We are hosting a live event with Lizbeth on Nov 24th 11:30 AM PST

I just had a conversation with Lizbeth Hamlin, a therapist in Santa Rosa who's spent decades working with breast cancer patients. We talked for over 30 minutes, and honestly, I learned just the depth of what's it like to deal with the life-changing breast cancer.

My sister-in-law was diagnosed at 34 last year. She's been through chemo, she's monitoring everything now, and she's doing okay. But I didn't really understand what she was going through until I talked to Lizbeth.

Here are five things I wish more people knew about breast cancer—not the medical facts, but the human reality.

1. You Become a Body Being Carved

This is what Lizbeth said, and it hit me hard: Women go into the hospital and feel like

"just a body that's going to get carved on."

It's not just surgery. It's losing parts of yourself. Breasts, yes—but often also ovaries, uterus, fallopian tubes, lymph nodes. Piece by piece, your body gets taken apart to save your life.

And then there's reconstruction. Some women choose it, some don't. But the surgery itself is uncomfortable, limiting. My sister-in-law has motion limitations now because of the muscle tissue. She'll need to wear compression sleeves on planes for the rest of her life to prevent lymphedema.

You're grateful to be alive. But you're also grieving what you've lost

2. It Happens to Anyone—Lifestyle Doesn't Protect You

Lizbeth was clear about this:

"It doesn't matter if you are the cleanest eater on the planet or you don't take good care of you. Cancer's going to come if there's a genetic link."

So many women ask themselves: What did I do to cause this?

The answer is usually: nothing.

Sometimes it's genetics—BRCA gene carriers have much higher risks. The cancer might show up in the breast first, but it can spread to other organs. That's why some women proactively remove everything: bilateral mastectomy, hysterectomy, all of it. In their 20s or 30s.

Lizbeth told me about a patient whose father was a BRCA carrier. Her younger sister, in her 20s, had a bilateral mastectomy and hysterectomy before she ever got cancer. Just to survive.

And here's the worst part: Many women don't even know there's a family history. Aunts and older relatives don't talk about it. They keep it quiet. So when you're diagnosed, you find out then that your aunt or grandmother had breast cancer too.

3. There's Still Tremendous Shame

Even though breast cancer is so common—even though we have a whole awareness month for it—there's still shame attached to it.

Women feel like they did something wrong. Like their bodies failed them. Like they're somehow less because of it.

Lizbeth said that when women are diagnosed, the first thing they ask is: What did I do?

They blame themselves. For their diet, their stress, their lifestyle. Even when there's nothing they could have done differently.

We need to normalize this. A breast cancer diagnosis is not your fault. It's not a moral failing. It's not punishment. It's biology.

4. Your Life Completely Changes—And the 5-Year Mark Haunts You

The moment you get diagnosed, everything shifts.

Your life becomes about appointments, surgeries, chemo, radiation, monitoring. If you're young and want kids, you have to freeze your eggs now. If you care about your appearance, Lizbeth says: get your eyebrows tattooed before chemo.

Your hair grows back curly. Your hormones get suppressed—many women are thrown into menopause, regardless of age. My sister-in-law is 34 and taking medication to keep her estrogen down. She doesn't feel like herself.

And then there's the 5-year mark.

Lizbeth said this is the marker everyone talks about. If you make it to five years, there's relief. But there's also constant fear. Every ache, every pain, every symptom that lingers: Is this it? Is the cancer back?

You survive. But you live differently.

5. The Diagnosis Itself Is a Trauma

This is what Lizbeth kept coming back to: Breast cancer isn't just a medical condition.

It's a trauma. Your life just changed. You're facing the fear of death. You're losing parts of your body.

You're navigating a system that feels overwhelming—surgeons, oncologists, radiation specialists, support groups, alternative medicine debates.

And most women don't even recognize that what they're feeling is normal.

Lizbeth treats the diagnosis as trauma from day one. She helps women gather resources—not just medical resources, but emotional and psychological ones. She helps them feel less like a body being carved and more like a person going through something hard.

Because that's what it is. It's hard. It's spiritual, physical, medical, psychological. It's your whole life.

And you can't rush through the stages. You can only be on the stage you're on.

Why This Matters to Me

I'm an acupuncturist. I work with pain, with nervous systems, with helping people regulate their bodies when everything feels out of control. I've worked with patients to manage the side effect of Chemotherapy.

But I didn't really understand the psychological depth of breast cancer until this conversation.

My sister-in-law is doing okay now. Her hair grew back. The cancer markers are down. But I'm going to call her later. Just to check in. Just to ask how she's really doing.

Because I think that's what we all need to do more of—ask, listen, and stop treating this like something people should just get through quietly.

If you've been through this, or if someone you love has: I see you. It's not just about survival. It's about everything that comes after.