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By Sophie Pumphrey COMMUNITY | BREAST CANCER STORIES “I miss being normal,” I tell my therapist. I miss not having to deal with the fallout of breast cancer. I used to feel like I had no time to myself as a mom and full-time employee. Then I got cancer and added another role. Cancer Patient. Your initial introduction to this role, to use corporate speak, is like drinking from the fire hose. It requires excellent multitasking skills, like trying to seem normal at work while feeling the hot breath of mortality on your neck. And exceptional organization skills, like remembering to give all the teachers at preschool a holiday gift while contemplating major surgery, chemo, and radiation. When you get a diagnosis like cancer, your brain tries to reason and blame. What could it have been that caused this?! Breast cancer has been rising at an alarming rate in women under 40, and I’m sure there is research underway trying to pinpoint exactly what could be going on. But for the next few years while we wait for the result of their research, I am left wondering. Was it the Four Loko? For those of you who can’t remember (who can blame you), Four Loko was a malt beverage with caffeine. You may still see Four Loko in your local corner liquor store, but this is a weakened caffeine-free version. Original strength Four Loko, along with Sparks, paired very well with sweaty warehouse parties, punk shows in basements, and frat parties. Four Loko was a blip of time in my life, but what about the other blips, did they cause my cancer? Was it from swimming in an almost certainly polluted lake every summer from prepubescence until my late 20s? Was it the cigarettes I bummed outside of shows? Was it eating hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on that camping trip with my friends? Of course, there are the regular culprits that run through my mind. Alcohol? Birth control? Processed foods? But those themselves don’t really tell the story of a life lived. Yes, I went water-skiing in the Ohio River next to barges filled with coal. Yes, I ate gas station fried chicken after a night of staying up late with my fellow 20-somethings. Yes, I did say yes to another beer. Yes! I’m very familiar with the keyboard warrior types. The type that would leave a comment here to say, “Yes! You did it to yourself!” There is a special kind of judgment that only someone hiding behind a keyboard can have. News outlets love to publish articles like “5 Ways to Prevent Breast Cancer” with prudent lifestyle choices like: exercise, don’t drink, don’t be stressed, eat less meat, and don’t smoke. I can imagine that there are people out there that adhere to these rules like a religion. Nothing bad can happen to you as long as you follow these 5 holy tenants. And for the rest of us scumbags, we got what we deserved. I’m not sure about you, but I wasn’t thinking about almost 40-year-old me when I was drinking a 40. I wasn’t all bad, though; I did cook at home. I did go to the gym and go jogging. I used aluminum-free deodorant. I drank seltzer instead of soda. And I ate a lot of salad. I posted my Four Loko question on my breast cancer online support group, and the comments that followed were an exposé on women who were out living life fully. One commented, “Once in college I accidentally spilled a little Ajax in the kofta that I served to my study group. That was what did it for sure.” Many commenters suggested that it could have been from putting phones in their bras when they didn’t have pockets. That thread went as far as to blame the patriarchy for their lack of pockets and therefore their breast cancer. Doctors hate this one weird trick to prevent cancer. Pockets! The comments were almost like a confessional of stupidity, and it warmed my heart. There was so much to blame. Like rolling cigarettes in toothpaste, having an older sister who punched you in the boob, getting nipples pierced, and being from Wisconsin. The post and the question struck a chord in a space that is often full of not-so-fun questions. What do I need to buy to be comfortable after my double mastectomy? Should I get nipple reconstruction? The side effects from this drug are wearing me down, is it worth staying on it? What happens if I don’t do chemo or take endocrine therapy? Is it coming back? The post-cancer diagnosis life is hard. Before the cancer diagnosis, I felt healthy. I didn’t feel sick at all. I had a lump that was kind of painful, but not at a level that made me very concerned. I was reassured countless times by my doctors that I was too young for breast cancer, and besides, I didn’t have the family history. Now, one double mastectomy and 15 rounds of radiation later, I’m taking endocrine therapy drugs that cause intense pain in my feet and hands, and I feel like I’m 100 years old. I’ve been thrown headfirst into medically-induced menopause. Yes, I have less estrogen than your grandma. I am so achy every time I stand up, I hobble