a while back we launched our
monogram collection. the best part is learning all the stories behind each of these pieces of jewelry. celebrations of life lived and lost, of loved ones so very cherished, of goals met and being pursued. so inspiring to be a part of all these women's stories.
one such story belongs to my dear dear friend Lecia. We met in college and have walked through so many major life events together.
surprising her, bright and early, on her birthday {probably like 10am}
this picture totally captures this moment so well. Lecia is cool and collected, I am TRYING to be as we pose next to my major-crush-whom-I-can't-even-bring-myself-to-get-close-to-I'm-so-nervous-now-husband. and yes we are seniors in college {not high school}.
coffee date with auntie Leesh
Lecia is the reason behind the vintage pink bead in the monogram collection. among many things -
a lover of vintage, magazine journalist, total goofball, fashionista, loyal friend, she is a survivor of breast cancer and a huge inspiration to my life. I vividly remember getting her call and the news.
this is {a small part of} her story,
I was as healthy as one could be at 26 years old-- I pirouetted
my way through at least 10 hours of ballet a week and precisely chose from a
vegetarian menu both at restaurants and at home. While browsing for a birthday
gift in-between film auditions on the 3rd street promenade in Santa
Monica, California, my 1960’s pink and yellow sundress kept catching the breeze
off the Pacific not two blocks away. Desperately trying to gain control of my
skirt’s desire to fly, I wasn’t able to find my cell until after the third
ring. A call from a doctor who had just promised me the day before that the
lump I felt in my breast would turn out to be nothing more than a cyst. After
all, I was young…and free from family history.
The conversation was one-sided. He spoke; I half listened as
giggling girls with their lattes looped around me to get to their next shopping
destination. All I heard my doctor say was that I had breast cancer, it was
aggressive and surgery was urgent. Anything else he uttered hit deaf ears which
caused me to click “end call” before he could wish me luck I obviously didn‘t
have.
Within a couple of days I was living with family friends in
the bay area. My brain felt like it had been held up to an ice pack for hours.
Numb and unfeeling. Entering surgery had me neither frightened nor anxious. It
just was something that was happening to someone who bore a chilling
resemblance to me. Nothing was real. From the moment I was given the diagnosis
to the moment I woke up to a crying surgeon that told me I had cancerous lymph
nodes and my life would be over in a year to the sessions of chemotherapy I had
with my Panama-born male nurse who repeatedly asked a dying girl out to dinner
to the sight of a trash can filled with my lost hair to the mornings of
radiation where my skin was being barbequed. Nothing about it seemed real until
it was over…and I was still alive.
Somehow through experimental drugs, the love of family and
friends, the mercy of God and the choice to explore avenues of myself that I
hadn’t previously taken time to do, I was able to keep a heart beat. I started
out my new chance with a craving for knowledge and adventure--went back to
school, became a UCLA graduate, explored Europe, Africa and South America and
fascinated myself with the cultures of each. Eventually, however, the adventure
seeker who had to “live life to the fullest” and be grateful that she was alive
at all times wore thin. As appreciative as I was for my life, I couldn’t
continue to feel like I wasn’t allowed to be a real person with varying moods
and complexities and always on display as “the girl with cancer.” I had to find my way back to real life
without losing the emotionally positive changes that had occurred within. Once
I rid myself of the anxiety that I didn’t have time on my side and could relax
into being me with goals for a future, my life developed into an existence
covered in peace. Because of the cancer I went through, I was able to open
myself up to the unexpected. A willingness to jump at opportunities or take
paths that were not part of a prior plan lead me into an unforeseen career as a
writer. For this change in perspective and for the excitement I now have in
what awaits me, I will always be grateful for cancer.
for the month of October, we will donate 5$ for each piece of
monogram collection jewelry purchased to breast cancer research. or if you want to do more, you can donate
here.
also - do your self-breast exams, Lecia was 26 when she found her lump.
here is a great reference for the correct way, you can even sign up for monthly reminders.
happy monday.
best,
kirsty
