My world is precious, valuable. Something worth taking care of. When I wake up in the morning, I look around in Blissful Awe at my magic camp, and I see the true big meaning of this cancer.

People say it comes from bitterness—oh my goodness, people can get analytical and up in their heads and say all kinds of weird things. But nobody but me, my HP, and my body know its deepest meaning.

My cancer came for love.

How else would I ever have let myself get a cot? I would’ve slept on my floor forever if chemo hadn’t made the situation untenable.

How else would I have become grateful enough to throw out all my junk, clear space, get some sweet, colorful things, make my camp nice?

How else would I ever become humble enough to let go of my judgments? How else would I have ever known I wanted a divorce, that I wanted to be free, that I wanted to be me?

How else would I have ever decided to love myself, finally without skimping, without holding back? How else would I have finally decided that I’ve gone long enough in this life pushing my body and my home away?

How else would I have decided that being alive and happy was good enough?

When you get the diagnosis on Valentine’s Day, and your first chemo treatment is on International Women’s Day, Tara Day, what else, honestly, could it be, but love?

Sally Blue’s job in this world is to love. I don’t think I would have realized that so clearly without this cancer. That’s all I need to do. Love myself. Love others. Love my story. Love other people’s stories. That’s it.

It’s so simple and clear to me now!