for the first 10 or so steps. I get hot flashes, my hair is thinning out and my skin all over is dry as sandpaper. I’m. So. Tired. Don’t ask me if I’m irritable. I am on these therapy drugs for 10 YEARS, and I had the thought recently that my youthful painless days are numbered. By the time I get off these drugs, I’m going to be old and in pain again. These drugs aren’t prescribed only to torture me, though; doctors and science have saved my life. Even having the ability to reduce my risk of recurrence is a miracle that women of the past would have certainly wished for. Believe me when I say, I will gladly take the pain of being on endocrine therapy over certain death, and I would do it 100 times. I will push through the pain and work hard to stay on my medications. As grateful as I am for the medicine to prevent recurrence, I am not without complaints. The treatments for hormone-positive breast cancer are almost like they are designed to destroy your love life. If you have a partner, you’re up to your own devices on how to have sex with a withered, dry vagina. It’s your responsibility to figure that out. Your oncologist may not tell you about this side effect. “Have you tried coconut oil?” Coconut oil: the multi-tool of the wellness world. Moisturizer, hair mask, salad dressing, and apparently, marital aid. Does it reverse vaginal atrophy? No! But thank you to my radiation oncologist for the friendly suggestion. If you are dating, well, now you have to figure out when to tell someone you had breast cancer. The first date? The third? Do you tell someone you just started seeing, “By the way, I’m infertile, and also I might get cancer again and die. How’s your soup?” The cruelty never stops. So, we are left wondering. As other commenters on my support group post asked, “Was it because my favorite party trick was sticking two lit cigarettes in my nostrils?” “Because I got my nails done every three weeks?” “Was it because in college I carved a hole in my couch’s arm and made it into a giant bong using empty baby food jars?” “Because I wasn’t vegan?” “Because I didn’t love the lord?” The answer is yes, we did do this to ourselves. It was caused by our life decisions as much as it was by random bad luck. Humans do not live in a vacuum; we live out in the world in an environment that we can’t always control. Everyone I know is trying to do the right thing for their health. They drink the green juice, they fast, they try the keto diet and walk 10,000 steps a day. They think that if they do this or that, they will be protected from an early demise. But we are fragile, and sometimes fate intervenes. We want to use science and facts to find blame because blame feels safe. Blame is the answer to the unanswerable. But blame doesn’t change reality, and it does not make cancer go away. As a cancer patient, we are often a victim being blamed for something that we did not entirely cause. If you got lung cancer after decades working in a printing shop, is it your fault? Should you have found a better job? I’ve seen reports that say even sitting at a cushy desk job all day may cause rectal cancer. What could be the least cancery career? We live in reality and can’t 100% adhere to the perfect lifestyle. Even if we could eat 10 cups of blueberries a day and exercise 300 minutes a week, your cancer risk is never 0%. Biology is always a factor. One maladjusted cell and poof, cancer. At one unpleasant visit with my oncologist, she revealed to me that cancer is really only cured if you die from something else first. How uplifting! I can’t wait to put that on a bumper sticker with a pink ribbon. I see the narrative that cancer is preventable. It gives the illusion that we have control over our meat sack bodies in ways that we don’t. They can tell us that we have cancer but can’t say exactly what caused it. But, if I knew what caused it, would it make a difference? I wouldn’t be able to go back in time and take back the naughty things I did, and I would still be sitting here with menopause-induced insomnia and breast implants, and scars, and radiation tattoos and pain. It was never just from microwaving soup in a plastic bowl or loving the smell of fresh gasoline in the morning. It was life. Being alive may cause cancer. Being alive may also cause family, friends, or pets. Being alive may cause drowsiness, weird rashes, and grief. Being alive may cause love. Ask your doctor if Four Loko is right for you. Read More: The Role of Hormones in Breast Cancer Addressing the Unique Challenges of Breast Cancer in People Under 40 The Power of Knowledge (My BRCA Story) Breast Cancer and Fertility Navigating Relationships After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis Managing Fatigue During Breast Cancer Treatment Questions to Ask Your Doctor After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Episode 299. The Messy Middle of Breast Cancer: Chemo, Surgery, Side Effects, and Survivorship Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story Connect with SurvivingBreastCancer.org Podcast Weekly Meetup Free Events

