I find it most difficult to write about subjects that make me vulnerable.

Seeing as I am human, I don’t usually seek out opportunities to make myself appear as being weak or less than. But with that being said, I told myself from the very beginning of this writing journey that this was my chance for my voice to be heard. And the only voice of mine I want people to hear is an honest one.

So here is me, being honest.

To every action, there is a reaction (don’t worry, I’m not going to talk about physics). But in terms of a situational life standpoint, when faced with personal trials, you must make a choice as to how you are going to react.

On June 28th, 2016 I was dealt my “action."

Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma, or in English, thyroid cancer.

That’s a big word on any account, but it felt especially heavy when it was being used to describe a part of me, a scared 19-year-old who had far more questions than answers.

It’s quite easy to block things out when your mind is spinning and you can’t stop replaying that word over and over and over in your head. But in the small portion of my parent's words that I was actually hearing, I heard things like “90% success rate," “just going to remove your thyroid and you’ll be fine," and “if you have to get cancer, this is the kind you want."

After the initial shock wore off, and we started telling family and friends the news, I found myself feeling slightly overwhelmed, but confused more so than that. By this point, I had fully convinced myself that everything was going to be just fine, that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. But then came the phone calls to my mother, where I could hear a crying voice on the other end. Then came the texts, and the cards and the fruit baskets. Then came the abundance of “I’ll be praying for you”'s and “You’re being so brave.” That’s when I started to ask myself if I was really being brave or if I was just ignoring the circumstances?

I believe the real reason I had convinced myself to react in no way other than positively is because I didn’t feel like I had the right to do any differently.

I told myself that it could be worse, so much worse, and that I didn’t deserve to feel sorry for myself.

I didn’t think I was allowed to be scared because I knew that everything was ultimately going to be okay.

I want to tell you just how wrong I was.

I want you to know that there is a world of difference between pitying yourself and being afraid and that the seriousness of your situation is not dependent upon how you are allowed to react.

Being afraid does not mean that you are weak. Being afraid does not mean that you are lacking faith. Being afraid does not mean that you have to pretend like you're not.

Being afraid means that you are human. Being afraid means admitting to yourself that you're not invincible. Being afraid is a simple, normal and okay reaction.

It is now July 26, 2016, and I am thyroid free (and hopefully in 6 weeks, confirmed cancer free as well). I am no longer afraid only because I allowed myself to be at one time. I want my message to you to be that you are under no obligation to be brave. Allow yourself to feel, even if that means being afraid.