To Cervivor and Tamika

I’m posting this letter here because when I send the actual email to Tamika, the head of the Cervivor Organization, I want my word to be out there, untouched and unedited by someone else who may share them from the original email. This is the last time I’ll mention Cervivor, this is hopefully my closure to an emotionally painful experience.

Dear Tamika,

I swore I’d never talk to you again, but here I am writing you a letter and part of me is wondering if I’ll bother sending it to you. Many of my friends have told me to just try and get over what happened early last year, but that’s not been an easy thing for me to do. I’m hoping that by writing to you and telling you how you made me feel I will maybe get some closure. It’s worth a shot, right?

Part of me doesn’t even know completely what happened. Cervivor had become a big part of my life. Many women I’d felt had become a part of my family, people I could trust. Trust is not something I’ve ever easily been able to hand out, but through the bond that all of us women shared with one another, I felt something I’d never felt before. Acceptance and understanding of what I’d been going through both physically and mentally since going through cervical cancer.

When I was accepted for a scholarship for my first Cervivor School in Louisville I was beyond ecstatic. It was one of the most amazing trips of my life, an experience of connecting to others who I shared so much with. I was proud to be a #Cervivor and felt I’d learned so much about myself and about how I could share my story with others.

Then the Florida school came around and you and Cervivor did me the honor of paying for me to attend once again since I couldn’t personally afford to pay for the trip. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like you all truly cared about me and privileged that you trusted me enough to assist with Cervivor’s social media during the event. It reminded me how truly lucky I was, and once again I met amazing women who quickly became friends.

But months later I found out that it was all a lie, and I honestly still don’t know why. I’ve always thought it was because Mia was still on my Facebook friends list, something I could understand because it seemed so trivial since I wasn’t made aware of anything about her until the night you went “live”. But maybe since I wasn’t willing to toss her aside right away, that’s why you chose to cut me out from something so much to me. Or maybe it was because I didn’t post enough or use #Cervivor enough on my personal social media pages, mostly because I wasn’t comfortable pushing my cancer in everyone’s face every single day. It wasn’t how I wanted my advocacy to be. Or maybe it’s something I really have no idea about at all.

No matter what it was, I’m still hurting to this day because I’ve lost so much trust yet again. I don’t know who my true friends really are when it comes to Cervivor. No one bothered to reach out to me to talk about whatever it was that happened. Not even you, the woman who personally asked me to assist with your social media pages, who invited me to the Florida school, or who asked me on multiple occasions to edit or proofread the very personal stories and blog posts of other cervical cancer survivors. You pushed me aside, threw me away, with zero care or question.

And it wasn’t just me you did it to. There are others that I still call friends and comfort to this day about the pain and stress that was caused by being thrown away like garbage by an organization we cared so much for. And, I have to tell you, if YOU had come to us, messaged us, communicated with us in some way asking to address any concerns you may have had about us, you would have found us to be shocked and heard about how much Cervivor meant to us. You would have realized whatever thoughts or claims you had had were completely false.

But it wasn’t worth it to you. We weren’t worth it to you. You obviously have enough people coming into Cervivor that the handful of us you threw away certainly weren’t enough to harm the organization. It didn’t matter that it was enough harm our spirits and our hearts.

You take on an important job, high upon the pedestal of the Cervivor brand and family. You should not take the heart’s of the women who feel a close personal connection to the organization so lightly. Cancer is a damn difficult disease to go through and the emotional and physical repercussions of the disease don’t just go away. You know that because it’s something discussed at Cervivor school. Yet you ignored it when you harmed some of us by pushing us away.

I do not regret being a part of Cervivor School. I learned so very much about myself from the speakers and from my fellow cervical cancer survivors. Unfortunately, because of you, what I lost was trust and friendship. You may be gaining more Cervivor advocates every year, but you lost some good ones because we obviously weren’t worth the few minutes it would have cost for you to contact us directly and talk about whatever it was that was concerning you. Thanks for that. Thanks for reminding me why I can’t trust. Thanks for taking away from me the friendships I thought I’d gained. I hope you remember that the next time you start thinking of “cleaning house” again.


