Getting Lazy After Cancer

Getting Lazy After Cancer

When I first found out I had Glioblastoma, everything in my life changed overnight. I overhauled my diet, cleaned out my kitchen, and became obsessed with what I put into my body. I told myself that if I was going to die, it would not be because I ignored my health. Every smoothie, every salad, and every supplement felt like a small act of rebellion against the statistics that said I would not be here long.

But then something happened that I did not expect. I kept living.

Month after month, scan after scan, I stayed stable. The urgency that once drove every decision started to fade, and slowly, I began to let things slide. I ate what I wanted. I stopped paying attention to labels. Exercise became something I would get back to “soon.” Before I knew it, “soon” had turned into months, and the scale had crept up from 165 to 215. I looked in the mirror one morning and barely recognized myself.

I do not know exactly when I decided to let myself go. Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was the first time in years that I allowed myself to stop living in survival mode. There is a strange comfort in letting go after you have been so rigid, so controlled, for so long. I told myself I deserved it. And in a way, I did. I had fought hard and survived something most people do not. But being human means that even when we survive, we still have to deal with all the normal stuff—motivation, laziness, discipline, and self-control. Surviving cancer does not make you immune to bad habits.

Lately, my husband and I have started walking again. Just small walks, nothing fancy, but they have reminded me how good it feels to move. We have started cooking together, planning meals that make us feel better instead of worse. It is not about perfection. It is about showing up for ourselves again.

Getting healthy again is hard. It is humbling. Some days I feel unstoppable. Other days I wonder why I ever stopped trying. But I am learning that health is not a single decision—it is a hundred small choices made every day. It is what I eat, how much I move, and how kind I am to myself when I stumble.

Cancer taught me how fragile life is, but also how easy it is to waste the second chance it gives you. I used to think surviving meant beating the disease. Now I know surviving also means taking care of the body that carried me through the fight.

I am not ashamed that I got lazy. I am human. We all are. What matters is that I noticed, I cared, and I started again. There is no finish line here. Just the simple, imperfect act of trying.

So if you have slipped, forgive yourself. If you have stopped caring, remember that you can start again at any time. I did. And I am walking proof—literally—that life after cancer is not about never falling. It is about never deciding that you are too far gone to get back up.