Cheers to two thriving years!

Two years ago this morning I got up at the crack of dawn and my mom and I hopped in the car and we were off to UC Medical Center for my journey to begin. Never did I think at the time that there was even a journey to be had. I thought I was going to have surgery, quietly recover and in a few weeks I'd be back to work and life without much else involved. 

Since then, I so fortunately gained a voice in the community, have been given so, so many awesome opportunities to share my story and my life has evolved in such a positive way I can barely put it into words. 

There are so many people I want to thank - for being my supporters and my fighters and my sense of peace when I have a random freakout moment (it happens). I could never say thank you enough or find words for all of you, but I'll try my best:

Thank you to my advocates - my supporters who may be friends, coworkers, friends of our families, long-distance followers to my story, my doctors and BFFs within the UC Medical Center circle and so many more. I continually am amazed at the kind words I receive and motivational pushes that keep me going. I owe so much to all of you! Please know that I appreciate your support every single day. Each and every text, email, call, Sametime makes me remember why I'm doing what I'm doing, and I can continue my mission and work because of you guys.

Thank you to my incredible friends - my high school best friends who have literally been with me longer than I have memory, and that know me better than I know myself. Clearly I haven't always been easy to deal with, but thank you for always being my besties, and continuing our philosophy of being (responsibly) on the loose, always. Thank you to my Bobcat girlfriends - who keep the (crazy) spirit of OU alive every time we get together. We may not be back in the promise land of Athens very often, but I look forward to every time we're together and can laugh about the stupid things we did and friendships we gained back in the days on the bricks. And thank you to my Cincinnati friends - who I am seriously blessed beyond measure that Kev brought you all into my life. I may hate on the excessive amount of Turpin inside jokes, but I'll be an honorary THS alum for the rest of my life if it means I get all of you to stay in mine. 

Thank you to my families - To my mom who is my #1 fan in everything I do. You may have to be because you're my mom, but I appreciate it always and wouldn't be who or where I am today without you pushing me. Between you graciously helping with every little thing I need in life, and Mark willingly hanging every frame, mirror and shelf in our house, I'm confident Kevin and I will survive our first year of homeownership. To Jenny & Liv - for keeping me laughing at all times in life, supporting me 100% and for knowing how retail therapy can sometimes be the only thing to stop tears (cue Easter 2 years ago, sometimes you need a new purse to feel better. Lol!) In all seriousness, I think Dad would be so proud of each of his three girls. And to my new extended in-laws family - I lucked out big time with you guys and I'm so fortunate to have another family who is the epitome of work hard, play hard, love hard.

And to my sweet, sweet Kev - how do I even put into words how much I appreciate you? The reason I was able to go through all of this - the ups, downs and in-betweens - and still feel beautiful after every day, is because of you. I look forward to so many more years of YOLOing and making an adventure out of every opportunity we have. God blessed me big time by crossing our paths in little Athens, Ohio, over a shared love of Ninja Turtle shots at the Crystal and belting out tunes on long car rides. And p.s., most importantly, thanks for dealing with my craziness on a daily basis. You, my dear, are a saint.

So join me in a virtual cheers today! The last two years have been scary, exciting and filled with a whole lot of thriving. And the best part? The journey is nowhere near the end, and there is so much more to come.

Thanks for reading and supporting me and just being part of my crew. This one's to all of you!

Xoxo,
Molly

Giving up would have been so easy

Two years ago this month, I had my first surgery. What you may not know, or not remember now that you've been (so graciously) listening to it for so long, is that at that time, it wasn't this hugely known "thing" I was doing. I hadn't begun shouting it from the rooftops or writing about it or really telling people outside of my circle. It was still scary and unknown and kind of embarrassing.

And then something happened. Somewhere between recovering, being surrounded by so much love and support and getting my life back together, I found my "thing." I found this emotional, empowering platform to stand on and be a voice for other young women that have a strong family history or maybe even have a BRCA mutation, too. I re-found my love for writing and started to feel like what I did and my courage to speak up about it could really be impactful to the lives of so many, rather than just myself.