By Melinda Stumpp COMMUNITY | BREAST CANCER STORIES There comes a moment when your life divides into before and after. For me, it was a shower on September 7, 2024. The water was running. Steam blurred the mirror. It was an ordinary morning until it wasn’t. I rinsed my hair and my hand paused. I felt a lump. I had breast augmentation at nineteen. I knew my body. At thirty-seven, I knew this was different. It was not panic. It was not fear. It was instinct. A steady, undeniable knowing. My GP told me it was nothing. He told me not to worry. But something inside me was louder than reassurance. Louder than dismissal. And here is the defining moment of my life: I listened to it. I asked for the mammogram prescription. I walked into the cold imaging room wearing a paper gown that never quite closes. The machine hummed. The technician adjusted angles. Silence stretched between images. Then the phone rang. Phones do not ring in those rooms for good reasons. Before anyone said a word, I knew it. On October 1, 2024, the first day of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I was diagnosed with triple negative metaplastic breast cancer, a rare one percent subtype. The words were clinical. Aggressive. Limited data. I did what everyone did. I googled it! And what I saw looked like a verdict. Survival curves. Statistics. Very little that felt human. Sitting there staring at that screen, I felt the weight of those numbers. And then I felt something else. If this is what women see when they search, then we need to change what they see. Cancer could change my body, but it would not take my identity. It would not take my voice or my chance to contribute to research. Chemotherapy tested that promise. It stripped me down physically and emotionally. There is nothing glamorous about chemo. Humor became my armor. If I could laugh in the infusion chair, I could survive almost anything. Four months after finishing treatment, just as I was beginning to feel steady again, my house burned down. Not metaphorically. Literally. I stood outside watching flames swallow everything physical. Documents. Photos. The proof of who I had been. Smoke in the air. Sirens cutting through the night. A life reduced to ash in real time. For a moment, it felt like everything was being taken. And then something settled inside me. If I could survive cancer and stand here watching this, I could survive anything. People say I shouldn’t be here. That statistically, medically, situationally, the odds were not in my favor. But I am standing here. No evidence of disease. Alive after a fire that could have taken more than possessions. I do not believe in luck alone. I believe it is mentality. It is instinct. It is a community. It is people who show up. It is laughter when everything feels heavy. Triple negative metaplastic breast cancer is rare. But rare does not mean hope. Rare means we speak. Rare means we study. Rare means we refuse to let Google define our future. I am participating in research. I am building advocacy. I am choosing, for the rest of my life, to contribute to this subtype so that the next woman who feels that lump does not open her laptop and feel doomed. Statistics are data. They are not destiny. The most defining moment of my life was not the diagnosis. It was the decision. The decision to trust myself when I was dismissed. The decision to speak when the room was quiet. The decision to rebuild when everything burned. You can lose your hair. You can lose your home. You can lose the life you thought you were living. But you do not have to lose yourself. I trusted my instinct, and that choice is why I am still here. Read More: The Role of Hormones in Breast Cancer The Impact of Breast Cancer on Self-Image Scheduling Worry Time: A Technique to Control Your Anxious Mind On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Episode 308. Can a Blood Test Detect Breast Cancer Recurrence? Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story Connect with SurvivingBreastCancer.org Podcast Weekly Meetup Free Events

By Jessi Lord COMMUNITY | BREAST CANCER STORIES How cancer ended my lifelong habit of leaving myself There are myriad ways to experience an awakening. I don’t believe we have just one during our lifetime, but many moments when the life we’ve built can no longer contain the truth of who we are becoming. This is because we are living not only as bodies moving through the material world, but as souls continually remembering who we have always been. Some awakenings arrive as quiet, almost imperceptible whispers of recognition. Others come as seismic shifts shaking us awake in a way that alters the course of our life forever. But both provide energetic rememberings of who we have always been. What followed my breast cancer diagnosis was not just survival - it was an unraveling, a reckoning, and ultimately, an awakening. What I couldn’t have known was that breast cancer