Holding on to Hope – Improbable but Not Impossible

I’ve heard before “sometimes hope is all we have.”  I believe it.  I’m an adult but, at times, have the childlike hopefulness to believe when there seems to be no reason to believe.

I got my kids some snow scooters this past Christmas, but we haven’t seen enough snow this season to use them.  Every forecast of snow came and went with only a dusting of snow.  It seemed that it might be time to put the snow scooters, and all our snow toys, in “storage” until next winter and look forward to springtime games.  My winter boots were ripped and I thought I should get rid of them, but held on thinking they could be useful in case we got that one snow enough for snow games.

winter boots

snow toys


As we approached the start of spring, with a forecast of snow, I was doubtful; thinking I should write it off like the other few almost snowstorms.  Last night, we got a little more than a dusting, but not enough for the snow toys.  I woke to clear streets and much of the same.  But, at 8am this morning, almost to the minute of the forecast, it began to snow steadily and then heavily.  By noon, we had more than enough springtime snow to use our snow toys.

snow patrol clnsnow patrol klnsnow patrol man

My kids had fun but, truthfully, me, the big kid, probably had the most fun.  A day I thought I wouldn’t see for a few more seasons arrived later than expected, but gave me the thrill and excitement that, as a child and an adult, I’ve always loved.


Meteorologists said we haven’t had a recorded spring snow like this in about 50 years.  Glad I didn’t get rid of my boots.  Glad I kept hoping.  Improbable, but not impossible.

winter snow

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach and Reconstructionist™ chronicling life after a breast cancer diagnosis.  Sharing my musings on the life lessons I’ve learned from the wild ride of the highs, lows, ordinary and extraordinary in every day.  Living my manifesto, Soul of a Survivor, and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Miami, Shells, Beauty

As I walked on the beach collecting shells, I reminisced about a previous Miami Beach trip and reflected on beauty.  I am blessed that I recently had the opportunity to travel to Miami Beach for a trip that was both business and pleasure.  However, any opportunity for me to go to the beach is pleasure.  The last time I was in Miami Beach in 2009 after I had had my mastectomy, oophorectomy and completed 16 rounds of chemotherapy.  I had started, but not finished reconstruction.  This was the trip of a lifetime with my lifelong friends at the end of almost one year of fighting breast cancer.

Miami shells 1

Miami shells 2

The fight took a toll on me mentally, spiritually and, especially, physically.  I had been at a wedding before my girls’ trip, just as I finished chemo.  I had been in a lot of weddings before where the bridesmaids had to change in a shared room.  I was never very self-conscious before, but I was extremely self-conscious and anxious as I began to change into my bridesmaid dress, working to make sure I didn’t knock my wig off or get it twisted.  I changed in a corner, turned toward a wall for “privacy”, not wanting anyone to see my awkward misshapen breasts or the bulging scarred area where I still had my mediport.  When I got to my Miami in 2009, I was still rockin’ my wig because my peach fuzz hair was growing in patchy and had me looking like a Q-Tip®, completely white.  My mediport had been removed, but left behind a scar and there were all those other scars from my mastectomy and reconstruction and scars where my drain tubes had been.  I think my discolored black nails (not painted black, but black from all the meds in my body) had started to return to their normal color.  Not the societal definition of a 39-year-old beauty queen; lots of imperfections.  I wore my wig like Linus carried his blanket, my security.  I wore outfits that could hide my scars.


Fast forward to my 2018 Miami Beach trip. Yes, I wore my first two-piece swimsuit in several years.  I wore strapless halter dresses two days in a row with no place for my mediport scar to hide.  As I walked along the seashore on the beach (hands down one of my favorite places on earth) I was doing what I do on the beach – collecting seashells.  I think seashells are beautiful.  For so many years, I’ve been predisposed to getting shells with the perfect clamshell shape and with curves and exterior ribbing.  I would always go for those that seemed intact, but not this trip.  I was drawn to some of the less “perfect” shells, those with chips, knicks and other blemishes and imperfections because of how I now embrace beauty.