But it wasn't always easy. Now two years later, it's obviously much more fun to remember all the cool people I've met and experiences I've been able to be a part of, but that wasn't all of it. There were times where I was worried about my scars, literally and figuratively, re-appearing and not always being able to be this extremely positive "you go girl" type person.

I was thinking about this little rut I almost allowed myself to get in, as I was re-reading some of my old blog posts. It really is an energizing thing for me to go back and revisit old stories and posts and times in my life. It's so easy to keep looking ahead, but so much happened, and I'm glad I have a lot of it literally archived.

I wrote a post about the fear of losing my identity, back in January 2015. And as I was reading this one, it kind of made me a little sad. I clearly was having a bit of a hard time adjusting to who I was becoming and where I had been and where I should go next. It wasn't until now, 15 months later, that I'm looking back and thinking, "Wow. I could have so easily just let this go." Of course I ended that blog post on a positive note, keeping that "you go, girl" attitude I so strive to make consistent, but clearly it wasn't enough. 

It wasn't until six months after that downer of a post that I came back to The Molly Effect. Yes, I had bachelorette parties and home-buying and a wedding keeping me busy during then, but I chose to stay away from here. And I know it was out of fear of the unknown. And maybe a little awkwardness. It was hard to get back to writing when I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do next. And to be honest. I don't really know when the switch flipped. But it did.

What I'm trying to get at here is that it would have been so easy to say, you know, I did this "thing" and made this impact and now I'm ready to stop working at it. That would have been so easy and I don't think anyone would have blamed me. But that would have been so, so lame. Little did I know back then that my story was just beginning, and that I had the ability to determine the next chapters ahead.

I'm not anywhere near the ending of my story, but I know I'm glad I kept it going. 

Nearly two years later, I'm finding more ways to make a difference, more ways to share my story and more courage to keep it going.

If you're in a place right now where you feel like giving up or calling it quits just because you can't see where you'll go next or how you're going to get there, I'm going to tell you to hold on. Your best, most compelling chapters of your story could still be ahead, even if they're unclear or not quite ready to be written. I'm telling you this because I'm glad I had people telling me the same thing, and encouraging me to not be done just yet.

And to all my advocates out there, thanks for keeping me afloat and continually empowering me to find my next "thing," and also to keep this one going. I'm so grateful for all that's happened in the last two years, and am excited that soon I'll have even more new pieces of my story to share with you here (fun projects in the works!) Until then, I'll just keep jogging down memory lane, brainstorming and daydreaming my next few chapters (and blog posts). 

Hang in there. I'm so glad I did.  Xoxo,
Molly

It's about 35 degrees this morning in Cincinnati, so let's also flashback to much warmer (and the happiest!!) times in Jamaica on our honeymoon last June. Cheers to spring weather hopefully arriving soon!

Fearing to ask the question: Am I losing my identity?

It's been more than a year since I first decided to move forward with my prophylactic mastectomy, more than 3 and a half years since my dad passed away, and just shy of 6 years since I tested positive for the BRCA1 genetic mutation. And the craziest throwback of them all? The very last part of my surgery and reconstruction was complete just nine days ago. So the obvious (at least to me) question presents itself: Is it all over? Is the person I've become throughout this journey ending her reign of breast cancer Previvor queen? And the scariest question of all: Who am I now? The short answer is that I am changed. Physically, emotionally, I am a changed woman. Having to deal with physical trials and pain for pretty much the first time in my life was hard, though it made me realize how strong you can be when you need to, and how minimal my pain and trials were, compared to if I would have gotten sick, and not had this as a preventative procedure.