You Can’t Forget a Whole Group that Made You Cry

I probably shouldn’t say any of this. I probably should just get over what happened earlier this year, let it go. I probably should forget the people who threw me away, hurt me, because it’s “their loss”. And though I know and understand that it’s their loss, it still hurts like a bitch that a group of women … I’m sorry, not just your average group of women … a group of CERVICAL CANCER SURVIVORS preaching advocacy and support, threw me away for no reason and, to this day, ZERO explanation.

As someone who never felt like she fit in not only as an adolescent, but also as an adult, finding Cervivor, a cervical cancer advocacy and support organization, made me feel understood and accepted after going through surgery and treatment in 2009 for cervical cancer treatment. After dealing with the scariest time of my life, this close-knit group of women brought me in, spoke of acceptance, encouragement and sisterhood.

They pulled me in further through becoming an advocate for cervical cancer prevention. They brought me to “Cervivor School” to help me be a better advocate by finding my voice as well as forming bonds with other “cervivors” that formed into friendships. My first Cervivor School I received a scholarship to attend; my second school I was gifted the airfare and hotel stay once again, but this time because I’d agreed to assist with their social media outreach while attending.

I was elated to go. I’d felt empowered by these women because our cancer connected us. Women who’d felt the same insecurities, anxieties, and a wide range of other emotions I’d felt in dealing with my own cancer. I’d bonded with women, sharing my story on a variety of levels, some of which were extremely personal, but their closeness made me feel comfortable and confident. And each time I left Cervivor School, I left with new friends and confidants; women who “friended” me through Facebook to keep in touch. Women who, when I posted on Facebook, would tell me how much they cared about me, and how happy they were that they’d met me. I’d felt the same way for them. I had a group I felt I could turn to. I had the support of women who understood me better than others sometimes could.

As someone who often shut people out, I had let a large group of women into my life based on trust; based on the thought that this group that had gone through similar pains and struggles was a new part of my “family”. Boy was I was fooled.

During my last Cervivor School trip there was an amazing woman who spoke to us about toxic people in our lives and how bad they were for us. At that time, I certainly didn’t realize that some of that toxicity was sitting in the very same room. Some of those women would do anything for the Founder of Cervivor, no matter who got hurt along the way.

Earlier this year, I was removed from a Cervivor Ambassador’s group, a group created for women who’d “graduated” Cervivor School and were on social media and in their communities trying to educate women about cervical cancer by telling their stories and offering information. I’d been involved as an advocate as much as possible, writing on social media and even being interviewed by magazines to tell my story. My abandonment was a sudden overnight change after the Founder came out telling members through a live video that someone who had been part of the group was threatening her and her family. No proof was given of the threats, only words in a live streaming video that some members who were also booted never even got to see because they were in the hospital or just not logged into Facebook late that night. From what I’ve seen, some were removed from a group that was special to us because they were “Facebook friends” with the woman in question, others because they weren’t advocating for the Cervivor cause enough. Either way, there was no message sent to inquire about the facts or to fully alert us of any issue. I woke up the following morning to find I’d not only been banned from a group I’d felt close to, but also unfriended and blocked by not only the Founder, but also by women I’d come to call my friends. They’d thrown me away for a reason that still has not been explained. These women who were part of a support system for cervical cancer survivors blocked out other survivors who called them friends as well. They took our feelings and sense of belonging and tossed them aside. I’m not ashamed to say that I cried when Cervivor threw me away. It felt like a complete abandonment. And to make matters worse, those who still called me a friend, didn’t really care in the long run. Didn’t question the group or the Founder on why not only myself, but others, had been banned and blocked. No one stood up for us and said it was wrong. No one took a moment to say they knew us as friends and knew we deserved better. They watched us hurt for the loss of a support system that they all knew meant a great deal to our lives.

