At no point in my life did I ever dream I would get a cancer diagnosis. My mother lost her life to duodenal cancer when I was 25 after a 2 year battle but my mother was unconscious about food consumption, smoked and never questioned or healed her past. It remained a life long cudgel she used to make herself feel responsible for her father’s temper and violence.

I believe that out of adversity can come growth but we need to show up and do the work. Time itself may not heal all wounds. It is the effort we make as we use the gift of time. After my mother’s death (my father died unexpectedly the year before), I was lost. She exhaled her last breath and I went from ‘only child’ to ‘nobody’s child.’ Not only did I not have tools, I didn’t know such things existed. I went on a quest. How did other humans deal with loss?

This quest informed not only my life as a human being but later my work as a professional organizer. Just when I believed I had a handle on life, my diagnosis came on July 26th exactly 22 years ago. When I shared that news with someone the other day, he automatically blurted out: “Oh! This must be such a sad day for you.” I was stopped in my tracks. No, it’s actually a joyous day. One of my doctors told me I’d be dead in three to five years. I bucked the system and 22 years later I’m still healthy and helping others on their journey. It’s a celebratory day for me.

The Journey’s Revelations

I believed I was a coward. I discovered that was not the case when I arrived for both of my surgeries and all 6 chemotherapy treatments. One drug was administered from the traditional thick plastic type bag for a drip infusion. The other was so toxic it came in a glass container and the nurses had to wear a covering in case it broke and splashed on them. One nurse asked if anyone had had the ‘pee talk’ with me. I said: “no.” She explained that for the first 48 hours I had to flush the toilet twice because my pee could damage the porcelain. I thought: “And I am putting this in my veins?!” So, no, I’m not a coward.

In my New York Times best seller One Year to an Organized Life, I share the story of my best friend at the time flying in to be by my side. It is a story I share frequently. You never know when momentous discoveries will be made in seemingly mundane situations. I was weeping, overwhelmed by the very idea of another surgery and 6 rounds of chemotherapy. In addition I had just signed a contract to write a second book and shoot a TV special. If anyone knew I had cancer, I’d lose those contracts.

My friend asked me what I teach my organizing clients. I wanted to either smack her or scream. What did organizing have to do with these massive obligations that sat squarely in my lap? I said I didn’t know as tears streamed down my face, snot ran out of my nose and I did what all women call ‘the ugly cry.' She said words that changed the trajectory of my life: “You teach people that the whole of anything is overwhelming and they have to break a project into manageable chunks, right?” I nodded yes still confused. She continued: “When you wake up tomorrow, you have 3 weeks to prepare for a hysterectomy. You don’t have to think about chemotherapy. After surgery, you will have 2 weeks to prepare for the first chemo and so on. At no point do you have to do it all at once.”

In that moment, I knew that organizing was not in fact about the beautiful closets I created or the ease I gave my clients by unpacking their homes. Organizing was the foundation for anything and everything. Ignoring it was like building a house without digging a foundation to save time. You could do a closet to practice the basic principles and then apply them to anything from planning a party or a trip to preparing to defend your PhD thesis. I call the steps The Magic Formula. What I did for a living had an application and a meaning deeper than I had realized.

Living in an organized home meant you were supported emotionally and physically by your environment. No matter what blew in through the front door, you’d handle it and never waste time searching for ‘stuff.’ When I sat on my couch too weak from chemo to move around easily, I could direct my friends with ease to grab anything I needed.

Beyond this practical application, I believe the absence of noise aka clutter enables you more easily to discern what your Life Purpose is and to feel supported in fulfilling it. My life purpose came into sharp focus: organizing was no longer how I made a living. It was my way of uplifting humanity or at least the slice of it that came to me as a client or who purchased one of my (now) 10 books. My New York Times best seller came out of this 6 month long journey. I hope you will read it, enjoy my Substack, become a subscriber and just maybe invite me over to help you in person. It’s no exaggeration to say it’s what I live for.

A Different Kind of Birthday

July 26 is not a sad day for me but rather the birth into the best part of my life. Was it a tough birth full of doubt, fear, worry and inconvenience? Yes but I found I had courage and guess what? I wrote books # 2 and # 3 during chemo and prepped and shot that TV special without anyone outside my inner circle knowing the reality of my situation. The cover-up was at times elaborate.

The good folks at iVillage thought I was in Italy with an A-list move star getting her rental home ready for her upcoming movie shoot. When I led groups live, I had to check the weather in ‘my part of Italy’ and chat about it. I also had to factor in the time difference. It was truly hilarious. I also remember going to a production meeting two days after a chemo treatment. I kept silently repeating this mantra: “I will not fall asleep. I will not vomit.” Suddenly all eyes in the room turned to me and I was asked what my views were on the material under discussion. I rallied, said something that made everyone happy and exited to collapse in the car. It was the best performance I ever gave.

How did I write two books? By working The Magic Formula, of course. I did the math and knew exactly how many pages had to be written each day. I had my outline and I simply ate that elephant one bite at a time. It was the most difficult task I had. As anyone who has done chemo knows, you get fuzzy brain and are exhausted. I still made myself sit each day and do my pages. My bills never went away and I needed to earn money. You don’t know what you can accomplish until your feet are held to the fire.

If I can pull off these miracles so can you. I speak once a year about this experience with the hope my words will reach the newly diagnosed and those in treatment. As one survivor said to me at the time: “Right now you think cancer is doing things to you. One day you will find it is doing things through you and for you.” At the time I thought she was insane. Over time I learned how wise she was.

Another survivor told me that one day in the future I would forget about this cancer journey. It would no longer be front and center in my consciousness. She told me two decades after her cancer journey she went to a new doctor and filled out the past medical history form. A few minutes after turning it in she realized she had forgotten to share her cancer journey. I’m not quite there as I always remember it happened but it feels like a dream now. It’s as if I am relating a story I read rather than something I experienced. I often wonder if it was in fact a bad dream or if it really did happen to me.

Indeed it did. And I am here to tell the tale. I extend my hand to all who need it and assure you: You got this!