God love one of my BFFs for being the one friend that always asks you the "what was your best and worst of the last year" when it's your birthday type questions. I'm lucky enough that my crew of best friends celebrated my reconstruction completion this past weekend, and naturally, at dinner, this BFF posed the question to both Kevin and I of "what, when now looking back, are we surprised about now that this whole ordeal is complete?" Kev's answer was frighteningly so true: When we look now at those we've either met over the last few months, or even just seen from afar, that are fighting the battle of breast cancer, and especially at such a young age, it definitely scares us straight. The few months of struggles were 100% the right choice, for both of us. My odds were just simply not in my favor, and I did something to fix that. I can't predict the future, but I can say with confidence that I lowered my risk of becoming one of those statistics.

Emotionally, I've been on a roller coaster. I'd say most of the time I've been on top of the ride, able to use this experience as a positive one, staying confident and optimistic. But there were some days I went down the hill and struggled to climb back up. I took things out on people who didn't deserve it, I avoided others, and sometimes let myself get down. But now looking back, I think it was all deserved. I deserved a day or two to be hurting, emotionally or physically, and I deserved to be mad that I had to miss out on something, or mad at the forgotten friend who didn't reach out. It made my skin a little thicker, and gave me the ability to climb myself back to the top of the ride and realize all of the good things and good people I have in my life. I did not come out bitter, I can promise you that.

I guess I'm most scared of losing the identity of the person I've become. I've always had some type of added identity, not necessarily by choice, but always there. Whether it be the girl in the sorority who's dad is sick, the girl with the weird genetic thing or now the girl who had the mastectomy. And I'm not mad about it. If anything, it's helped shape who I am to myself and who I am to others, hopefully in a pleasant light, for overcoming these situations. But, it is scary, thinking I'm losing something that's helped give me a confidence, or a motivation to be better and to do better.

So the silver lining? There is still so much more to share, so many more lives to touch and hopefully many more lives to save. My work now is not just who I am, but my mission. Because now I've done more than share my story and journey as I've gone through it. I've actually overcome it and have the ability to move forward. And I'm going to at least let myself believe that's more than a stigma, or even an identity. My mission is powerful, and now I have even more time to dedicate to serving that mission (and plan a wedding while I'm at it).

So thank you, each and every one of you that reads this, that has supported me all along the way and has shown me love in such beautiful gestures. It's because of that support, love and faith that I can say I am finished with this stage of my journey, and am incredibly happy with the new, healthy and refreshed person I am.

It's not over, it really is just a new beginning and a time to fight for other young high-risk women to have a louder voice in the world. I don't have to be scared (for long at least) that the person I am is changed, but proud of who I have been and am now, because that pride is something that can carry forward.

So I hope you continue to follow the next steps of my journey, because as I said, there is much more to share, and much, much more to come.

Xoxo, Molly

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.” - Maya Angelou

Because, YOLO: Being Queen Bee for the day!

"It's better in life to look back and say 'I can't believe I did that' than to look back and say 'I wish I did that.'" Tomorrow I will be participating in my second half marathon. The Cincinnati Queen Bee is a women-focused half and 4-miler, and tomorrow is the inaugural race. More importantly, tomorrow is MY inaugural race with my new body, and fresh outlook on life. Flash back to spring of 2013 and my first half marathon. It was something myself and a few friends did together and was awesome, but it definitely wasn't easy. (I'm waiting for Maria to read this and text me asking if I've lost my mind!) But let's get real, if I can deal with two surgeries in six months, I can run a few hours on a Saturday morning.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on running the whole thing or breaking any records, and I really haven't had a ton of time to train (physically and in regards to my more-important social calendar) since I've been cleared to get back to regular workouts, so I'll be doing the best I possibly can by run/walking it. Since I was able to start going back to the gym, I've tried my best to make working out more of a fun routine. Dragging friends to the gym at 6 a.m. so we can gossip while stair-stepping, going on walks with a BFF and her dog to Coffee Emporium on Fridays and running outside or at the gym on the treadmill as a way to decompress from a long day while listening to a lot of Mat Kearney. It's been fun, and kept me in pretty good shape. So really, why not take on another half marathon?