Miami shells 4

Laying on the beach with the beautiful people in a society that can idolize and admire airbrushed beauty, I was at peace and comfortable in my own skin.  Throughout my battle with breast cancer, I was adjusting, trying to own this body, these changes and transformation, these blemishes and scars.  I’ve spent countless hours in the mirror looking at my “new” body.  The scars have faded over the years, but never gone away.  I’ve transitioned from wearing my scars like a scarlet letter, a badge of shame, to being unafraid of wearing outfits that show my scars and now wear it as a badge of courage, a symbol of my strength and that’s beautiful.  As I collect the shells with blemishes and imperfections, I still admire their beauty.  And, as I look in the mirror with my blemishes and imperfections, I embrace my beauty, scars and all.

Mel scar

See more of my reflections at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sy7uXmXfnKU.

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate who chronicles life after a breast cancer diagnosis.  Living my manifesto,  Soul of a Survivor, and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Thankful and Blessed to be Watching

Almost nine years ago, when I received my triple negative breast cancer diagnosis, my first prayer was “God, please let me watch my children grow up!”  My son was four years old and my daughter was 19 months old.  My daughter was just barely walking and talking and my son couldn’t comprehend all that was happening, but had a basic understanding that mommy was sick.  Both of my kids were in day care when I was diagnosed. 

Through the years, there have been many times when I’ve been sucked into a hectic schedule of work, busy work, kids’ activities and the fast pace of day to day life, I’m reminded to stop, pause, take a deep breath and watch – truly watch and digest what’s happening in my children’s lives and watch them grow.

This past weekend on our annual “Say Goodbye to Summer; Last Beach Weekend Before School Starts” trip, we drove to the beach.  We love the beach and take every opportunity we can, especially during the summer, to get to the beach; day trip to the beaches not far from us or a longer ride further down south – we are game.  This weekend, as we drove to the beach, my now 10-year-old daughter, napped on the drive there.  My son and I sat in the front conversing as old friends.  We talked about everything, especially him starting junior high school and his upcoming 13th birthday.  We laughed, got serious at times and had the best conversation.  The richness of that moment is so precious.  In our ride on a two-lane road, as my car slowly made its way through a grey, drizzling day, we connected in such a special way. 

Carter and mom at beach

It was a rainy day when we got to the beach.  No matter; just being by the water, hearing the ocean brings me peace.  The beach is my serenity and my sanity and being there with my kids gives me so much calm and joy. We walked on the boardwalk and slipped into our favorite candy store to pass some time. 

Candy Kitchen with kids 2017 cropped

The next day, we awoke to clouds that eventually made way for the beaming sun.  Joined by their cousins, I watched my children laugh, run, catch waves, play racquet games and fill the day with fellowship and fun. 

We got back to use Labor Day Monday to prep for school.  My daughter excitedly and anxiously awaited this morning, her first day of middle school.  Their maturity and independence was in full swing.  I had little role in their prep for the day as they laid out their clothes, made their lunches and my son awoke to his own alarm.  School drop offs and goodbyes were quick as they didn’t require any hand holding that they once did.  Their independent spirit was in full bloom.

first day of school 2017 cropped

I could be sad because they no longer cling to my leg or need that last, reassuring hug to start the day.  Or, I can look at it as a sign that my husband and I have provided the support they needed in their “younger” days and welcome and celebrate these milestones.  We’re moving on.  They’re growing up.  And, thank God, I’m blessed to be watching. 

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate who chronicles life after a breast cancer diagnosis.  Living my manifesto,  Soul of a Survivor, and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Thank You POTUS 44

President Barack Obama delivers a statement on the Affordable Care Act in the East Room of the White House, May 10, 2013. (Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson)

President Barack Obama delivers a statement on the Affordable Care Act in the East Room of the White House, May 10, 2013. (Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson)

Mel with PresidentMel and Ray with VP

Mel with VP

Thank you, Mr. President, Mrs. Obama, Vice President Biden and Dr. Jill Biden.  Extraordinary job.  Phenomenal Service.   We will continue to pray for you and your families.  THANK YOU!!!

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate who chronicles life after a breast cancer diagnosis.  Living my manifesto,  Soul of a Survivor, and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Because I Can

Last week, I resumed my three times a week jogging routine.  Today, with temps in the 20s, I still got in my 4.5 mile outdoor run this morning.  Prior to resuming last week, I had taken a two-and-a-half-week break; initially because of a cold and then because I was thoroughly enjoying being a holiday couch potato.  I definitely value rest and relaxation (see A Restful Mind and a Recharged Spirit ).  I really enjoyed my holiday break.  So, it took me some time to get motivated and when I started back was running at a slower than normal pace.  But, I got my 3 runs in last week and plan to get them in this week, too. 

