Why May Will Always Mean More to Me

I sat here for a while trying to figure out how to start this.

Not because I do not have something to say, but because everything I feel lately seems to come from the same place. Living with Glioblastoma has a way of blurring the lines between days, between thoughts, between emotions. It all starts to feel familiar. Like I am moving through the same cycle on repeat. Fear, gratitude, anger, hope. None of it really leaves. It just shifts, sometimes quietly, sometimes all at once.

But tomorrow is May.

And May is different.

May is Brain Cancer Awareness Month, and when you are living with Glioblastoma, that is not just a calendar event. It is personal. It is heavy. It is meaningful in a way that is hard to explain unless you are living it.

It is not just awareness.

It is my life.

The Moment May Became Personal

Before my diagnosis in November 2023, May was just another month. Spring turning into summer. Warmer days. Longer nights. Maybe something to look forward to.

Now, May carries weight.

Because now, every time I hear the word Glioblastoma, I hear my own story.

Every statistic feels like it is about me. Every awareness post feels like it is speaking directly to my reality. Every ribbon, every walk, every fundraiser is no longer something I scroll past. It is something I feel.

Deeply.

Living with Glioblastoma has changed the way I see time. It has changed how I measure moments. It has changed what matters.

And May is where all of that comes to the surface.

How Life Has Changed Since Glioblastoma

There is no clean way to explain what it means to live with Glioblastoma.

It is not just the diagnosis. It is everything that comes with it.

It is waking up and wondering what your body is going to feel like that day.
It is navigating treatments, side effects, appointments, scans.
It is trying to live a normal life while knowing that nothing is normal anymore.

It is the mental weight.

The quiet thoughts you do not always say out loud.

The moments where everything feels fine on the outside, but inside you are carrying something heavy that never fully goes away.

Glioblastoma forces you to confront things most people never have to think about.

Time.
Mortality.
Legacy.

And at the same time, it forces you to appreciate things you might have overlooked before.

A simple conversation.
A drive with your husband.
Laughing about something stupid.
Even arguing about directions in the car.

Those moments feel different now.

Because they matter more.

The People I Never Expected to Meet

If there is one thing Glioblastoma has given me, it is people.

And I never expected that.

There is a community that exists around brain cancer that you do not see until you are part of it. Survivors. Caregivers. Advocates. Families. People who understand this life without needing an explanation.

People who know what Glioblastoma means the second you say it.

People who carry the same fears, the same questions, the same strength.

I have met individuals who are years into their journey, still fighting. People who have lost loved ones but continue to advocate. Caregivers who show a level of strength that does not get talked about enough.

These are not just connections.

They are real relationships built on something deeper than surface-level conversation.

And in a strange way, Glioblastoma has connected me to some of the most genuine people I have ever known.

Opportunities I Never Thought I Would Have

Before Glioblastoma, I had a completely different idea of what my life would look like.

Now, I am doing things I never imagined.

I became a research advocate.

That still feels surreal to say.

Being able to sit at the table, to represent patients, to share lived experiences in conversations that impact research and funding, that is something I never thought I would be part of. But here I am.

And it matters.

Because Glioblastoma is not just something I am living with. It is something I am now fighting on a different level.

I am also heading to Washington DC to advocate for brain cancer research.

That is not something that happens by accident.

That is something driven by purpose.

Because when you are living with Glioblastoma, you realize how critical research is. How important funding is. How necessary it is to push for more.

More awareness.
More treatment options.
More hope.

And being able to stand in those spaces and speak from experience is something I do not take lightly.

The Walk That Means More Than Just Steps

In June, I will be part of the National Brain Tumor Walk.

On paper, it is just a walk.

But it is not.

It is a reminder that none of us are alone in this.

It is a space where survivors, families, caregivers, and supporters come together. Not just to walk, but to be seen.

To be understood.

To honor the people who are still fighting and the ones we have lost.

When you are living with Glioblastoma, events like this hit differently. You look around and realize how many lives are touched by this disease.

And it is overwhelming.

But it is also powerful.

Because it shows the strength of this community.

Awareness Means Something Different Now

Before Glioblastoma, awareness was just a word.

Now, it is everything.

Awareness is how we get funding.
Awareness is how we push research forward.
Awareness is how we make people care about something they might not understand.

But more than that, awareness is about people.

It is about telling stories.
It is about sharing experiences.
It is about making sure that no one going through this feels invisible.

May is a time when that awareness is amplified.

And for me, it is a time to speak louder.

To share more.

To be honest about what living with Glioblastoma actually looks like.

Not the filtered version.

The real version.

The Emotional Reality of Living With Glioblastoma

There is a part of this that I do not always talk about.

The emotional side.

Because it is not always inspirational.

It is not always strong.

Sometimes it is just hard.

There are days where I feel overwhelmed. Days where I wonder what the future really looks like. Days where I question if I will ever be able to separate myself from this diagnosis.

Will Glioblastoma always be this loud in my life?

Will it ever sit quietly in the background?

I do not know.

And that uncertainty is one of the hardest parts.

Because you can push forward. You can build something. You can stay busy.

But in the quiet moments, it is still there.

And that is the reality.

Why May Matters More Than Ever

May is not just about awareness campaigns or social media posts.

For me, it is a checkpoint.

A moment to reflect on everything that has changed since Glioblastoma entered my life.

A moment to recognize the people I have met, the opportunities I have been given, and the path I am now on.

A moment to feel everything that comes with this journey.

The good.

The bad.

The complicated.

May reminds me that this is bigger than me.

That there is a community behind this.

That there is a purpose behind sharing my story.

Moving Forward With Purpose

If there is one thing Glioblastoma has taught me, it is that time is not something to take for granted.

And that does not mean living in fear.

It means being present.

It means appreciating the moments that matter.

It means continuing to build something meaningful, even when things feel uncertain.

Whether that is through advocacy, through community, or even through something as simple as a conversation.

This journey is not one I would have chosen.

But it is the one I am on.

And if sharing it, especially during May, helps even one person feel less alone, then it matters.

A Final Thought

Tomorrow is May 1st.

And while the world sees the start of a new month, I see something deeper.

I see everything Glioblastoma has changed.

I see everything it has taken.

But I also see everything it has given.

The people.
The purpose.
The perspective.

May will always mean more to me now.

Because it is not just about awareness.

It is about life.