No Is a Full Sentence

The first time cancer entered our lives in 2016, I handled it the way I thought I was supposed to: by handling everything.

I took client calls from hospital rooms. I answered emails between chemo rounds. I smiled at the nurses and assured everyone I was “totally fine” while my world tilted sideways.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know then - that there’s a difference between being strong and being available for everyone else’s comfort. That holding it all together isn’t proof that you’re okay; sometimes it’s proof that you’re drowning.

Fast forward nine years. New diagnosis. Same hospital. Same husband I love fiercely.
But this time? Everything’s different.
Because I am.

In the years between then and now, I became a mother. Twice. I grew in my career. I lived through enough to understand that my energy isn’t an unlimited resource. And that when life gets heavy, trying to be everything for everyone only leads to one place: collapse.

So when cancer came back last year, I didn’t try to push through.
I set boundaries. I protected my peace.

And I discovered something quietly revolutionary: the people who matter most didn’t just understand; they supported me in ways that still take my breath away.

Here are five boundaries that helped me stay steady when the ground shifted:

1. I Stopped Replying to Every Message

Even loving messages can feel like homework when you’re barely keeping your head above water. This time, I gave myself permission to let texts sit. To read them when I had capacity, not when they arrived.

Try this:
“Thank you for thinking of us. I’m not very responsive right now, but your message means the world.”

2. I Said No to the Extras

The parties. The panels. The “quick coffee” invites. Even the fun stuff got a gentle no when my tank was empty - not because I didn’t want to be there, but because I couldn’t stretch myself any thinner without snapping.

I’ve also pulled back from things that used to feel like easy fun - like a glass of wine at dinner with friends. During this season, my nervous system needs rest, not stimulants or suppressants. I’m learning that real fun is being able to feel like me, not numbing or pushing through.

The truth: Saying no isn’t rude. It’s responsible stewardship of your energy.

3. I Asked for What I Needed at Work

Nine years ago, I was terrified to show any weakness. This time, I led with honesty. I shared what we were going through. I asked for flexibility. I focused on what was essential - and let the rest wait.

The surprise: When we stop hiding our humanity, we make space for others to meet us in it.

4. I Stopped Explaining Myself

Parenthood taught me this: I don’t owe anyone an elaborate backstory for my boundaries. If I don’t justify saying “no” to my kid when I need a moment, why was I doing it with grown adults? 
 

“I can’t” is a complete sentence.
“I’m not available” needs no footnotes.

The freedom: Boundaries don’t need apologies. Just clarity.

5. I Protected Quiet Moments

Five minutes with my eyes closed while my husband napped. A solo walk after school drop-off. Music in the car that reminded me who I am beyond the crisis.

These aren’t Instagram-worthy self-care moments. They’re small acts of returning to myself. And they matter more than all the bubble baths in the world.

Here's what I know now that I wish I'd known then

Boundaries aren’t selfish. They’re survival tools. They’re what allow us to keep showing up - not just for others, but for the person we’re becoming through it all.

I used to think being a good parent meant showing up to everything - the parties, the field trips, the Pinterest-worthy dinners. But I’ve learned that what my kids really need isn’t constant access to me; it’s a version of me that’s grounded, honest, and modeling what it looks like to take care of yourself in the storm.

When they grow up, I don’t want them to remember a mom who did it all. I want them to remember a mom who showed them how to rest, how to say no, and how to choose what matters.

If you’re walking through something hard right now, you don’t have to prove your strength by pretending everything’s fine.

Say no. Ask for help. Let go of the extras that aren’t serving your actual life.

You’re allowed to honor your limits. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom wrapped in self-respect. And it might just save your sanity.