To those who blocked me, tossed me aside during this ordeal, I’m calling you out. You know who you are. You know what Cervivor and our group of ambassadors meant to me on a personal level. You watched me speak about my story during Cervivor School, tears streaming down my face, something I could only do because I felt I was surrounded by friends who understood me; women with enough class to be comforting and supportive towards others who’d faced cancer. You hugged me and told me I’d found my safe place.

You were full of shit. You followed someone else’s lead because, let’s face it, it’s just easier that way, isn’t it? It’s easier not to question the Founder of an organization because they lift you up. They send you goodies. They pat you on the back and make you feel like you mean something. Until you yourself are the target.

I know this because I didn’t stand up for others when I should have. When I listened to others saying things that were untrue or just insensitive to those I’d called friends, I didn’t stand up when I should have either. I’ve apologized to those women and now I’m standing up. Now I’m telling you that you can’t proclaim your friendship for someone, and then just decide you don’t care anymore or that something being said about them is correct without bothering to ask even a stickee question. In a time when women should offer empowerment toward one another, we shouldn’t be knocking one another down. And in an organization that promotes support and empowerment through cancer stories, we should not be such despicable, uncaring human beings as to make others who’ve already gone through so much feel like outcasts. Cancer groups are supposed to uplift, not discourage and cause unjust anxieties (like we don’t have enough anxiety as cancer survivors to begin with).

I’m not asking for these friendships back. However, I keep bringing this up not because I’m unable to get over it, but because the hurt doen’t just go away and what was done was in fact wrong. I bring it up for my friends who were also pushed out and feel the same hurt. I bring it up because these women who hurt us will surely never be our friends again, because even if they wanted to be, how can you trust someone who’s so easily thrown you away, but maybe they’ll think twice about doing it yet another cervical cancer survivor. And if you find yourself in that situation with this same group, feel free to call on me. There’s quite a few of us who’ll be here for you if you ever need someone. I am and always will remain a Cervical Cancer Advocate. I don’t need a group for that.

I’m sorry for those that got rid of me, because it’s true that it’s their loss. You lost a true friend, I only lost a bunch of toxic ones.

It Doesn’t Matter.

Mentally, it’s been a rough couple of months. I’ve dealt with things that have tried my patience, trust and confidence. I’ve struggled with various emotions that vary from angry to upset to anxious. And looking back on all of it, I can’t believe it’s all due to other people’s actions.

As a cervical cancer survivor of three years, I was always looking for support and friendship from other women who’d had similar experiences both during and after cancer treatment. I’d made some friends through various Facebook groups and then came upon an organization that would help me use my cancer story to possibly help others. For almost two years the organization meant the world to me. I put it and its founder on a pedestal, holding in high regard every person I met, befriended and learned from. A few months ago I was removed from the group completely for reasons I still don’t understand (feel free to read about that here) and it truly hurt and angered me. Not only was I removed from the organization (along with a few other remarkable cancer survivors), but the founder, who I’d considered a friend and confidant, completely cut ties with me as did a few other women I’d met, shared feelings with, and called friends. I have happy smiling photos with my fellow cervical cancer “sisters” that I now know were all filled with false care and emotion. Being dropped, being thrown away, without question (and without answers) was extraordinarily painful on many levels. It made me question who my friends were, who I could trust. And it also made me question how fellow cancer survivors could treat one another so horribly. Women who’ve all been through such similar stories, such scary life events, so willing to shit on each other so easily. It’s taken me months to move completely past this, though it still bothers me even though those who hurt me probably never gave it a second thought. But my revelation for today is, in the long run: It Doesn’t Matter.

Recently at work I’ve dealt with some difficult situations. I’m fairly calm at work. I do my job to the best of my ability, get things done on time, and go home to my family. My work is not my life, but I do my best with each project and take pride in what I do. But these last few issues at work have gotten me fired up, which doesn’t happen easily. I was bringing my anger home with me, letting colleagues I didn’t agree with or who were making me feel threatened affect my daily attitude. But yet again, I reminded myself today, the arguments and what others think of me, they just don’t matter.

