The c word no one ever wants to hear

I Chose This Path

There’s no easy way to begin this post, so I’ll start with the truth:

I have breast cancer.

Those words still land heavy some days. Lighter on others. But either way, they’re part of my life now. A new companion on my path - not an enemy, not a punishment, not a mistake. Just... something I chose.

That may sound strange, maybe even upsetting to some. “Who would ever choose cancer?”

But if you know me - truly know me - then maybe you already understand what I mean. I don’t believe in random chaos. I believe in soul contracts, in deep remembering, in life as a mirror. I believe that we are always being given opportunities to come back home to ourselves.

And so, cancer arrived. Not as a death sentence. But as a soul invitation.

To slow down.
To strip away.
To listen.
To nourish.
To feel.
To live.

The Journey Before the Diagnosis

If I’m honest, the journey didn’t begin with the diagnosis. It began long before that - in the ways I ignored my body, in the patterns I repeated, in the quiet ache I felt when I looked in the mirror and saw a version of myself that wasn’t fully me.

I’ve always carried weight. Physically, emotionally, energetically. I’ve always been strong - for everyone else. Always working, always doing, always showing up. Even when I was eating well or working out, there was a war going on inside. A part of me - an old, protective part - that refused to let go. That part fed my body, but not my soul.

And when we don’t nourish our soul, our body has to carry the weight.

Why I'm Sharing This

I’ve hesitated to say these words out loud - to write them, to post them, to be seen in this moment. But I believe that this business I’ve built, Balance + Tranquility, was never just about float therapy or crystals or salt caves. It was never just about the services. It was always about the remembering. The healing. The coming back home to ourselves.

And so, if I’m really going to live what I believe - then I have to let you see me now. Not just when I’m leading a meditation or lighting a candle or posting an inspirational quote.

But here. In this moment. In the mess. In the becoming.

I don’t know what the next few months will look like. I know there will be surgeries. I know there will be healing. I know there will be days I’ll want to hide. And I know there will be days I’ll feel strong and radiant and wildly alive.

But I also know this:
This is not a story about illness.
This is a story about transformation.

Thank you for being part of it.

With love,
Linda