would uncover a life that had been waiting beneath the one I thought I was living. I thought breast cancer would ask everything of my body. I had no idea it would ask everything of my soul. I hadn’t yet realized that my body surviving a full year of treatment would only be the beginning of my healing and that I would spend the next year learning how to inhabit it again. I had faced my greatest fear while in active cancer treatment. I came to understand how I would get through the physicality of it because of the advice from a wise retired oncologist, who was a dear friend of my late mother’s. He was my first phone call after I received the pathology report from the diagnostic biopsy. I asked him to help me understand the biology of the cancer I had and my options for treatment. The report said that I had triple-negative breast cancer. Unlike many other breast cancers, mine wouldn’t respond to hormone therapy or other targeted treatments like surgery right out the gate. There were no alternative paths to weigh, no decisions between different medications. From the very beginning, the plan was six months of weekly chemotherapy and immunotherapy infusions, followed by surgery, and finally radiation. Most of us have seen the physical transformations that can happen during chemotherapy whether in the movies or in real life as so many of us know someone diagnosed with breast cancer. The hair loss, becoming nauseous and weak and frail, sitting for hours at a time in an infusion room. Yet, how would I be able to do it? After a career of treating thousands of cancer patients, the retired oncologist informed me with absolute certainty: “There is no better survivor than a young mother. This is not a fight,” he said, “this is about curing your cancer. Remember… this is not a sprint, this is a marathon.” Deafening silence and a tidal wave of awareness of what he was saying hit me straight in the heart. There it was - all the motivation that I needed accompanied by the undeniable necessity to dig deep for the endurance I would need for the year ahead. Because he was right. There is no stronger force of energy than the strength and determination of a young mother. I had a daughter to live for; I embodied that archetype. When treatment was all over and with each passing week, I found myself spending less time at the cancer center, surrounded by one of the most supportive communities that I have ever been a part of, and more time alone with myself. And as the noise of treatment quieted, something within me grew louder and impossible to ignore. I was feeling confused, lost, circling and spinning in my efforts to make it back home to myself after what I had just been through. I felt small whispers of a loss, of a grief; tears would flow uncontrollably, sometimes out of nowhere like on a drive to a dentist appointment. These small shifts of release in my nervous system gradually grew in intensity and scale and the need to express what I was feeling became louder. I had read deeply about trauma and had come to understand the ideas presented in The Body Keeps the Score, and how trauma is stored in the body. Throughout my life, I adapted to trauma by becoming exquisitely attuned to everyone else’s needs while growing increasingly disconnected from my own. Hypervigilance became my normal. My nervous system never truly believed it was safe, so I ran, exercised, numbed with substances, withheld joy, and silenced my own voice for fear that expressing it would cost me connection with, honestly, anyone. I certainly had no idea what I needed to regulate my nervous system and definitely had no idea how to express my wants and needs with words. During a somatics-based alcohol recovery program during COVID, I raised my hand in genuine confusion. “Wait,” I said. “What do you mean when you say regulation means feeling safe in your body?” The Zoom room grew quiet as I heard myself say the words that surprised me most: “I didn’t know that.” It was one thing to know I was entering a whole new chapter of healing trauma in my life. It was another thing to actually walk through it. I couldn’t wait for perfect clarity on how to begin this new chapter, so I reached for a familiar coping technique. I immediately went back to work at the tail end of treatment thinking that this is the normal thing to do. Check! I took everyone’s encouragement as confirmation that I was doing exactly what I should be doing. Check again! Boy, was I proud of myself for diving right back in! My first day of my new job was my last day of radiation! Go me! But in hindsight, I confused everyone else’s encouragement with my own readiness. It actually was not something I was ready for. I was beginning to recognize a deeply conditioned pattern within myself: I had made another major life decision based on what I believed I should do rather than what I actually needed. At this point, the bouts of uncontrollable crying were happening nearly daily. Usually I could get back to myself with breath, sound, grounding