I don’t like to think about my time going through cancer. It was not an easy thing for me to cope with (when is it ever?). I was unhappy, depressed and terrified. But three years later I am alive, healthy and surrounded by family who love me, a husband who adores me, a child who looks up to me. I AM LUCKY.

These issues that have come into my life are mere hiccups in comparison to what I went through when I found out I had cancer in 2014. These people, these conflicts, are mere tests of life put in front of me to remind me of what’s important in life: my child, my family, and my true friends. I don’t need people who don’t respect me. And I don’t need to do anything to make people like me. If you don’t like me, it doesn’t matter. I was doing just fine before you, and I’ll to just fine without you.

I don’t wish anyone whose hurt or angered me any ill-will (not anymore at least). I do hope they eventually realize how hurtful they were, especially those in the cancer community. Calling yourself a cancer advocate and then adding stress and hurt to a fellow cancer survivor’s life is seriously despicable. It’s those people who should know better about what stress can do to a person’s health and well-being. But I urge anyone dealing with people like this to step back for a few minutes, look at those who’ve hurt them without second thought, and say, “It doesn’t matter, I don’t need you.”

You are a better person without them. Keep moving forward.

Survivor’s Guilt is Real

In January 2017 I wrote a blog post for the Cervivor organization. Since I am no longer affiliated with the organization as of a few months ago, they’ve removed the post. But today on my Facebook “On this Day” memories, I was reminded of my visit three years ago to a cervical cancer friend in Delaware who I’d become very close with. I was lucky enough to witness her surprise wedding and to give her so many hugs. She’s sadly no longer with us anymore, and since then I’ve seen others pass from cervical cancer who were such bright lights in this world. I felt today was a good day to share what I had written last year about survivor’s guilt as it is something so very real, no matter how long any of us have been NED (no evidence of disease).

“We’ve all lost people in our lives, family members and friends who we’ve loved dearly. But when you’re a cancer survivor, the loss of a friend you’ve met from your cancer journey stirs up a different kind of grief. It’s called survivor’s guilt, and it often has a different meaning for everyone.

 In the summer of 2014, when I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, I joined a Facebook support group because I didn’t know anyone who’d ever gone through this type of cancer. I felt the need to find women I could talk to and who were feeling or had felt similar fears and anxieties as I was. The women I met were remarkable and supportive and from that online community I gained a small, but very close group of girlfriends. Women I talked to online every day as I went through surgeries and treatments. Women I shared stories of my life with because our bond became so much more than our cancer.

Just over a year ago, one of my beautiful teal sisters passed away after battling a recurrence. She was an amazing friend who shined brighter than anyone I’d ever met. She lived a few hours away and I had been lucky enough to visit her twice. The first time was for a benefit to help raise money to help her as she underwent treatment. She surprised us all as it turned into a wedding and she stood before us and married the man of her dreams. The second visit was full of sadness as she’d been placed on hospice. It was a difficult visit, but to hug her and hold her hand one more time and share our loving friendship was touching. A few weeks later she passed with her husband by her side.

I think of my friend daily. Cancer brought us together, gave us a friendship that will forever be engraved in my soul. But cancer took her from me, took her from her family. It makes me sad and angry at the same time. As a survivor when you lose someone to cancer, so many questions run through your mind. Why was her cancer worse than mine? Why did cancer take her away? Why am I still here?

Survivor’s guilt makes you wonder what made your diagnosis and treatment different from that of someone whose cancer took them away. You feel guilty because you’re still here to love and be loved, and they have left this world, leaving their loved ones much too soon.

I’m reminded of my friend through old Facebook posts and text messages I refuse to delete. Though I only knew her for a little more than a year, she touched my life in so many beautiful ways. And when I feel that guilt rising up, she somehow brings me strength and lends me some of her shine. She is one of the reasons I became an advocate. The world should not have lost Melissa’s shine because of cancer. I’m lucky to have known her, lucky to feel her love inside me to help me push forward and tell other women about cervical cancer prevention.”

