So yeah, I survived cancer. I think.

And because that apparently wasn’t dramatic enough, I now wake up every morning and perform a full-blown wellness circus—starring me, a lemon squeezer, and enough juice to open a franchise.

Here is how I spend my mornings before the rest of the world even hits snooze.

Step 1: The Human Origami

Waking up is less “rise and shine” and more “click, pop, creak.” My knees? Locked. Feet? Frozen. Hands? Channeling full mannequin vibes. It takes a solid hour of stretching, grimacing, and bartering with my joints just to walk like a semi-evolved mammal. At this point, I don’t get out of bed—I emerge from it like a cursed antique.

Step 2: The Latte with a Pedigree

Reward time: I craft a cappuccino so precious it should have its own birth certificate. It’s oat milk only—because dairy and I had a messy breakup years ago. I even scan the carton with an app to make sure it’s clean; it scored a 98/100, so obviously, I’m considering framing the results. I sip it like it’s holy water.

Step 3: Lemon Water with a Twist

Next, I chug lemon water like a wellness influencer mid-detox. But here’s the plot twist: I add fiber support because my post-cancer digestive system is a diva who refuses to perform without a contract. Also, I now own a lemon squeezer that I talk about like it’s my second child. Do I brag about it at brunch? Yes. Yes, I do.

Step 4: Celery Juice (The Bitter Regret Stick)

Then I juice a whole bunch of celery. It tastes like grass and seawater had a baby, but it gives me an irrational sense of superiority. Is it a placebo? Maybe. Do I care? Absolutely not. I drink it like a shot of tequila and whisper, “For the mitochondria.”

Step 5: The Juice Flight of Champions

Now it’s the antioxidant rotation. I move between tart cherry, wild blueberry, and pomegranate, because clearly I moonlight as a sommelier for health beverages. Each one is diluted—because pure pomegranate juice could probably melt enamel—and sometimes I toss in creatine and protein powder, just in case I spontaneously decide to join CrossFit.

Step 6: The Prune "Closer"

To round it all off, I eat five or six prunes. After everything I’ve consumed, my system still needs a gentle threat. Prunes are the “closers” of this operation. They show up like, “Move over, amateurs. I’ve got this.”

Final Thoughts from the Chaos Queen

All of this happens before 9 AM.

People ask me what my job is these days. I tell them I’m a full-time wellness manager, a part-time lab rat, and a juice intern. Is it extra? Hell yes. Is it chaotic? Absolutely. But after chemo, surgery, hormone therapy, and enough scans to glow in the dark—I’ll do whatever it takes to feel even 5% better.

So here’s to the routine. The potions. The prunes. And the sheer audacity of calling this “self-care” when it’s clearly a full-blown biochemical Broadway show.

And honestly? I love it.

Build Your Own Routine Survival is a daily practice, and advocacy starts with how you treat your own body. If you're looking for the motivation to build your own "comeback tour" or need a strategy to navigate the post-cancer chaos, let’s connect. You can find more of my routines and the philosophy behind my recovery in my book, or visit my website to join a community that isn't afraid to be a little "extra" for the sake of health.