on the grass, and other somatic techniques I had learned. It wasn’t quite evident to me yet that there was something deep inside me loosening its grip on me. But I was able to verbalize that I hadn’t felt depression like this since I was a young teenager - some of the darkest and most emotionally traumatic times of my life. I could only describe it by saying: “I don’t know how to find my way back home to myself.” Every coordinate I had once used to navigate my life no longer pointed me home. I was struggling. My dysregulated nervous system escalated from being overwhelmed to an all-consuming chronic state. I could not settle. It felt as if every internal compass I had trusted suddenly stopped working. I kept searching for language, an analogy that might come close to explaining what I was experiencing. The comparison that came to mind surprised me. I almost dismissed it before I allowed myself to say it out loud. “I feel real compassion for veterans,” I heard myself saying. The words hung in the air while I found myself wondering if survivorship carried its own version of that impossible transition. “They go off to war,” I wailed to others. “They see life-changing devastation and experience incredible trauma and upon their return to civil life, they are told: ‘Thank you for your service!’ with the expectation to just navigate seamlessly back into society. Can you even imagine!?” I heard myself yelling. But, they couldn’t understand the shared psychological challenge of returning to ordinary life after an extraordinary experience that I was trying to describe. Despite having just escaped death, I was told something similar: “You must be so happy to get back to normal!” But every time I heard that, I could not believe it, not even for a second. What those around me didn’t understand (aside from my ‘breasties’ on a WhatsApp thread that we used to bare ALL the brutal details of navigating our cancer journeys) was that there is no going back to “normal.” There would be no normal. It simply did not exist. After I saw, endured, and felt all the physicality of being a cancer patient, what I was experiencing now was the emotional backlash, the PTSD of surviving breast cancer - the lonely, confusing work of finding my way home after an experience that had forever changed my internal landscape. I felt alone with those closest around me. I was having dark thoughts of what the point of life was. The trauma of the medical experience I had just survived was catching up with me; slowly sneaking up on me, quietly behind my back. I’d turn around to see what was there and it would freeze… and upon turning back around it would quietly leapfrog closer to me, anxiously reaching and grabbing for my energy to pull into its darkness. I called my doctor for pharmacological intervention. For a while, I could keep its relentless grip at bay. I could feel it rising, but I could still meet the world with composure. Until one day I couldn’t. It happened in my kitchen with my boyfriend standing just a few feet away. What unfolded is difficult to describe in ordinary language. The closest words I have are Eckhart Tolle’s. It felt like my pain body took over, as though something long buried had finally demanded to be felt. I entered a dissociative, panic-filled state unlike anything I had ever experienced. A wave of panic consumed me. My breathing became ragged. I was confused. My boyfriend later told me my eyes looked different - dark, almost vacant. I remember pleading with him to let whatever was happening run its course. I believed my body was doing something it had been trying to do for decades: release what it had carried for far too long. I remember very little of what I said that day. Only the overwhelming certainty that I could no longer outrun what had been living inside me. Whether it was trauma releasing through my body, a nervous system overwhelmed by everything it had endured, or both, I knew one thing with absolute clarity: this wasn’t only about cancer anymore. 16 months after my original diagnosis, I took a necessary retreat to step away from the demands of daily life. I spent my time focused on meditation, yoga, and a workshop on the art of future-making. The structure of the retreat allowed my nervous system to relax and helped me find the grounding and clarity I needed to see what must change in my life. As I began to gain this clarity, I felt the familiar pull of fear and the ego trying to keep me anchored in old, unhealthy patterns. That hook to remain in old unhealthy patterns is what the ego is very good at doing. When it senses that you are remembering who you have always been and are initiating any kind of move towards the seat of your soul, it bears down. Your ego will tell you to remain hidden from the world and will guide you to relapse into the toxic patterns of your suffering. This is because the ego’s greatest fear is your soul waking up. It takes immense courage to witness your ego’s thoughts without being consumed