Two cancers, a history of anxiety and depression, and a brain that won’t sit still. This is what the dark days actually sound like—and what it takes to make it through them, one thought, one hour, one day at a time.

On anniversaries, oysters, and getting dressed.

When everything falls apart, where do you go? This is a story about leaving, the ocean that taught me how to survive, and the moment I stopped running long enough to hear something deeper.

A week of small but meaningful progress: adding real food back in, reclaiming movement, and facing a hard decision about my body. This episode is about healing, identity, and what it means to move forward—1% at a time.

Why do I have cancer? New theory: my dog gave me cancer so I’d stay home and pet him more. It’s airtight logic… until you factor in all appointments. This episode continues the series with a highly questionable—but emotionally compelling and slightly unhinged—case against a very sweet, very suspicious, very good boy.

Nausea: controlled. Fatigue: next level. Real food: back. This is chemo week two—more data, more adjustments, and learning how to fight smarter.

On chemo pumps, prescription meds, and a rapidly declining tolerance for bullshit.

A “peanut butter and jelly” at 3:45am, a body that’s starving, and a complete rewrite of what nutrition means. This episode is about breaking every rule you’ve ever followed around food—and accepting that right now, the goal isn’t to feel good. It’s to survive.

Fascia, scar tissue, and the most boring exercises that matter the most. This episode is about surgical rehab, why starting early changes everything, and what it really looks like to get 1% better when your body feels completely wrecked.

“But you’re so young—why do you have cancer?”
It’s the question everyone asks—and one that doesn’t have a satisfying answer. This episode kicks off a new series exploring the theories, the data, the conspiracy theories, and the uncomfortable truth: sometimes, it’s just bad luck.