Melissa and her amazing husband Ed on their wedding day.

Here’s to you Melissa McGroerty Fisher. I miss you every single day and will never, ever forget you and how you helped me through the toughest time in my life.

To My Daughter on Her 9th Birthday

Nine years ago I was in labor after waking in the middle of the night with contractions. Nine years ago I was told you were stuck and taken into surgery to have a C-section. Nine years ago I cried when they lifted you up so I could see you and your daddy held you first because I wasn’t able to yet. Nine years ago you came into our world and made it brighter and more promising.

Today, you headed off to school, a special treat to share with your third grade classroom in tow, and an excited smile painted on your face. Today, at exactly 12:36 p.m. you are turning nine. With another year behind us, and so many more ahead, these are my thoughts and dreams for you as you keep growing…

  • You are never going to make everyone happy, so don’t try to. Don’t attempt to be the person they want you to be just to be a part of their group or clique. Be the person your heart is telling you to be. We are all different, and different is good and so much more exciting then being like everyone else.
  • Learn who your true friends are, and fight for them as they would for you. You will come across many people in your life, but it’s the ones who will cry with you when you are sad or stand up for you when someone else is treating you badly that are truly the most valuable in your life. Don’t let those valuable people go, you will regret it later.
  • Concentrate and take the time to learn. The older you get the harder school gets and the more you will want to rush through classwork and homework to do “fun” things. But what you’re learning matters. Through learning our brains grow and thrive. You are already so incredibly smart and the more you learn the more opportunities will unfold for you when you are older.
  • Play and laugh. Hard work is important, but so is fun. Spend time with your friends and be silly. Play a game with your father or me, even if you’re better at it than us (or vice versa). Those moments will create a lifetime of memories.
  • Keep moving forward. Mommy didn’t get that tattooed on her shoulder for no reason. No matter how difficult something may seem, do not let it stop you from pushing through it. It doesn’t matter what it is, you can overcome any challenge. But if it feels relentless, we will help you.
  • Never let ANYONE think you are unworthy. You are exceptional. Know that in your heart. Know that no one has the right to touch you or hurt you. No one has the right to make you feel like you deserve to be harmed. As a young lady, and someday soon enough a young woman, know your worth is great.

You are already so loving and compassionate, far more than others may see right away. I could not be more blessed than to have you as my daughter. You are why I keep moving forward. You are why I keep playing and laughing. You are why I refuse to be anything but myself. You are why I know the true strength of love.

Happy Birthday.


Be an Advocate on Your Terms

About a year or so after my treatment for cervical cancer I came upon a non-profit advocacy group named Cervivor. I started following them on social media and willingly shared my cervical cancer story to their website for them to publish. Since my diagnosis I had been looking for a way to use my story to help other women in some way. Cervivor looked like a great place to move forward in doing that.

And then I learned about Cervivor School, a weekend long event that helps cervical cancer survivors learn how to be better advocates as well as an opportunity to become part of an understanding and supportive community.

In the last two years I attended two Cervivor Schools. The first was in Louisville, Kentucky in 2016. It was exciting to have the chance to go after being selected to receive a scholarship from the organization. While learning valuable information about cervical cancer and HPV (human papillomavirus), I also met women who understood what I had gone through both physically and mentally from cancer. I headed home with a new found confidence in myself and my ability to have my story matter.

When the 2017 Cervivor School came around, I didn’t think I’d be able to attend due to the expense and knew I couldn’t apply for another scholarship after having received one the year before. But in the time since the last school, I’d been assisting the organization by proofreading and editing blog posts and other stories they’d been sent from other cervical cancer survivors. So I was offered the chance to attend Cervivor School in exchange for assisting with social media during the event. I accepted with even more excitement in my heart than the previous year.

