Cancer, my unexpected guru: Thriving with metastatic breast cancer

It was the summer of 2015, and I was feeling on top of the world. I was living in Texas, happily married, and working as a yoga therapist. I had just become certified in a mindfulness practice called The Work of Byron Katie and led my first international yoga retreat in Costa Rica. I truly felt like I had found my calling.

But, instead, I found a lump — an aggressive stage II breast cancer.

Coping with the unimaginable: My journey begins

Even though I was “trained” in peace, I completely lost it during the diagnostic phase. I would lie in bed in my Dallas apartment, yanking the covers over my head, sobbing, and shutting myself off from the world. People in their 30s are supposed to be growing families and careers, not tumors. I felt like an angry, terrified, lonely victim consumed with thoughts like “My life is over,” “My dreams are canceled,” and even more painful, “This is all my fault.”

One quiet morning, sunlight streamed through the window, casting dancing shadows on the white walls. A word hit my mind: ENOUGH. Enough suffering. My downward spiral wasn’t improving my already tough situation.

I decided to take action. I dove deeply into the mindfulness practice I’d trained in, examining the thoughts that filled my mind about cancer. I began questioning my scary cancer BS (belief systems):

• Can I really know it's true that cancer is a bad thing?
• Is it true that my life is over?
• How do I feel when I believe these thoughts?
• Who would I be without them?
• What if the opposite is true – that my life is just beginning? What if cancer opens doors to an even more beautiful life?

By following this practice daily, within a few weeks, my tears of pain transformed into tears of hope. I could see that I was safe in the present moment. My body was strong, the cancer was caught early, and I had an amazing medical team. I even began to realize the gifts that cancer might bring into my life: a chance to be more present, compassionate, and grateful.

Cancer could be my invitation to prioritize self-love and joy. Maybe it would strengthen my relationships, connect me with new amazing humans, and give my career a new direction. What if cancer is happening for me, not to me?

A new mindset

I made a conscious decision not to fight cancer. Instead, I’d welcome it as a wise teacher who can grow me in ways I hadn’t imagined. This mindset carried me through two years of rigorous treatment: aggressive chemo, a double mastectomy, radiation, reconstruction, and years of hormone therapy.

When I was pronounced with “no evidence of disease” (NED), I was overjoyed. But my experience taught me that true freedom from cancer is a state of mind.

The lessons I learned inspired me to make huge changes in my life. I left an unhealthy marriage, moved to Colorado, and published my book, My Guru Cancer, which was inspired by my blog. I started dating again — an unusual experience with weird new body parts — and soon fell deeply in love with a Boulder boy named Tim.

When cancer came back

Just a year later, and two weeks after moving into our first home, chronic low back pain led me to advocate hard for scans.

On May 27, 2021, I was home alone in our new, freshly furnished living room when the phone rang. More than five years had passed since my initial diagnosis.

I was surprised to see my doctor’s number on my cell phone’s screen. “That’s strange,” I thought, “Why is he calling already? My MRI was only 2 hours ago.”

I answered the call, and his first words took my breath away: “Bethany, are you sitting down?”

I stumbled backwards, then lowered my body onto our brown sofa. Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. He said, “There are lesions all over your spine; it looks like the cancer is back. You need to call your oncologist right away.”

My finger pressed “end” on the phone call, as the rest of me remained frozen in complete shock. What. Just. Happened. Then panic set in as I frantically paced back and forth in the living room, trying to make sense of his words. “The cancer is back? Does that mean it’s terminal? Am I dying?”

I immediately called Tim, who was at work. I told him the devastating news. “I’m on my way, baby, it’s going to be okay.”

I felt anything but “okay.” I was completely heartbroken, terrified, furious, and betrayed. “What more do you want from me, life? I did all of the things and even dedicated my career to supporting others. Is this really how my story ends?”

Thankfully, my oncologist made time in her schedule to meet with me during her lunch break the very next day. A PET scan was ordered which later confirmed the cancer had spread throughout my bones, liver, and into some lymph nodes in my stomach.

Stage IV. Incurable. Metastatic breast cancer.

Choosing to “live the f*ck out of life!”

I made a point to tell my oncologist NOT to give me a prognosis or survival statistics – I knew that would mess with my mind, and I am not a number. She reassured me that while my cancer wasn’t curable, it was treatable for many years. I clung to those words, adding “not curable yet,” as an additional lifeline.

I moved through the initial grief by granting myself permission to feel all the feels. I cried for days: under my covers, dry heaving over the toilet, and while driving in my car and walking in nature.

One night, as I wept on that same couch where I got the news, I begged Tim to leave me. I knew from my previous marriage how hard cancer could be on a relationship. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I said. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

He took my hand and said, “I’m so in this with you.”

As Tim and my family provided unconditional support, and my medical team supplied the expertise, I re-focused my energy on clearing my mind of painful assumptions about my future. The fear slowly began to clear. I realized that although I didn’t choose this path, I still had a choice: I could fight this new reality or embrace it. Because whether I like it or not, this is happening.

I renamed my MBC as “live the f*ck out of life!” It’s my diagnosis, my mission, my medicine.

Embracing joy

Since then, I’ve lived more fully than I ever imagined. I’ve traveled to Costa Rica, Mexico, Greece; gone skiing, hiking, snorkeling; and reveled in the beauty of nature and connection with loved ones. I was present for the magical birth of my nephew, and in 2024, I married my best friend. I did not think this life was possible.

I’ve learned to see life through the lens of “I get to”:

• I get to wake up in the morning.
• I get to have access to medical care and treatments.
• I get to have scans and biomarker testing, which always guide me to the best healing path.
• I get to experience the ups and downs, the healing and the progressions, the beauty and the pain.

I get to be alive for all of it.

Even when I fall apart—and I do—I pause and question my thoughts:

• Can I absolutely know these fears are true or will become true?
• Who am I without my stressful thinking?
• What’s the reality right now?
• How might this challenge teach me? How could it be good?

When I ask my heart, I can always find empowering answers. I don’t have to be a victim of cancer. I get to be its student.

Lessons to last a lifetime

While I hope cancer will leave my body someday, and that I’ll be able to grow old, wrinkly, and gray, I know that the beautiful lessons I’ve learned (and am still learning) are here to stay.

Life is beautiful. Wild. Crazy. And so dang precious.