When it comes down to it, my reason for doing it is both simple and admittedly selfish: to show myself that I can. I want to show myself, and other young women who may be in similar shoes, that the surgical decisions I made in the last year did not take away my ability to stay in shape, be healthy or the possibility of coming out on top. You don't have to bounce back to win triathlons or climb mountains, but having a goal and sticking to it can be as rewarding as the medal at the end of the race.

So wish me luck that this simple, selfish idea of mine proves successful. But hey, a little self affirmation never hurt anyone. #YOLO

Xoxo, Molly

Throwback Thursday: Edition 1, The Bed on the Couch

When thinking of which memory I wanted to write about first for this new Throwback Thursday topic, it was obvious to me, but I had a little apprehension I'd embarrass him. Looking back at the last two months, and even the last year or two, there was one person that surprised me. He didn't always jump to say, "Yes, let's 100% do this and do it now! No problem!" but he also never once told me to hold back or re-think my decision. He forced me to have conversations about it, to really talk about how the process would work, what the end result would (hopefully) look like and what OUR, not just my, future would look like. Disclaimer: He has no idea I'm writing this and probably no idea I remember this story enough to write about it (the pain meds and my emotions that day were enough to erase any amount of memory). So as you read this, say a prayer that his face isn't turning the color of his hair. Those of you who know him know he's not a huge fan of spotlight unless it's on the karaoke stage, but even if he never admits it, I know he was secretly loving his two minutes of fame on Channel 5.

So this story begins day nine post-surgery, but the real story began just about five years ago. Kevin and I met in college at Ohio University, the "promise land" of the best four years of our lives, and a place that I'll never quite be able to explain to an outsider. We had a little more than two wonderful, crazy years together there and were lucky enough to both call Cincinnati home after graduation. But during all the parties and chaos of college fun, I was also dealing with spirts of challenging times, with my dad's health roller coasting from bad to good, to bad to OK, to the end. Through it all Kevin was there. Giving up weekends senior year to come home with me, skipping out last minute on the Hilton Head Island trip (along with the rest of my amazing friends) to attend the funeral. He truly never left my side. It's because of this that I should have known he'd be the stability I'd need during the decision making process of this surgery, and through the recovery.

I was interviewed a few weeks ago on 700WLW about my surgery. There was one question I'll admittedly say that threw me for a loop. "How could your fiancé  be OK with a surgery like this, when men are known to be attached to these things?" My answer was simple. It takes a strong man to handle something like this and to support the decision. And I think that strength in him, and our relationship, is what has gotten us through. It was not easy. It was not a simple "let's do this" and move on kind of decision. It took conversations, research and faith to get to where we are today. A lot of people are fascinated by the "engaged couple" part of our story. That here we are planning a wedding while going through this. The truth is I believe we're more capable of planning a wedding now than we would have been otherwise. Conversations about wedding venues, flowers and photographers seem a whole lot easier after discussing mastectomies, doctors, reconstruction and recoveries.

I'm blessed beyond belief to have someone like him in my life, for all those supportive and loving qualities. I'm even more lucky that after all the trying times we have been through, especially lately, we've been able to come out on top. It was during my recovery period that I realized how great he would be throughout the rest of my life. It's the little things that surprised me. And it's this little story below, written in these exact words on day nine of my recovery, that I'm so glad I documented so I can remember. And it's this I'll continue to remember throughout the rest of our lives.

Day Nine: To remember about this day: asking Kevin to help me replace the band aids and antibiotic ointment on my drain spots and having a sudden emotional breakdown of massive amounts of tears, out of nowhere (probably exhaustion). And returning from blowing my nose in the bathroom, to the couch being completely made into a snuggly bed for my comfort, all thanks to my loving fiancé who I sometimes forget to thank. For his patience, understanding and pure love for me and all the craziness that comes with me. Remember that bed made on the couch.

Xoxo, Molly

Note: Throwback Thursdays will continue to be an ongoing series, with new posts every other week (on Thursdays, duh.) I want to use these as a way to shed light on my experience, while also showing appreciation to those who got me through it. Maybe some of them will even be humorous :) I hope you enjoy these memories I documented during the preparing for and recovering from my double mastectomy.