Running for me is almost addictive.  There are so many personal benefits.  I get my daily physical activity.  The health benefits of exercise are proven and I’m especially mindful of trying to help reduce my risk of breast cancer recurrence.  For me, I also benefit from the stress relief that I find during and after my run.  I solve all of the world’s problems while I’m jogging.  I’ve found it to be a fairly easy and inexpensive form of exercise since I run outside and don’t require a gym membership or treadmill.  It definitely contributes to my health and wellness.  But most of all, I do it because I can.


Not so long ago, I wasn’t jogging, but sock collecting.  I have a drawer full of hospital socks, the ones you get when you have a diagnostic test or when you’re in the hospital.  They have the slip resistant material on the bottom to keep you upright when you start walking (post surgery or post medical procedure).  Through my breast cancer survival, I’ve collected a lot of these socks and wear then around my house.  They are comfortable, but they are also a reminder of hospital stays, including my mastectomy (breast removal surgery), my oophorectomy (surgical removal of my ovaries) when sitting up in a hospital bed was a task and walking even short distances seemed almost impossible.


In addition to my hospital sock collection, I’ve also collected quite a few pair of running shoes.  For the shoes that I’ve worn out, literally to no tread, I keep them as work shoes.  In the last four years, since I’ve taken up distance running, there have only been a few weeks that I’ve taken off, mostly due to a cold or ailment.  For someone who hasn’t been disciplined in every area of my life, this is one area where I’m focused and disciplined.  I’ve completed 5 distance runs (four 10 mile runs and a half marathon of 13.1 miles).  I’ve also completed some distance walks.  I average 1 -2 distance runs annually.  I don’t run for speed.  I run for completion.  When I’m not training for a distance run, I run as part of my routine.  I’m not trying to qualify for one of the storied international marathons.  I might one day, but it’s not my goal.  I run because I can.

When I had my breast cancer surgeries and treatment, putting on a pair of socks and shoes for a walk around the block was as unthinkable as a 10-mile run.  I’ve said it many times before that as I was laying on my back in a hospital bed or sitting exhausted in my chair while I was getting chemo any activity seemed like an impossibility.

But, I kept a vision of “life after”.  I didn’t know what exactly it might look like.  I didn’t envision distance runs, but I envisioned more than laying on my back or sitting exhausted in my chair.  So, 8 years later, I run because I can. 


I’m not really making resolutions this year, but more declarations.  I’m bringing back music to my life (see Bringing Back Music to My Life in the New Year).  As a cultural tourist, I’m keenly aware of the fact that as we age we tend to become confined by cultural norms or expectations.  There are a lot of unwritten rules to follow and abide by as an adult.  We do things, mostly the fun, imaginative, adventurous stuff of our dreams, somewhat apologetically.  We put off our plans because it doesn’t seem to be the right place or time.  We do only what’s necessary and not necessarily what’s fulfilling because it’s what we are supposed to do.  But, I’m going to live the way I want to, with an even bigger vision, because I can. 

Today I will __________ because I can. 

This week I will __________ because I can. 

This month I will __________ because I can. 

This year I will __________ because I can. 


Fill in the blanks.  This year, I’m making my own rules and I’m going to live my life bigger and better than ever, full of fun and laughter BECAUSE I CAN!

What’s yours?  Please share.  I look forward to hearing from you and making 2017 a Because I Can year!

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate.  Living my manifesto Soul of a Survivor and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Be Careful When and Where You Park

For many, the last 1-2 weeks have been holiday, downtime or vacation.  Many are off from work and school, some have vacationed and others, hopefully at least, have reduced their workload and to do list and relaxed a little.  As I prep for return to work and my kids getting back to school, back to a busy and often extremely hectic schedule, I’m mapping out my week and planning for meetings, school events and getting my plans together.

I’ll admit that I normally am running late or just on time.  This is the result of me trying to squeeze in one last thing; a habit I’m working on changing.  With me running late, I generally find limited parking options and pull my car in wherever I can, jump out and walk/jog/run to wherever I have to be.  And if it’s a crowded meeting, I usually get the worst seat where I can’t see or hear very well.  Consequently, when my meeting is over, I often have to “remember” where I speedily parked my car.  It’s a time waster and my car is usually a bit further away from where I am because the close-up spots are “reserved” for the early comers. 


