abilities, relationships, or beliefs we had decades ago.

In fact, we expect our lives to change as we get older. We know that the person we are today isn't going to be the person we are 10 or 20 years from now. We understand that change is inevitable.

Yet when cancer changes our lives, we often resist those changes fiercely.

Why?

I think part of the answer is that we didn't choose these changes. We didn't ask for them. And many of them have taken away things we valued about ourselves and our lives.

And partly, returning to our old selves can feel like proof that cancer hasn't taken anything permanent from us.

But sometimes that determination to get back to "normal" keeps us stuck.

There's an important distinction between accepting what happened and approving of what happened.

We can accept that something has changed without being happy about it. And once we stop fighting the reality of those changes, we may discover that we have more choices than we thought.

Which brings me to another question.

What if the goal isn't to get back to who you were? What if it's to figure out who you want to be now?

That doesn't mean you have to be grateful for cancer or believe it happened for a reason. And it certainly doesn't mean you have to like what happened or the changes it brought.

It means recognizing that your life has continued to evolve, just as it has through every other experience you've had.

You get to decide which parts of your former life you want to reclaim, which parts no longer serve you, and what you want to create moving forward.

Maybe that means changing how you work. Setting different boundaries. Making more room for relationships, experiences, or simply doing nothing without feeling guilty.

Or maybe it means learning to accept that you can't do everything you once did, without deciding that somehow makes you less than you were.

And none of this has to happen overnight.

Today, as I think about the 39 years since my son was born, I realize how many versions of myself I've been during those decades.

Some I miss. Some I'm glad I've outgrown. And some I might even laugh at!

But they're all part of my story.

And the person I am today is still a work in progress.

So here's my question for you.

Are you trying so hard to get back to the person you used to be that you're missing the opportunity to discover who you could become?

You don't have to have the answer today.

But perhaps it's a question worth asking.

Thirty-nine years ago, I became a mother. I had no idea how much my life would change, or how much I would change along with it.

And 39 years later, I'm still becoming.

If you're struggling to make peace with the changes cancer has brought into your life, or you're not sure who you are or what you want anymore, you don't have to figure it all out alone. I'd love to help you let go of what's keeping you stuck, rediscover what matters to you, and create a life that feels right for who you are now.

Reach out and let's schedule a call to explore what's possible for you.

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