Meet Nicole Garcia - you can follow her @nicelygarcia

There is power in VULNERABILITY and knowing when to ask for HELP.

Meet Nicole. She is always down for an adventure and is the most supportive breastie and one of the best people I know. This is her story…

I’ve trained for a lot of things in my life.

Swim meets.

Volleyball games.

Half marathons.

But I never thought I’d be training for a preventative mastectomy…

My dad was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer in 2014 and found out he carried the BRCA-1 gene.

A year later, I tested positive for the same gene (my sister, too!). 

3 years later, on a trip to Bali, I said, “F*%$ it. Let’s do this!” and decided to say farewell to the boobs

The year leading up to I checked things off my bucket list.

I got a tattoo I never knew I wanted, but LOVE (made the surgeons laugh).

Went to Coachella.

Did a Farewell to the Tatas photoshoot.

And, 3 months out from surgery, decided to kick my own ass training for surgery.

I wanted to go into my surgery as strong as possible, and I’m so thankful I did, because a week after my surgery, I dealt with something I didn’t train for. My mom, who was in LA to help me recover, had to suddenly fly home to be with my dad.

9 days after my surgery, he passed away…

I still had drains in and wasn’t cleared to fly so I was stuck in LA for over a week before I could go home. That week I learned the true meaning of strength during my weakest moment.

I’ve never been one to ask for help, but that week I survived because I asked for help.

My friends and co-workers rallied around me — bringing me food, changing my sheets, taking out my trash.

I felt so helpless, but am so blessed to have had their help.

I even met a new Breastie, Hilary! She knocked on my door, never having met me, and offered her help (and now we’re friends!)

People ask how I’ve made it through these last few months… because I leaned into vulnerability.

It’s ok to ask for help. We don’t always have to be strong. Our loved ones WANT to help us

The morning after my surgery I had called my dad. He ended the call telling me, “Everything will be ok.” And everything is ok, Dad.