But this summer, my kids attended a new camp.  Every day, during pick-up, I’d watch the traffic pile up which created a longer wait and more difficult time to get back to the main roads to get home.  Because I had to pick up my kids before the end of my work day, I needed to get them quickly to get back to work responsibilities.  I quickly devised a plan.  I would get to camp a few minutes early to get a prime parking space.  I started parking my car in the same spot every day.  I always pulled in, turned and park in the direction headed toward my next appointment.  The space where I parked was out of the heavy traffic and allowed me to quickly pick up my kids and bypass the traffic to get on the road. 

The process was so smooth and efficient that I’m working to adopt it in my other planning.  Somewhat simple, but impactful lessons, especially as I prepare to WIN 2017.  There’s a path that I want to take.  I need to be parked in the best space that will allow me to be prepared and ready to move, sometimes quickly, in that direction.  Traveling a little earlier will allow me to avoid bottlenecks.  The best parking space has several advantages.  I’ll keep this top of mind.  Be careful when and where you park.  Moving forward.  Ready. Set. Go!


Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate.  Always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.


Bringing Music Back to My Life in the New Year

After a subpar childhood piano career, I resumed my piano lessons when I was 35 years old.  I remember how I jumped up and down and celebrated when the used black upright piano that I purchased was delivered to my house.  Even as the mother of a 13-month-old son, I was dedicated and likely the most disciplined I had been.  I was faithful to my lessons, my practice and focused on becoming an accomplished pianist. 


I love music and wanted to fill my home with countless piano “concerts”.  I envisioned my family sitting around the piano and Christmas tree during the holidays as I performed a list of traditional holiday favorites as well as performing concerts throughout the year where I played a variety of genres. 

As an adult, I remember nervously sitting next to kindergarteners as we prepared for our spring recital in 2008.  After the birth of my second child, this was my first recital in almost 20 years.  My emotions vacillated between excitement and frustration; excitement that I was pursuing my piano dreams and frustration that I hadn’t been a better childhood student and hadn’t mastered the piano at almost 40.  Nevertheless, I was excited to be performing a culmination of a few years of lessons that had me proud of what I had recently accomplished and further lit the fire under me to keep getting better.  Despite a few missed keys, the spring recital was great and I beamed with pride as my family and friends got to see my hard work.  Despite being a working mother of two (I had recently taken a much-needed break from corporate America), I was able to maintain my family focus while making piano lessons a priority and working on my other professional endeavors.

Until that devastating derailment also known as my triple negative breast cancer diagnosis.  In my sudden and immediate change of priorities to better understand my breast cancer subtype, research treatment options, physicians and focus on survival, I withdrew from my upcoming fall recital. 

That was 8 years ago.  Aside from the occasional moment that I plunk at a piece from my childhood or adulthood recitals or some of my half-written songs and a few comical attempts to provide lessons to my family, the piano has sat largely unused.  Sometimes dusty and out of tune, it represents a stark contradiction to the dedicated days of practice, my scheduled piano tunings and appreciation for the instrument and music I was able to produce. 


The years since my breast cancer diagnosis have been filled with highs and lows, a challenge as I find my way in my new normal.  Dreams I once had have been replaced by new dreams.  U turns have been a large part of navigation in my new normal.  Reconstruction has been an overriding theme.  As 2016 closes with another year of survival, another holiday and my 47th birthday, resolutions I used to make have been replaced by one simple declaration for the year ahead.  I’m bringing back the music to my life! 


Things that were out of tune and dusty in my life will be dusted off, tuned with a refocus to have beautiful melodies today and the next day and the next day.  This is a work in progress.  I look forward to recommitting myself to some of the things I “lost” and making my new normal more bright and beautiful. 


I pray that there’s also beautiful music for you in 2017.  I’ll keep you posted and hope to hear about your 2017 adventures. 

Happy New Year!

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate.  Always striving to color outside of the lines when defining your new normal.



Celebrating Breast Cancer Survivors

On this first day of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and every day, I celebrate survivors.  For me, you become a survivor the moment that you are diagnosed with cancer; the moment that you become aware that cancer is in your body and make the decision to battle, to survive.  Not when you begin or finish treatment, not after surgery, but the moment that you are diagnosed.  That’s my definition.  Surviving is hard, no doubt, but truly a blessing. I draw strength and encouragement from my survivor sisterhood.

