Life After Cancer: How I Now Define Health as a Three-Time Cancer Survivor

The Myth of Control: When Too Much Wellness Becomes a False Promise

Like many Americans, before being diagnosed with stage 4 blood cancer, I had fallen prey to the diet and wellness industry’s promise that food and exercise could save me. I was fully bought in—living by strict nutritional rules, convinced that if I just ate the right things, I could control my fate. After all, if my diet could save me, why bother fixing everything else in my life that was completely shattered, right?

Cancer Doesn’t Discriminate

When people hear that someone has cancer, they often assume that person was unhealthy—living off fast food, neglecting exercise, and making poor lifestyle choices. But I’m here to tell you that’s simply not true. Not only was that not my reality, but along the way, I’ve met countless women battling cancer who eat well and work out regularly. Cancer isn’t just a disease of the out-of-shape and overweight. It doesn’t discriminate.

A Wake-Up Call That Changed Everything

Being diagnosed was a brutal wake-up call. It slammed me against a wall—three times—and forced me to open my eyes. Food wasn’t going to save me. My diagnosis made me reassess my entire life, my environment, and my overall well-being. It helped me unlearn 30 years of ingrained beliefs and habits—things I clung to as a way to justify a professional life that was, in reality, negating all the "healthy" choices I thought I was making.

The Energy Bucket: Where Are You Pouring Your Resources?

I believe we, as humans, operate with a single bucket of energy. We don’t have separate buckets—one for health, one for career, one for family. Just one. And it’s up to us to decide where that energy goes. Talk to any overworked professional, and you’ll quickly realize that most of their energy is funneled into their job, leaving very little for anything else. I believe overall health works the same way. You get one bucket, and if you don’t allocate its contents wisely, something will suffer.

The 6 Key Pillars of Wellness

Today, I center my health around six key pillars—each equally important, like slices of a balanced pie. No single pillar can sustain me on its own; they all work together to create a foundation for true wellness. The chart above helps me visualize my efforts, ensuring that I’m not neglecting one area while overinvesting in another. It’s a reminder that health isn’t just one thing—it’s the sum of everything.

Sleep: Prioritizing the amount, quality, and consistency of rest.

Before:
For years, my relationship with sleep was completely dysfunctional (see Melatonin Changed My Life for more context). Instead of addressing it, I found ways to work around it. When I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d head to the gym late at night. I thrived in high-pressure work environments where I could justify running on just a few hours of sleep, convincing myself that productivity outweighed recovery.

When I founded my first company, my sleep habits became even more erratic—long naps at odd hours, disrupted nights, and a reliance on green juice and expensive supplements to "offset" the damage. I thought I was managing, but in reality, I was running my body into the ground.

Now:
Sleep is the foundation of my well-being. Getting a full eight hours every night is non-negotiable. In fact, I think I’d rather eat junk for a day than sacrifice quality rest. Sleep isn’t just about feeling rested—it directly impacts my decisions, focus, and overall health.

Now, I prioritize sleep before anything else. I don’t schedule early morning workouts because they cut into my rest. And honestly? I think sacrificing sleep to exercise is insane. It completely cancels out the benefits. If my body isn’t properly rested, no amount of working out, supplements, or "clean eating" will make up for it. Sleep comes first—everything else follows.

Stress: Identifying and addressing sources of stress—whether it's a toxic job, an unhealthy relationship, or unrealistic expectations.

Before:
I was addicted to stress. I got bored easily and often threw myself into complicated, high-pressure situations just to keep my mind busy. For some, stress comes from an unhealthy relationship or a toxic workplace. For me, stress was a choice—one that I justified as a necessary part of success. Over time, I started to associate stress with worth and accomplishment. If I wasn’t putting out fires or losing sleep over work, did I even matter?

Now:
After beating cancer the first time, I quit my job as a Vice President and took a full year off. When I re-entered the workforce, I deliberately took a director-level role—far below my capacity—so I could prioritize my health. Managing stress has been my hardest lesson. I spent so many years thriving in high-stress environments, where my ability to endure chaos was rewarded financially and professionally. Now, I’m learning to find a balance—challenging myself without burning out. Stepping back in my career and taking a pay cut wasn’t easy, but it gave me the space to heal. My worth isn’t tied to stress, and my success isn’t measured by exhaustion.

Nutrition: Nourishing my body with quality, whole foods.

Before:
At 24—13 years before my cancer diagnosis—I dove headfirst into the natural food space. I was fully committed to eating organic, strictly plant-based, and sharing healthful recipes on my blog. Eventually, I founded a nationally distributed plant-based food company, earning recognition in national press for my work. I was dogmatic, relentless, and convinced that green juice and clean eating could fix anything—like My Big Fat Greek Wedding but with kale instead of Windex.

I stopped listening to my body and instead listened to wellness "experts." When my digestion started to fail, I didn’t question my diet—I just doubled down on supplements and told myself this was normal.

Now:
My diet is more diverse than ever, and my digestion has never been better. I no longer care what health influencers are preaching—I listen to my own body and adjust accordingly. I refuse to follow any one diet or restrict the foods I eat. In fact, I believe that the variety in my diet has been one of the biggest contributors to my improved gut health.

I prioritize organic, whole foods and keep processed foods to a minimum. I don’t drink during the week and rarely on weekends, but when I do, I enjoy a good cocktail (or two). Most importantly, I’m kind to my body. I no longer chase perfection—I focus on feeling good, eating real food, and letting that be enough.

