Melissa’s Journey

Meet Your Mentor

“Sometimes life doesn’t ask if you’re ready — it just hands you the storm and expects you to learn how to swim.”

I was 45 when I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular carcinoma.
Those words — “you have cancer” — changed everything in an instant.

One day, I was working, raising two kids, keeping up with the chaos of everyday life. The next, my world revolved around scans, surgeries, and survival.

Soon after, I learned I carried the BRCA 2 gene — a revelation that reframed not only my treatment, but my sense of who I was and what my future might look like.

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A woman in a hospital bed with her eyes closed, connected to medical tubes and equipment, covered with a white hospital blanket.

The months that followed were filled with procedures I could barely keep straight: a double mastectomy, axillary lymph-node removal, six months of chemotherapy, radiation, an oophorectomy, and finally, reconstruction.

Each stage came with its own kind of pain, and its own kind of fear.

The side effects were relentless — hair loss, neuropathy, hormonal changes, osteoporosis — and yet the hardest part wasn’t just the physical toll.

It was the waiting. The not knowing. The endless cycle of scans and anxiety that seemed to take over my life.

And still, life didn’t stop.

I kept working, though fewer hours, and tried to create normalcy for my children — who were in seventh and ninth grade at the time.
They couldn’t drive yet, so I was still the chauffeur, the cook, the homework helper.
I wanted them to feel like their world hadn’t fallen apart, even when mine sometimes felt like it had.

All of this happened during COVID.
Every appointment, every surgery, every chemo treatment — I faced alone.

No one was allowed to sit beside me, no hand to hold, no comforting face behind the mask.

But even in that isolation, I wasn’t truly alone.

I was incredibly lucky to have a strong, caring community.
Friends who drove me when I couldn’t drive myself.
Friends who brought food, checked on my kids, and reminded me that help doesn’t have to be asked for to be given.
Their kindness filled the silence of those lonely days and gave me the strength to keep going.

Cancer changed me.

My body bears scars. My energy isn’t what it used to be.
But it also gave me something unexpected — perspective.

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Strength doesn’t always look like fighting

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Sometimes it’s just showing up

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Strength doesn’t always look like fighting • Sometimes it’s just showing up •

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A woman with curly blonde hair smiling and sitting indoors, wearing a tan cardigan over a light pink shirt, with a kitchen in the background.
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A woman sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat in a therapy or physiotherapy room, with a professional in the background.

I learned that strength doesn’t always look like fighting.

Sometimes it’s just showing up — for yourself, for your family, for your life — even when you’re scared, even when you’re exhausted.

Sometimes it’s sitting in your car after chemo, taking a deep breath, and saying, “Okay. I can do this again tomorrow.”


Even now, I live with both gratitude and fear.

Gratitude for the treatments and the people who carried me through them.
And fear, because once you’ve had cancer, you never fully forget its shadow.

But above all, I live with a deeper understanding of what it means to survive.
Not just to stay alive — but to live, to love, to keep moving forward with courage.

And now, I take what I’ve learned and give it back.

I share the strategies, tools, and mindset shifts that helped me heal.

I teach Pilates teachers how to work with breast cancer thrivers, helping them build safe, empowering spaces for recovery.

I serve as a cancer care coach, guiding others through the overwhelming maze of diagnosis, treatment, and beyond.

And I speak as a motivational speaker — not to tell people how to be strong, but to remind them that they already are.

Because here’s what I know now:

  • You don’t have to wait until you’re fearless to move forward.

  • You just have to move — one breath, one step, one day at a time.

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My story isn’t just about cancer.

It’s about resilience.
It’s about community.
And it’s about hope — the quiet, steady kind that keeps shining even after the storm has passed.

Because I didn’t just survive cancer — I learned to live again. And that’s the story I’ll keep sharing.

Learn More About the Services that I Offer

I support women through the following ways:

Cancer Care Coaching

Melissa’s concierge-style coaching offers intensive, personalized support to help you turn the cancer journey into an opportunity for growth and resilience.

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Learn more

Motivational Speaking

A thought leader on resilience and reinvention, Melissa blends courage, creativity, and growth into an unforgettable message of strength and renewal.

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Pilates Training

This training helps Pilates instructors safely support breast cancer patients—building strength, mobility, and resilience through targeted movement and breathwork.

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Learn more
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The Journey Continues

Melissa is a cancer survivor, health educator, and devoted holistic cancer coach, dedicated to guiding clients through their healing and empowerment journey.

As a cancer survivor and health educator, Melissa  has transformed her life’s most daunting challenge into a mission: to assist clients and their caregivers in navigating the cancer journey with resilience, strength, and hope. Cancer reshaped her perspective, forcing her to prioritize what truly matters, driving her towards a life of purpose and gratitude.

Now, she is here to support clients in doing the same – assisting them in facing this new challenge with dignity and hope, every single day.

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Let’s Walk This Path Together

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Check Out My Podcast!

If you’re navigating a cancer journey — or supporting someone who is — this podcast is your space for hope, honesty, and healing. [Her name] offers tools for resilience, stories of transformation, and insight on embracing life beyond diagnosis.

Listen to the Podcast