Your strength is unmatched. Your grace is remarkable. Your courage is unquestionable. Your faith is unshakable.

The soul of a survivor is that of the phoenix rising from the ashes. The incomparable and unconquerable spirit that is imbued with fortitude.

Beautiful and radiant.   You have spread your winds and soared to heights that most never reach. You are standing on a peak that belongs to you and you alone.  Dance, sing and praise yourself! You are a breast cancer survivor!

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate.  Always striving to color outside of the lines when defining your new normal.

My Reasons to Stand Up to Cancer

Tonight I’ll watch Stand Up to Cancer The 2016 Show and it will certainly get me thinking about my reasons to stand up to cancer.  In July, my daughter looked at the ground and asked me “how is that plant growing through the concrete?”  We had seen a plant that was growing in seemingly the least optimal circumstance.  When we got to my computer, I did a quick search and learned that the plants aren’t actually growing through the concrete, but that they are growing through cracks in the concrete because they can grow anywhere there is water.  But, they appear as if they are growing through the concrete.  Like plants that grow straight up, looking like they are standing, I’ll continue to use the nourishment that I’ve received to push through the challenges brought by cancer and I’ll stand up.


I’ve enjoyed having these types of conversations with my children; moments of curiosity and wonder.  These are moments that I wasn’t sure I’d have since my daughter was barely talking when I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer on November 21, 2008.  I was a 38 year old married mother of a four year old son and a 19 month old daughter.  My first prayer was for God to please allow me to watch my children grow up.  As a fifth generation breast cancer patient and a carrier of the BRCA1 gene mutation, I was extremely unsure of my future.  It felt like concrete had been poured on me, stopping me right where I was.

Right where I was, mostly, was lying on my back.  When I lay in the hospital after my bilateral mastectomy, feeling weak and sick, I was still very unsure of my future.  When chemo brought me exhaustion unlike any I’d ever experienced, an easy walk down the street seemed a distant memory and everyday tasks that I had done without thought now required planning and preparation.  Curled in my bed trying to manage the effects of nausea and barely able to muster enough strength to get up, I was unsure.

But, with each passing day, with the care of my wonderful medical team, the care, love and support of my husband, family and small group of friends, I made progress moving toward my positive prognosis.  Days where I could barely get out of bed have been replaced with days where I run 5 miles.  Prayers to watch my children grow up continue and are accompanied by prayers of thanksgiving that I elatedly walked my soon-to-be 12 year old son into sixth grade and my nine year old daughter into fourth grade for the first day of school this week.



Surviving isn’t easy.  This has been a long and hard journey, but I’ve gone from lying on my back in a hospital bed too weak to do much of anything to getting out of bed each morning, putting both feet on the ground, standing up cancer free.  I stand up because I can!  I’m blessed and grateful.  I wish my mother, my role model, a woman who taught me what it means to survive and to live beautifully, could see me.

I stand up for my mother.  My beautiful, loving, supportive, phenomenal mother.  My personal and professional role model.  My friend.  My mother was the woman who nurtured me and showed me what it means to live her favorite mantra “bloom where you are planted”.  She didn’t write a someday bucket list; she lived life fully in the face of cancer.  She put in and got the most out of every day.  25 years ago, my 49 year old mother died of metastatic breast cancer after a 12 year battle with multiple recurrences.  She was a light and when she died, a part of my world went dark just like concrete had been poured over me.

The darkness was brightened by the birth of my children.  I stand up for my son and my daughter.  Without ever knowing my mother, they have so much of her in them.  They have her mannerisms and, most of all, a big, loving heart and a beautiful spirit.  I’m blessed with each day with them.  I’ll stand up to make sure that in their lifetime the toll, death rate and devastation from cancer is reduced, eliminated.

Without ever knowing my mother, my children had a surrogate maternal grandmother in my Auntie Zora, my mother’s baby sister.  I’ll stand up for her.  A strict disciplinarian during my youth, she provided a laid back and care free, nurturing environment for my babies.  Grand Nanny Z, as they called her, was truly grand and we all suffered when she died of metastatic ovarian cancer in 2013 after a 30+ year cancer battle and multiple recurrences of breast cancer and ovarian cancer.  She and my mother were some of the most respected cancer advocates and stood up for many.  They especially worked to reduce breast cancer disparities in African American women.

