🌸 Twelve Years in Remission — but Loved Like it was Yesterday

Today, I was reminded what it feels like to be seen.

It’s been 17 years since I heard the words “you have breast cancer,” and yet, somehow, that moment still lives in me. The fear, the fight, the change — it never really leaves. Over the years, the world keeps spinning, and people move on. Even those closest to you stop checking in, stop remembering. And that’s okay — time softens things, but it also makes you quietly carry what others forget.

But not today.

This morning, I walked into our Carver office to find a dozen pink roses waiting — a stunning, thoughtful arrangement that stopped me in my tracks. Both of our offices were filled with bright pink cupcakes, and every single teammate wore pink. They didn’t just acknowledge the day — they celebrated it.

They celebrated me.

Then came the video. A surprise that captured my story, my strength, and somehow the light that this company has reflected back to me tenfold. Watching my coworkers — none of whom were even in my life when I went through treatment — speak words of compassion, admiration, and genuine care… it reached places I didn’t know still needed healing.

Because the truth is, breast cancer changes you forever. It rewrites your body, your spirit, your faith in small and enormous ways. You don’t ever go back to who you were — you grow into someone new.

Back then, I remember the strange silence from people who didn’t know what to say — and worse, the few who said things that still sting to this day. Comments like, “You look better now than before,” after a mastectomy, as if survival came with some sort of glow-up. Those words landed heavy. They made me feel unseen — like my fight, my scars, and my healing were being flattened into a punchline.

So when I say that what my Carver family did this week meant the world, I mean it with every fiber of who I am.

To be surrounded by a team that didn’t live that chapter with me, but honors it as if they did — that’s rare. That’s family. That’s Carver.

Today wasn’t about pink ribbons or campaigns. It was about humanity. About empathy that doesn’t need history to show up. And maybe the most beautiful part? That love didn’t stop with me. The moment they chose to celebrate my survivorship opened a floodgate of connection across our entire team — a wave of care, kindness, and reflection that you usually only see around the holidays. It reminded all of us that beneath the titles, tasks, and to-do lists, we’re just people — doing our best to show up for one another.

To my Carver family — thank you. For your love, your light, and your unspoken understanding that survivorship is a lifelong story. You’ve made this chapter one of grace, gratitude, and overwhelming warmth.

Here’s to 17 years of surviving — and to being reminded that we never do it alone. 💗

"For Our Carls"