Exercise: Moving regularly and consistently, in ways that feel good.

Before:
Exercise has been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I played competitive tennis, often spending 8+ hours a day on the court during the warmer months. I became accustomed to constant movement, and much like my relationship with stress, I developed an addiction to pushing my body to its limits. I didn’t care that I was elevating my cortisol levels or placing additional stress on my system—I just wanted to feel the burn.

Later in life, I fell in love with beat-based cycling, pushing my heart rate to the max—sometimes going multiple times a day. It was another version of too much of a good thing. Yes, I was working out, but I was also overloading my system, unknowingly negating the benefits of exercise by chronically spiking my stress hormones.

Now:
Rebuilding my cardiovascular health has been a slow process. Instead of thinking about it as "exercise," I now call it "moving my body." This shift in mindset has helped me let go of the need for intense, punishing workouts. Moving my body no longer has to be rigorous or exhausting—it just has to feel good.

I also joined a sauna gym, where I sit in the sauna for 60 minutes, four times a week. It provides a much-needed retreat, especially on weeks when I’m too exhausted for physical movement but still want to do something good for my body. CAR T-cell therapy was brutal, and unlike chemo, I didn’t bounce back quickly.

Much like my approach to food, I no longer listen to influencers, bodybuilders, or the fitness industry at large—I just focus on moving my body in ways that serve me, whatever that looks like on any given day. And just like everything else in survivorship, I expect this to evolve over time. Beating myself up is no longer an option—the goal now is to build myself up.

Community: Nurturing meaningful connections with friends and family.

Before:
We all say we value friends and family, but many of us are just going through the motions—saying what we’ve been trained to say while allocating very little time to actually fostering those relationships. Before cancer, my career consumed my energy.

When I ran my own business, I was working close to 70 hours a week, leaving little time or bandwidth for meaningful connections. When I later ran companies for others, I worked fewer hours, but the toxic environments and constant fire-fighting drained me in a different way. Sure, I might have come home at 5 p.m., but mentally, I had nothing left to give anyone.

Now:
Cancer completely restructured my priorities. I went from flying solo to essentially having my parents move in with me during treatment. For three years, my house was a revolving door of visitors, and my phone was constantly buzzing with texts—reminders that I wasn’t alone. I hadn’t realized just how big my network was; I had simply taken it for granted.

I also had to be brutally honest with myself. If you know me, you know I’m fiercely independent—I’ve always been capable of doing hard things on my own. But the truth is, no trip, no achievement, and no experience will ever be greater than the ones shared with someone else.

Now, I make a conscious effort to nurture my relationships. I’m mindful of how often I see friends and family, and I intentionally carve out time for networking, dinners, and meaningful conversations. I don’t believe you need a massive network, but I do believe in regular engagement. Sometimes that just means working from a coffee shop and striking up a conversation with a stranger. That counts. Connection is connection.

Toxins: Steering Clear of Unnecessary Toxins and Pollutants

Before:
I wasn’t the worst when it came to avoiding toxins—thanks to my background in the natural products space, I was aware of harmful chemicals lurking in home goods and personal care products. But I neglected the bigger picture. I knew toxins could cause damage, but did I fully believe it? Probably not.

I assumed my clean diet could outrun whatever harmful exposures I faced daily. I worked full-time in a textile plant that manufactured polyester batting—the same polyester that filled my closet—and I didn’t give it much thought. I knew the risks, but I didn’t truly believe they applied to me.

Now:
It was a toxin panel that shook me to my core. My diet and exercise were dialed in—so if disease is supposedly driven by poor lifestyle choices, why was I staring death in the face at 37?

Then I saw my lab results: propylene oxide levels at 29,000% above the safe limit. That was my wake-up call. You can read more about that discovery [here], but from that moment on, I knew I had to make a change.

I’m not independently wealthy—I couldn’t just throw everything out and start over. But now, every time I make a purchase, I ask myself: What’s the best choice I can make? And I make it.

• I’ve converted my bed to be 100% polyester-free.

• My closet is now predominantly natural fibers.

• I’ve invested in air purifiers and other ways to reduce my toxin exposure.

And I don’t apologize for caring. As a three-time cancer survivor, I don’t have the luxury not to.

Visualizing the Pie

At least once a week, I take a moment to visualize this pie—a mental check-in to ensure I’m distributing my energy across all five pillars of wellness. I never want to slip back into a life where I pour everything into just one area while neglecting the rest.

When making choices, I constantly ask myself, "How can I make a better one?" I don’t subscribe to an all-or-nothing mentality. Instead, I focus on small, intentional changes—the kind that compound over time into real, lasting transformation. Wellness isn’t about perfection; it’s about balance, and I’m committed to maintaining it.

The Art of Balance

Wellness isn’t a destination—it’s a continuous process of recalibration. I’ve learned the hard way that no single pillar—whether it’s nutrition, exercise, or even ambition—can sustain me on its own. True health comes from balance, from recognizing that every choice we make is either fueling or depleting us.

I no longer chase extremes. Instead, I focus on creating a life where all parts of my wellness pie are nurtured. Some weeks, I get it right. Other weeks, I don’t. But the goal isn’t perfection—it’s awareness, intention, and the commitment to keep showing up for myself. Because at the end of the day, the most important investment I’ll ever make is in my own well-being.