by them any longer. It’s not for the faint of heart to question the story you’ve been telling yourself. For most of my life, I allowed those false narratives to run my operating system even though for the past ten years I had been attending a Tibetan Buddhist sangha in my local community. I would dutifully go twice a week to hear dharma talks, meditate with the deities, learn about the true nature of my original mind, and practice remembering who I have always been. Despite that active spiritual practice, my ego would still interpret the motives of others as mean or harmful, my nervous system responding to their actions as if the emotional abuse I experienced as a child was occurring again. But the door to clarity was cracking open. I could hear my soul guiding me to step into this other way of being that I had dedicated my practice to. It was time I stepped into this frequency that I had always known in my wisdom mind. A place where I could open my heart, see the pure perception and recognize that truth reflected back to me. I could finally tell myself the story my heart and my soul had always known was true. I had learned to advocate for my physical needs while I was in medical treatment for cancer. I went into that journey being the best advocate that I could be for myself. It was very clear very early on that I would have to both advocate for myself and surrender to the experience and knowledge of my team of oncologists. But now I was coming face to face with the mental wounds from the cancer journey - and now the healing wasn’t about fixing what was broken. And healing wasn’t about becoming someone new. It was about becoming someone I had never been allowed to be. If I finally faced the emotional journey that cancer had uncovered, I knew it would lead me to the very roots of my trauma. It was there that I could finally apply the salve to old wounds - to lovingly tend to the little girl who had spent so much of her life believing she had to earn love by abandoning herself. In caring for her, I began learning what it meant to care for myself, to become whole. And with pure clarity, I now understood that it was only from that place of wholeness that I could truly be in right relationship with others. Once I understood that my greatest responsibility was no longer just advocating for my body, but for the little girl who had always lived within it, everything began to change. I wanted to show her that I was here now - that she would never again have to navigate the world alone. That together, we would build a life spacious enough for joy. And that, little by little, she could learn to let it in. This summer, she and I are traveling across the world together. We will sit among women devoted to healing, walk barefoot along the shoreline, and spend long days beside the ocean where she has always felt most alive. For the first time in my life, I am not trying to become someone else. I am simply becoming the safe place she has been waiting for all along. ​I am coming to terms with the hard truth that tending to my own needs affects others who were used to my self-abandonment. It will take courage to assert what I need, but I know it is the only way to refill my own cups and to maintain healthy relationships. I’ve realized that life after cancer is forcing me to stop surviving in the ways I did long before my diagnosis. Cancer stripped away my old coping strategies and exposed the ways I had learned to abandon myself. Now, as a 48-year-old survivor who navigated chemotherapy, immunotherapy, surgery, followed by radiation, and the menopause that came alongside, I am committed to structuring my life in a way that truly works for me. I used to think surviving cancer meant getting my life back. I know now that there was no life to go back to. For years I believed I was searching for myself. It turns out that she had been waiting patiently for me to come back and get her. Oh Mary, I finally get it, this is what I will do with my one precious life! Somewhere along the way, I had mistaken survival for direction. I wasn’t lost because I lacked a map. I was lost because I had spent so many years navigating by everyone else’s compass instead of my own. And perhaps that was the awakening all along - that cancer had ended my lifelong habit of leaving myself. Read More: Understanding Your Pathology Report: A Comprehensive Step-By-Step Guide The Role of Hormones in Breast Cancer The Impact of Breast Cancer on Self-Image How Cancer Trauma Can Impact Your Life and Ways to Move Forward EFT and Brainspotting: Complementary Therapies for Breast Cancer Recovery On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Episode 306. Can Breathwork & Ayurveda Support Healing After Breast Cancer? Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story Connect with SurvivingBreastCancer.org Podcast Weekly Meetup Free Events

