Mojo and the Mess

I don’t think there’s a cool way to say this without sounding like I’m having an out-of-body experience, so I’m just going to say it.

I wrote a book.

A real one. An actual-on-Amazon, physical-book-with-pages kind of book.

And the preorder is officially live for the e book and the paperback is in the final stages to be available on Amazon as well.

Honestly, I’ve sat here staring at the screen trying to figure out how to make this announcement sound meaningful enough for what this feels like to me, and every version started sounding too polished. Too formal. Too far away from the person who actually wrote it.

Because this book wasn’t written from some peaceful little writing cabin where I was feeling inspired and emotionally stable.

A lot of it was written from my bed.
Or treatment chairs.
Or during nights where I couldn’t sleep because my brain wouldn’t stop running in circles.

Some chapters came together when I felt hopeful. Others came together when I was angry at literally everything. Some were written while trying to process the fact that my body, my future, and my life had all changed faster than I could mentally catch up to.

It’s not a perfect story.

It’s messy and emotional and honest and uncomfortable sometimes. There are parts that still hurt to read back. There are parts that made me laugh because apparently my coping mechanism is becoming funnier the worse things get.

Very healthy. Very normal.

But underneath all of it, this book is really about surviving while still trying to remain a person through all of it.

Not just a patient.
Not just a diagnosis.
Not just “the sick girl.”

A person.

And I think that’s why finally seeing it become real hit me so hard.

There were years where my entire life revolved around appointments, scans, medications, side effects, waiting rooms, and trying to act okay enough that other people wouldn’t panic.

Future plans started feeling dangerous to make.

Everything became “hopefully.”

Hopefully this treatment works.
Hopefully the scan is stable.
Hopefully I have more time.
Hopefully my body cooperates.
Hopefully I still recognize myself by the end of this.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I started writing because I needed somewhere honest to put everything I was carrying.

That eventually became  Mojo & The Mess.

And somehow, without me even realizing it at first, all of you turned it into something bigger than a blog.

You shared your stories with me too. Your grief. Your diagnoses. Your fear. Your marriages falling apart. Your survival. Your exhaustion. Your tiny wins. Your dark humor. Your moments of hope that showed up out of nowhere.

That’s the part that changed me the most.

I don’t think this book exists without this community existing first.

And now there’s this really surreal moment happening where the thing that lived in my notes app and half-finished documents and emotional breakdowns is suddenly… real.

Like real real.

I keep opening the preorder page just to make sure I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing.

The full launch is still coming on May 21, and subscribers will get the deeper behind-the-scenes look first because I wanted the people who’ve truly been here through all of this to feel part of it too.

But I couldn’t keep sitting on this anymore.

The book is real.
And after everything, somehow… so am I.

Stay messy,
Izzy & Mojo 🩶

All updates for links will be available on the keep mojo and the mess going page or my Linktree. The full release of the book including behind the scenes content will be on my birthday May 21st.

♥️