Silpada Think Pink Collection: Styles That Give Back

I had so much fun partnering with Silpada Design and Living Beyond Breast Cancer to design two necklaces for Silpada’s Think Pink Collection. Below is my write-up about the inspiration behind my sunflower designs. You can shop the collection here.

I have always loved sunflowers, not only because they make me smile when I look at them, but because of what they represent. Sunflowers are constantly looking toward the sun, and on cloudy days, sunflowers turn toward one another to share their energy. Perhaps they aren’t the most beautiful flower, and their wild fields certainly do not fit an orderly aesthetic, but I have always found beauty in their messy growth, as growth, I have learned, is an utterly confusing and disorganized, but triumphant mess.

My love and appreciation for sunflower’s meaning intensified after I was diagnosed with stage IIb breast cancer at 29 in June 2018. On that sunny June afternoon, I unknowingly began the exploration of my own chaotic growth. “Cancer patient” became my new full time job, and followed with a year consumed with treatment and procedures including a double mastectomy, fertility preservation, chemotherapy, reconstruction, and radiation.

Sunflowers became a representation of the light inside me I refused to let extinguish even in my darkest hours. I began to let myself feel shattered, knowing that the only way to heal was to sit with the pain and grief of my experience, but I refused to let my experience break me. When I finished treatment in April 2019, I realized I needed to become my own version of a sunflower. I experienced a textbook reaction to the conclusion of active cancer treatment, which I have learned is widely shared by cancer survivors, but rarely given the focus it needs.

On that spring day in April as I rang my final bell, I felt happy to be finished the grueling life of a cancer patient, but I also felt as if I had been thrown into deep water without anything to tether to. I felt stripped of myself and who I was. The anxiety and depression that began to settle were unavoidable and complex. I was officially in remission, and yet I would have gladly traded this new status to be back in the arena for more testing and consistent medical care. I was beginning to see the seriousness of my disease for the first time. Constantly seeing doctors and being treated had become a welcomed comfort zone. Everyone encouraged me to return to a “normal life”. Not one person provided guidance on how to do that. There was no warning that the after would be even harder than the during. I felt completely paralyzed by fear, but even more confused at my new and unexpected emotions.

The light I had worked diligently, and successfully, to keep burning since my diagnosis was threatening to burn out. It quickly became clear to me that the only way to move forward was to remove my armor and embrace vulnerability. I had to sit in sadness and grief until it no longer consumed me. So, I got to work. I am talking about the grittiest work I have ever done while also trying to maintain grace and courage. I began a mantra of “small intentional steps” that I continue to follow every day. Slowly, a life raft appeared, and then a boat, and then I began to see dry land. I let the symbol of a sunflower guide me and remind me to grab tightly onto the light I fought so hard to keep burning. I did not do this alone. I leaned on my trusted support system, especially my husband, to share his light with me until I could find my own again. Letting people in to sit with the trauma with me was healing and essential. I am forever grateful to my husband who never allowed my pain to cause discomfort. Instead, he dove into the deep waters with me and began treading.

I hope sunflowers can remind others going through trauma to keep searching for the light even in the moments when the flicker is so dim you swear it went out. If you work hard to keep it burning, you will emerge from the ashes radiant and ready to be the light for others.