This has been the fight of my life.  My road from cancer has been painful and the losses provide the most excruciating pain that is with me every day.  But, the light that my mother provided, the roots that she planted in me by showing me how to live her favorite mantra “bloom where you are planted”, the advocacy that my mother and my aunt showed me drives me to keep advocating for myself and others.  I stand up for me.  I stand up for my children who bring so much light to my life.  I stand up for my late mother and my late aunt.  I stand up for those who are too weak, too incapacitated by cancer to stand up right now.

And, I know that I’m not alone.  My husband, Ray, who loved me back to life, is standing up with me.  My sister, Monica, my caregiver, first and closest friend, is standing up with me.  My sister-friends who are part of my family and helped push me through treatment and dark days are standing up with me.  I’ve got my friends at the American Association for Cancer Research (the scientific partner to Stand Up To Cancer); my friends at the National Cancer Institute; my friends at Young Survival Coalition; my friends at Black Women’s Health Imperative; my friends at Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered; my friends at Capital Breast Care Center; and my friends at the Thelma D. Jones Breast Cancer Fund; all of whom I’ve worked with to eradicate cancer.  These organizations have so many researchers and advocates who are fueled by moments of curiosity about the hows and whys of cancer that yield moments of wonder with each new breakthrough.  With Vice President Joe Biden’s Cancer Moonshot Initiative “with the goal of making a decade’s worth of progress in cancer prevention, diagnosis, and treatment in just 5 years”, we’re continuing to make progress.

I’ll watch tonight as I do every time the program airs.  I’ll remember the year that my aunt attended the live broadcast.  I’ll laugh at some of the comedic sketches and I’ll cry at some of the vignettes, many that will stir emotions about my battle and those of my mother and my aunt.  But when the credits roll, I know I’ll be further energized and I’ll continue to stand up.  I’ll be fueled by the days when I spent most of the day lying on my back.  Like the plant that appears to grow through concrete, I’ll keep pushing through every obstacle, finding a crack, a place where there is water and light to sprout up.  I’ll continue to fight through imperfect conditions that cancer places before me and I’ll continue stand up to cancer.

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate.  Always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

5 Important Lessons on Being Grounded

On Monday, I discussed a postponed beach trip, but why I’m keeping my bags packed anyway.  (I’m hopeful that this weekend I’ll get there).  But, it put traveling and road trips on my mind.  I’ve had a few instances where a flight was grounded and a trip turned, unexpectedly, into an extended or overnight trip.  When making alternate arrangements and thinking about the time I was losing, I was irked and irritated by being grounded.

I’ve hated being grounded.  I’m impatient.  As a reconstructionist™, having dealt with the physical, spiritual, emotional and financial devastation that comes with life-threatening illness and life devastating events, I am always eager for an uncomfortable or bad situation to quickly change.  I’m always looking for positive change.

I’ve been grounded a number of times, by flight cancellations, and by my late mother disciplining a young mischievous daughter (me).  I’ve also been grounded by a job layoff, business opportunities that failed and relationships that fell apart.  When I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer, I was grounded by the physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially debilitating effects of treatment.  Each situation triggered anger, irritation and impatience.  A forced delay in my plans has never been good.  Or has it?


The irony is that while being grounded seems a waste of time, it can actually be a gift of time.   As I reflect now on life’s delays and plan changes, I realize that being grounded is sometimes the ultimate gift of more time to rest, plan, prepare, and perfect; to be fully ready to take advantage when my best opportunity arises.  It’s my choice how I use my time when I’m grounded.  I’ve started moving from bemoaning the situation to better managing the time to be fully prepared for an opportunity to fly.

A quick Google search provides the definitions of grounded:

  • a parent refusing to allow a child to go out socially as punishment
  • to prohibit or prevent (a pilot or aircraft) from flying
  • a person who understands what’s important in life

When a parent grounds a child it is the parent’s experience and wisdom guiding them to deter the child’s unwanted or bad behavior.  It is a push for more positive behavior and outcomes.  When a plane is grounded, it is the experience and wisdom of the pilots, air traffic controllers, mechanics, and aviation experts who make the decision to delay the flight.  When a person is described as grounded, it is their experience and wisdom that enables them to focus on what’s important in life.  A person who is grounded can prioritize those investments of time, energy and attention that will yield the most rewarding outcomes.

