by Michelle Bermudez
5/24 A moment I won’t forget.
In May of last year, a routine mammogram and sonogram revealed a mass in my left breast.
It was the kind of moment that split time.
After weeks of sleepless nights, quiet prayers, and a biopsy that left me holding my breath, I finally received the news: it was benign.
We danced. We exhaled.
But I knew — the mass wasn’t just physical.
It was energetic. Emotional.
It was my body saying: “There’s something you haven’t felt yet.”
The Wake-Up Call Beneath the Surface
Since that moment, I’ve been going in every quarter to monitor the mass. And every time, a part of me braces for impact — the body remembering what it’s like to be unsure, unheld, afraid.
But as those appointments came and went, I also began to notice something deeper surfacing. I started calling it my blocked heart — not just metaphorically, but somatically.
There were tears I hadn’t cried.
Heartbreaks I hadn’t mourned.
Parts of me I had silenced in the name of being strong, agreeable, or accommodating.
Learning to Listen Differently
In late June, we danced as the test results showed it was benign. In that moment, I realized that true healing wasn’t going to come from scans or tests alone. My body was expressing something deeper, a warning if you will. My body was communicating something deeper—a warning, if you will. I realized that healing would come through intention. Through care. Through softness.
So I began to tend to the places that had hardened:
- I gave myself permission to cry — not once, but often.
- I booked regular lymphatic massages, letting hands move grief through places words couldn’t reach.
- I surrounded myself with animals, nature, and moments that reminded me I was still alive and life is worth living.
- I took that birthday trip to Spain and danced in the streets, floated in the ocean, and participated in a retreat instead of hosting one.
- I started saying “no” and communicating my hurt, even when I worried it might disrupt the peace around me.
- I stopped abandoning myself for the comfort of others.
This wasn’t about becoming someone new.
It was about remembering who I was, underneath all the self-protection.
This Might Be Your Year, Too
Healing isn’t always graceful.
Sometimes it drags us to the edge of what we thought we could handle.
It asks us to stop pretending,
to stop pushing through,
to pause long enough to feel what’s real.
A fractured heart doesn’t whisper — it insists.
It nudges us toward the mirror.
It asks: Are you ready to stop disappearing inside your own life?
These turning points don’t always look like revelations.
Sometimes they show up as a diagnosis.
Or the moment you realized you’ve been swallowing your truth for years.Or the silence that followed after you gave so much.
If you’ve ever carried something heavy —
in your body, in your spirit, or deep in your chest —
you’re not alone.
And you are definitely not failing.
You’re in the middle of becoming.
Of softening in the places that once felt guarded.
Of growing stronger in ways the world might not notice.
Of being more honest than ever before about what you need.
Not perfect.
Not all figured out.
Just more you than you’ve ever been.
Are you in your season of remembering or returning?
I’d love to hear how your body has been speaking to you — or holding you. Feel free to share your story in the comments, or send me a private message.
Let’s keep healing, together.
RESOURCES:
National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program
https://www.cdc.gov/breast-cervical-cancer-screening/index.html
Susan G. Komen Patient Care Center https://www.komen.org/support-resources/patient-care-center/
Planned Parenthood https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/cancer/breast-cancer
Your local Department of Health.