So to Florida I went. I was given the passwords to their Facebook, Twitter and Instagram accounts as they trusted me to post on their behalf for the weekend. During that long weekend I didn’t just work. I was invited to sit on a panel and talk about how I coped during my cancer diagnosis and treatment, which was normally way out of my comfort zone. But I was honored to be asked, so I sucked it up and sat up there with other survivors I’d come to know and respect. I made even more friends that weekend and left Florida feeling a heightened sense of community and friendship.

About two months later a post was made in a private group for Cervivor advocates about some dishonesty that was potentially happening with one of the young ladies who’d been part of the group. It was someone I’d spoken to personally a few times since meeting her, and instead of believing everything that was said, I confronted her directly and was given an explanation I was comfortable with. Maybe I was wrong and lies were told, or maybe I was right, but she remained on my social media friends lists even when we hadn’t spoken since October of last year (I don’t feel the need to go through my friends list often).

Fast forward to last week when I thought things were status quo. New allegations were made that shocked and surprised me. But I guess I didn’t move fast enough after they were suggested late one night. I didn’t unfriend or unfollow someone I hadn’t talked with in months and the next morning I was banished. The word banished may sound extreme, but it’s exactly how it felt. Removed from the private group for Cervivor advocates. Blocked from the organization founder’s personal page, the woman who only five months earlier entrusted me with her organization’s social media accounts and website text. And unfriended by women I had once respected and considered friends from what appeared to be a loving community I’d been part of for two years.

No discussion.

No questions asked.

Just thrown away as though my time with Cervivor was meaningless.

I guess someone assumed I was offering information to someone who was a problem. Or maybe I wasn’t fundraising enough or posting about Cervivor enough on social media during the busy holiday months or during my husband’s recent surgery. Either way, to assume anything without talking directly to me feels like a disgraceful misuse of power in what is meant to not only be an advocacy group, but also a loving community for CANCER SURVIVORS. I later found I wasn’t the only one who was pushed out.

But, live and learn, as my mother says. The explanation I’ve written above is for anyone who tossed me aside already without question and for those who are wondering what happened (something I’m still unsure of). Isn’t it good to always know more than one side?

But this post isn’t to tear people away from Cervivor or to tell other cervical cancer survivors not to get involved with the organization. You can find that elsewhere. Though I’m currently sad and feeling mistreated and underappreciated, I’m still happy I was part of Cervivor. Through Cervivor I met some wonderful people who I’m proud to call my friends. And I learned valuable information about cervical cancer, HPV, advocacy and health. And now, no longer part of the organization for reasons still unbeknownst to me, my experience taught me you can’t trust everyone and that friends aren’t friends if they consider you so easily disposable. And lastly, I learned I don’t need a big organization to follow in order to be an advocate and help others. I only need to be me.

So when it comes down to it, the lesson learned is that you can be an amazing advocate as part of a large group or just as yourself. But if you’re part of a group, remember to be true to yourself no matter where the majority may lie. Remember to always be you and to respect other cancer survivors with the understanding of what they’ve already endured, or still are.

Best of luck to all advocates. Make your story matter, if even to one person. You matter.

Keep Moving Forward…

This past week has been difficult emotionally. Sometimes something happens that hurts, but helps you to see the truth in so much. So today I started writing in a journal titled “Carpe Diem”. The writing prompt was “Today I will…” and I wanted to share where it took me:

“Today I will not let others make me feel defeated. I will not let the actions of others who are easily swayed allow me to think that I have done anything wrong by not following the crowd instead of my instincts or my heart.

I will use my cancer story to help others, whether it’s one or one thousand women. I will put pen to paper and bring my words to life. 

I will let the love of my husband, daughter, parents, family and friends give me the extra strength I need to keep pushing forward. I will use that love to follow my dreams to their fullest extent and to stop myself from feeling dismayed or beaten down by those who have no faith in me, because it’s those people who will someday regret pushing me away when they finally see the truth that’s been right there all along.”

Never let anyone or any group make you feel like you are nothing. Always keep moving forward.