When I think back on the groundings of my youth with clarity and perspective, I realize that these distraction free periods actually enabled me to be a better student.  Without the distractions of the telephone (landline in my day), parties and other outings, my focus was more intense and there was a palpable difference between being a good student and dedicating time to being a great student.  It helped add a measure of discipline to my young life that I was lacking.


And, as someone who has had my share of hours watching an airport monitor change from a flight delay to a flight cancellation, I’ve got experience being grounded in airports.  Often viewed as a waste of my time, when I again reflect with my hindsight 20/20 vision and a more mature perspective, I realize that my time was better spent focusing on how to be productive and make great use of the time while I was grounded versus focusing on what I was missing.  Just like a mechanic who is called to fix the plane, it can be my opportunity to focus on and make my own repairs and improvements.  The mechanics use this grounded time to put the plane in a better position to have a safe flight at a great altitude.  Maybe being grounded is a sign that I’m not (yet) ready to fly.

For sure, being grounded is a time to think really hard about what’s led me to this place and where I’m trying to go.  At times, it’s definitely meant that I’m burnt out.  Maybe I’ve used too much time, attention and energy on things outside of myself.  Maybe I need some physical or mental rest.  I need to refuel.  Maybe I just need time to stop neglecting my needs and focus on me.  Life’s distractions can find a way of pushing us away from our needs.  We can stop nurturing ourselves in constant haste to get from here to there and back again.


Finally, by being grounded, I can become more grounded.  Without distractions, with a focus on making better use of my time, with a focus on me, I can prioritize and truly zero in on those things that are important in life, those things that will help me get off the ground when my time is right.

Sometimes, no maturity or perspective can change the fact that being grounded can suck, especially when there seems to be no rhyme or reason why.  We don’t deserve bad things to happen to us.  I’m just learning to change my approach to how I use the time.  When it appears that there are no introspective moments that provide clarity, this may be the clear sign that it is simply just time to rest and recharge.

I’m reconstructing life after breast cancer and these lessons are much clearer to me now.  Each time I’m grounded, I have to be more attune to the chance to make the best use of my time.   The 5 important lessons I’ve learned from being grounded are:

  1. Being grounded provides an opportunity to change a behavior
  2. Being grounded provides an opportunity to focus on making (personal) improvements and working toward excellence
  3. Being grounded provides an opportunity to rest and refuel
  4. Being grounded provides an opportunity to nurture myself
  5. My changes that come from being grounded allow me to live a life that is in step with what’s valuable and important to me

At the very least, I owe it to myself when I’m grounded to be reflective and introspective to determine how to best use and manage my downtime.  During chemo, I couldn’t walk a city block without extreme fatigue.  I needed rest to heal.  Now, post treatment, I’m a distance runner who has completed a half marathon and three 10 mile races.  I hated being laid off, but found it a beautiful time to spend more time at school with my small children.  I was able to attend daytime school events and presentations, sit at school performances without a laptop in tow and a cell phone in my ear, half listening to a work conference call.  And surely one of my prayers when I was diagnosed with breast cancer was having the opportunity to watch my children grow up.  With this gift of time, I was able to do so with far less interruption from the seemingly never ending call of the corporate world.  I was able to move away from the early morning, late afternoon meetings, the stressful deadlines and the unreasonable demands of my corporate grind.  I’ve transitioned to writing, speaking, and coaching; things that I love and that provide such fulfillment and joy that I wouldn’t have been able to do while sitting in my cubicle.

As adults, we are no longer under our parents’ watch and constant care.  But, God and life have a way of redirecting us, grounding us, when we would otherwise be going in the wrong direction.  I didn’t get to the beach last weekend, but got the opportunity to spend some wonderful days with my family and friends that truly fed my soul.  When a business opportunity doesn’t come to fruition (yet), when a financial investment doesn’t show great reward (yet), when a personal opportunity doesn’t yield positive results (yet) and I’m grounded, I have to remember that it may be a sign that I need to rest and then put in more work, more planning, more preparation in order for me to be ready to take flight and soar!


Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor.  Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate.  Always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.