If we’re friends on Instagram, you may have seen
this very cute photo of me - high as a kite, freshly out of a risk-reducing double mastectomy. I stepped away from these letters at the start of 2024, knowing this surgery was coming. It was a lot to hold—mentally, emotionally, and physically—and I wanted to give myself as much space as possible to prepare. So: no more letters for a while. Longer than I anticipated, to be honest. Turns out, healing from a preventive mastectomy required a lot of space as well.
I started the New Moon Letters at the tail end of my mom’s cancer treatments, when she was finally — thankfully — in the clear. I thought life was going back to normal — and for a sweet little window, it kind of did. Just long enough for me to get into the rhythm of writing to you. Then, one small blood test flipped my world upside down again.
It's wild to me that I managed to keep the letters going during that time. I wrote through multiple trips to Texas for cancer screenings, through another surgery my mom needed, and through countless appointments here at home as I worked to figure out my next steps for managing my breast cancer risk. I'm amazed I kept at it — but I think writing to you during that time was a lifeline tethering me to a sense of normalcy when life was anything but. Thank you for being part of that.
Learning you carry a genetic mutation that dramatically increases your cancer risk is overwhelming — a heavy, terrible thing. But for all the fear and challenges that have come with it, it also offers gifts. I've never been so clear on what I want for my life and how I want to show up for myself and for the people I love.
At the risk of sounding cliché, I can tell you that I feel more connected to life—and to myself—than I ever knew was possible. Self-trust, self-love, compassion, gratitude, awe and joy continue to deepen, even as fear and uncertainty rise and fall.
In future letters, I’d like to talk more about this — to share some of the things that I feel have helped to keep me grounded during an incredibly difficult chapter of my life. Because difficult seasons are universal to our human experience — and I believe the tools that carry us through them are universal as well. Sharing reminds us we’re not alone, and that there are ways through.
And of course, there will be art and all things Wild Valentine.
I'm so glad to be back here with you.
Thank you for being here.