Reiki Circle of Care Reiki is a gentle, hands-on energy healing practice that promotes relaxation, reduces stress, and supports overall well-being. Especially helpful for those navigating breast cancer, Reiki can ease pain, anxiety, and fatigue while restoring balance to the body and mind. Experience the calming benefits of Reiki as part of your healing journey. Multiple Dates Reiki Infused Meditation with Marie Mon, Sep 28 Online Event More info RSVP

Support groups designed for you! Real conversations. Real understanding. Support for every stage of breast cancer. Upcoming Support Groups Multiple Dates Tue, Sep 15 The Caregiver Huddle / Zoom RSVP Sep 15, 2026, 7:00 PM – 8:30 PM EDT Zoom Monthly Virtual Support for Those Caring for a Loved One with Cancer Caring for someone with cancer can be overwhelming, isolating, and emotionally complex. You don’t have to carry it alone. Share Multiple Dates Thu, Sep 17 Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC) Support Group with Nancy Gaulin, PsyD / Zoom RSVP Sep 17, 2026, 7:00 PM – 8:00 PM EDT Zoom Join us for our Thursday Night Thrivers MBC Support Group, a warm and uplifting space created specifically for the Metastatic Breast Cancer community. This free, online support group is facilitated by the exceptional psychologist Nancy L. Gaulin, PsyD, MBA a specialist in cancer-related support Share Multiple Dates Thu, Sep 17 Círculo de Mujeres: Apoyo Emocional y Crecimiento Personal / Zoom RSVP Sep 17, 2026, 8:00 PM – 9:00 PM EDT Zoom Círculo de Mujeres es un encuentro recurrente creado especialmente para mujeres diagnosticadas con cáncer que buscan trabajar en sí mismas, descubrir nuevas herramientas de crecimiento personal y fortalecer su bienestar emocional. Share Mon, Sep 21 Newly Diagnosed: Encourage and Empower / Online 8 Week Program RSVP Sep 21, 2026, 11:30 AM – 12:30 PM EDT Online 8 Week Program A gentle, 8-week support program for those newly diagnosed with breast cancer. Build resilience, find community, and take back a sense of control—one small step at a time. Share Multiple Dates Thu, Oct 01 MBC Peer to Peer Support | Thursday Night Thrivers Meetup / Virtual RSVP Oct 01, 2026, 7:00 PM – 8:00 PM EDT Virtual Join our MBC Peer to Peer Support group during Thursday Night Thrivers. A monthly breakout space for the metastatic breast cancer community to connect, share, and find support. Share

SurvivingBreastCancer.org offers breast cancer support through online programs, resources, and a caring community for patients, survivors, and their families. When breast cancer becomes part of your life, we become part of your support. Subscribe to the Newsletter Donate Inspire. Empower. Support. Donate TODAY TODAY TODAY TODAY Make an Impact Donate Today Community.Education. Support Tell Cancer to #takeahike 2026 Register now SurvivingBreastCancer.org (SBC) is a national nonprofit transforming how people experience breast cancer by bridging clinical care and everyday life. Through trusted education, personalized navigation, peer support, evidence-informed wellness programming, financial assistance, and innovative digital tools, SBC empowers individuals and families to navigate breast cancer with confidence from diagnosis through every stage of their experience. Find Support JOIN THE COMMUNITY Download the SurvivingBreastCancer.org App Your on-the-go companion for trusted education, meaningful community, and programs designed to support you through every stage of the breast cancer experience. Download from the App Store Download from Google Play Discover Progams Explore over 300 programs Whole-person support including support groups, mind-body wellness classes, expert-led webinars Move & Restore Meditation Movement Mondays Movement (Pilates & Yoga) Mind & Body Practices Menu Close Create & Express Art Expression Book Club Expressive Writing Creative Expression Menu Close Connect & Support Art Expression Book Club Expressive Writing Creative Expression Menu Close Explore All Programs YOUR AI-POWERED CARE NAVIGATOR Ask Emma Ask Emma, SBC’s virtual support guide, designed to help you quickly navigate programs, resources, and answers tailored to your needs. Whether you’re looking for support, education, or where to start, Emma is here 24/7 to point you in the right direction. Facts & Figures +390 Programs offered Serving 8,000 individuals +51k Views of our digital content Webinars, on-demand mindfulness & movement classes 190K Podcast Episodes Downloaded Providing education and inspiration 85% Demonstrated increased in education & well-being Support, mental health, and health literacy One Community One Rocket One Massive Impact Donate Join 30,000+ readers who receive our weekly Monday newsletter First name* Last name Email* Yes, subscribe me to your newsletter. Submit Recibe nuestro boletín en Español Registrate aquí Registrate Shop Now This October, SurvivingBreastCancer.Org is honored to partner with Madam Glam in our shared mission to support breast cancer awareness and action. For every pink gel sold from Madam Glam’s exclusive "Think Pink" Collection, $1 will be donated directly to SurvivingBreastCancer.Org.