GoFundMe, Pride, and Learning to Receive

I used to think strength meant handling everything on my own. Not asking for help. Building that career. Paying the bills. Taking care of myself. Being the woman who can. Then breast cancer happened, and I found myself not only in a life-threatening situation but in one that confronted me with my beliefs about who I have to be. It cracked open the habits I’ve been carrying for years and opened a door to question them. To challenge the stories I tell about myself.

The timing of the diagnosis was a joke. We just arrived to a new country. We just started to get into everything, incl. looking for jobs, which turned out ot be pretty hard for me as an expat. Also I didn’t qualify for any support systems here. What the fuck now? That’s when my parents came to me: “We really want to help, but we don’t know how. Would it be okay to start a GoFundMe?”

I wanted to say yes and disappear at the same time.

We are live.

It felt like someone opened all the windows and the whole world could see me. Not the healthy independant me. The weak one, the scared one, the one who needed help. Nothing prepared me for seeing a chemo photo of me live on the internet. That was the moment it hit, cuz it was so fucken confronting. This is my life now. It is real. And it is public.

What didn’t surprise me was the blockade once it was live. I knew, a GoFundMe only works if it’s shared. My parents don’t have a big reach. They needed support. When my sister or friends asked, “Who can I send it to? Who am I allowed to ask?”, I felt how heavy that was in my body. I didn’t want to put it on Instagram. It felt like too much. I was struggeling so hard with the fact that people could see me like that. Sick, weak and helpless. So we started small... close friends and their networks, people I trusted from work. One careful share at a time. And then, slowly, it started spreading...

Like WTF

Love started arriving from everywhere. Old classmates. Friends from vocational school. People from jobs I had left years ago. Friends of friends. People I hadn't talked to in probably 15 years... it was mad.

Donations, yes, but also messages. "I’m here. I remember you. You saw me back then. This is how you made me feel when we worked together". People remembered specific moments and wrote them back to me. I didn’t expect to still live in that many hearts. Being loved like that was overwhelming in a way I do not have words for. I was crying all over.

The earliest donations weren’t from the people I expected. They came from names I hadn’t seen in so long that I almost forgot we once shared school corridors, bus rides, weekends. And yet, they were also the people I spent such formative years with back in my hometown.

As tired as I was of small-town life and as fast as I wanted to leave back then, this reminded me of the strength of that community and how deeply they hold each other. It was so, so beautiful.

What Everyone’s Love Did

Because of you, we could focus on us. I could focus on healing, and Aaron could be with me in those first weeks instead of rushing into work. In a place far from friends and family, that closeness was everything.

You covered the ordinary things that get heavy in a new country: transport to treatment, medications, post-surgery supplies, groceries, rent.. all the quiet bills. When you carried that weight, the pressure eased. Rest became possible.

And it wasn't only that. My sister took us in, so we had a place to crash in the beginning. Killi offered us to live with him, because it was impossible for us to find an apartment without a job. Ariana visited me and sat with me at chemo. And many more gestures that we will never forget.

For some it might have felt like “only money.” It wasn’t. It was time, breath, and space to heal. It meant I didn’t have to chase a new job while doing chemo. I will never forget that gift. Even now, I cry with gratitude.

Learning To Receive

I knew exactly what this would trigger in me and why the blockade was there. I have lived most of my life in giving mode. I left home early. I liked earning my own money and not needing help. Being the independent one became part of my identity. So when I suddenly needed help, the old voices got loud: don’t ask, don’t be weak, don’t take up space.

A good friend said something that changed my perspective:

"Let people do the part they can do. And there is really now a lot that we can do. When you refuse that, you also deny us a place to put our love."

Once I read that, something shifted. I finally understood why this was so hard for me. I have lived most of my life in giving mode. This time brought that pattern right into my face.

People often say life events like this surface deeper layers. This part was so much more that it looks on teh surface... it was a confrontation with my stories about worth, help, and being seen. And I am grateful for that.

It was the real life kind of healing. No shortcut, no ayahuasca ceremony or other tools. Because of your support, I had time to recover and also time to sit with my feelings, to break old patterns. To face what I usually avoid. To cry. To breathe. To let the waves move through.

Thank You

To my Sauerland crew: You were the first to share, the first to give, the first to remind me what home feels like. I see you and I feel your community. Thank you for holding me the way only home can.

To childhood friends who opened a dialogue again. To party friends, friends from vocational school, working colleagues, friends of friends, friends of family.... To my parents, who asked for help, when I couldn't.

To my last team in Berlin, whose generosity still makes me cry. To everyone who donated, shared, or sent even ten words. You carried us across a really hard time. THANK YOU!

I never would have dared to take this step on my own. If no one had gone first for me, my pride and my old patterns would have kept me silent. What you gave was so much more than money. You made me feel seen and cared for.

Still today people still check in, ask how I am, send a line of care. It moves me to tears, again and again. Your kindness changed me, gently, deeply and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life.

Life Coming Back

It feels like I’ve woken up from a very long winter sleep. Life energy is coming back. Every new day I notice the tiniest things and feel them fully. Waking up without pain feels like a small miracle. I can move my body again. I can watch it heal, watch it find its way back to homeostasis... all on its own.

Mentally and emotionally I feel stronger, lighter, bubblier again. Making stupid jokes or laughing at nothing. The smallest things thrill me: flowers along the street, lemons on a tree, the scent of a bloom, clouds drifting, my morning coffee. This is what it means to be alive, and I don’t want to miss it.

Three weeks ago I started a new job and I’m loving it. It's more than a job, it’s a sign that my capacity is back, in my body and in my mind. Work is helping me build connections here, giving my days a small, steady purpose, and bringing the kind of normality I craved for so long.

It feels like life is choosing me again and I get to choose it back. 💖