Mojo and the Mess

by Mojo and the Mess

I thought my twenties would be about building a life — finding who I was, what I loved, and where I belonged.

Instead, I’ve spent most of them learning how to let go.

There’s something gut-wrenching about hearing the words “terminal” and “twenties” in the same sentence. You’re too young for the sympathy eyes and too old for anyone to believe you’re not strong enough to handle it. People say things like “You’re so brave” when you’re just trying to breathe through another round of scans or side effects that feel like your body turning against itself.

I never imagined I’d be the girl with a pill organizer bigger than her purse. The one who knows every nurse on a first-name basis. The one whose calendar is filled with appointments instead of adventures. I was supposed to be chasing dreams, not test results.

But life doesn’t wait for your plans to catch up.

At first, I tried to keep up with everyone else — the weddings, the baby announcements, the promotions. I’d scroll through their milestones and wonder what my next chapter would look like, knowing deep down that mine might not be as long. It hurt in ways I couldn’t explain. Like watching everyone else run a marathon you trained for but never got to start.

Then one day, I stopped comparing.

Because somewhere between the hospital hallways and the long nights on the couch, I realized — I am still living. It just looks different.

Living looks like sitting outside with Pete and feeling the sun on my face.

It looks like writing this blog and knowing my words will outlive me.

It looks like Mojo snoring beside me while I cry, and somehow that being enough.

I’ve had to accept that my life might not be long, but it’s going to be full.

Full of love.

Full of meaning.

Full of moments that remind me I mattered.

I used to think the goal was to grow old. Now I think the goal is just to grow — even if you don’t get as many years as you wanted.

Maybe my twenties didn’t go as planned.

But they were real. They were mine. And they taught me more about strength, grace, and being human than a lifetime ever could.

🐾 Mojo’s POV

Mom says “terminal” like it’s the end of something, but I don’t see it that way.

I still wake her up every morning for breakfast. I still make her laugh when she wants to cry. I still curl up beside her every night and remind her — she’s not alone.

If you ask me, her twenties weren’t terminal. They were unstoppable.

And if love could fix her, she’d have been cured a thousand times by now.

💭 Closing Note

For everyone living in borrowed time — you’re not running out of life; you’re just living it louder.

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