If you’re new here, hi. My name is Izzy, and this is my blog — though if you ask my French Bulldog, Mojo, he’ll tell you it’s his. (And honestly, he might be right. He’s in almost every post, and he has no shame about stealing the spotlight.)
I started Mojo and the Mess because I needed somewhere for all of it to go — the fear, the guilt, the grief, the anger, the laughter that sneaks in even when it feels out of place. This blog became my release valve, my safe space, my lifeline. But over time, it became something more than mine. It became a place where people living through their own storms could come and see themselves reflected.
Who We Are
I’m Izzy. I was diagnosed with cancer in my twenties. It didn’t stay where it was supposed to — it spread, invaded, metastasized, and forced me into a reality I never imagined for myself. I’ve lived through surgeries, chemo, radiation, hospital stays, the kind of side effects you don’t talk about in polite company, and more scans than I can count.
I write about the things people don’t usually say out loud. The kind of thoughts that sit heavy on your chest at 3 a.m. The kind of pain that doesn’t go away just because someone says, “Stay positive.” I write about guilt, and love, and loss, and the ache of living in a body that’s both alive and dying at the same time.
And then there’s Mojo.
Mojo is my grey French Bulldog, my nurse, my comedian, my shadow. He’s the one who makes sure I drink water, the one who curls up against me when I’m in too much pain to move, the one who snorts at exactly the wrong time and somehow makes me laugh through tears. He even “writes” his own posts sometimes — funny, sassy, heartfelt little stories from his point of view. Because if cancer is the mess, Mojo is the heart holding it all together.
What You’ll Find Here
This blog isn’t filtered. It isn’t always pretty. But it’s real.
Some days, you’ll read raw honesty about what it feels like to live in this body — the guilt of still being alive, the loneliness of outliving expiration dates, the fear of watching people I love slip away.
Other days, you’ll find letters. To my husband. To my family. To the friends I’ve lost to cancer. To other women going through this nightmare. To my own body.
And then, sometimes, you’ll get Mojo. He shows up with the comic relief, the sass, the funny little rants about snacks and delivery guys and his “nurse” duties. Because if we’re going to survive this, even for a little while, we need both: the tears and the laughter.
If you click on the Blog tab at the top, you’ll find dozens of posts — some that will break your heart, some that might make you laugh, and all of them written with the hope that you’ll feel less alone when you read them.
The Homepage
The Homepage isn’t just where you land — it’s where you’ll find more. I’ve collected resources there, for anyone who needs them. You’ll also find ways to support me and Mojo, because this blog has become a lifeline in more ways than one.
The homepage is the starting point, but the heart of this space is in the posts. In the words. In the truths that are sometimes hard to write, but harder to hold in.
Why I Write
I write because I don’t want my story to disappear quietly. I write because there are things people think but are too scared to say — and sometimes, when I put those words here, someone writes back, “Me too. I thought I was the only one.”
I write because grief is lighter when it’s shared. Because maybe my hurt can help someone else carry theirs.
And I write because of you. Whether you’re sick yourself, recovering, fighting for your life, grieving someone you love, or just trying to understand — you matter here. Your story matters here.
So, Welcome
Welcome to Mojo and the Mess.
Welcome to the heartbreak and the humor.
Welcome to the messy middle of living, fighting, grieving, and still somehow finding reasons to smile.
I’m Izzy. This is Mojo. Together, we’re just trying to make it through this life one day at a time, with words and snorts and way too many tears in between.
I hope you stay. I hope you read. I hope you find something here that makes you feel seen. Because none of us should have to carry this alone.
With love,
Izzy (and Mojo, who insists on getting the last word 🐾)
Mojo’s Closing Statement 🐾
“Hi, I’m Mojo. I’m the goodest boy. I take my nursing duties very seriously, but I’d like to request payment in chicken nuggets. Please and thank you. Also, Mom’s words are important, but my cuddles are free. Stick around — we’re glad you found us.”
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