This week’s episode starts with church bells ringing outside my car window-
let’s enjoy them for a moment, shall we?

Now on to the meat of it!

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I was invited to participate in the Lavender & Lore event again this year. It got me thinking about the last time I was there—right in the middle of radiation and chemo. I showed up exhausted, overheated, and not very clear about where I even was in my body.

And yet… something really beautiful came out of that day.

In this episode I’m reflecting on:

✨ what it was like showing up to Lavender & Lore last year in the middle of treatment
✨ the unexpected gifts that came from it—including a dog park community that ended up helping me more than I ever expected
✨ what I lost during cancer treatment (and what I’ve let stay lost)
✨ what it means when an opportunity comes around again
✨ preparing for events when your bowels might have other plans (yes, we’re going there again)
✨ and why “my healing comes first” is still the compass I’m following

Sometimes the real abundance doesn’t show up the way we expect. Sometimes it comes sideways—through community, connection, or someone offering to walk your dog.

Love ya lots!
Jenni

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You can support the podcast as well as well as my livelihood by becoming a paid subscriber or making a donation via venmo@jenni-tooley

You are loved. No matter what.

Jenni

Welcome to Episode 2
This episode is about my first surveillance CT scan after cancer treatment wearing a body that doesn’t have a rhythm yet. Two months out from an ileostomy closure and I still don’t know when I’m going to go to the bathroom, what it’s going to be like, or how long I’m going to be in there.

The CT scan required an hour drive while fasting, and an iodine contrast. Let’s just say, my body went bonkers resulting in two Walmart bathroom stops and so much time spent on the toilet that I realized that Walmart has its own radio station.

We also get into:

• the difference between worry, anxiety, and concern

• what it means to listen to your body (or not listen to your body)

• and how healing doesn’t always look the way you think it will

Sometimes survivorship looks like just trying to make it home and being kind to yourself when your body has other plans.

This shit happens.
Like… it literally happens.

Lova ya!
Jenni

YOU ARE LOVED NO MATTER WHAT.

🤗jenni

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Hi darlin! We’re finally back! It took me long enough!
We’re here with Season 5 of the podcast! This podcast has had so many names that I’m not even going to throw one out there for you right now, but I will tell you that this season is about Cancer Survivorship. Because I am now a cancer survivor!

Welcome to Episode 1
In this episode, I talk about what it means to have a complete response to cancer treatment and still be very much in recovery. My bloodwork looks good. My scans look good. The cancer is gone. And yet I am still dealing with bowel issues, fatigue, fear, and the very real question of how exactly I am supposed to function like a normal person when my body clearly did not get that memo.

I also talk about the support drop off that happens after treatment ends. During cancer, there is a team. There are specialists. There are grants. There is support. Then suddenly you are in survivorship, still dealing with the fallout, and a whole lot of people and systems seem to think you should be fine now.

I’m not sharing this to be dramatic. I’m sharing it because people need to understand this part. Just because we are cancer-free does not mean we are back to normal.

Here’s the quick lowdown:

• what a complete response actually means after rectal cancer treatment

• life after chemo, radiation, surgery, ileostomy, and ileostomy reversal

• the reality of bowel dysfunction and urgency in post-treatment recovery

• what happened when I literally could not trust my body in public

• why survivorship after cancer can still be physically and emotionally hard

• the gap between looking well and actually being well

• Social Security disability and the impossible logic of proving you are not fully functional

• why recovery needs a new support team, even after treatment ends

Love you lots,
Jenni

Hey darlin!

My goal was to drop Episode 1 of the new season of Cancer Chronicles today,
but as I was working through the launch post, I realized that the images from the previous seasons really needed to be updated.

I thought it would be fun to ask AI if it would create an image for me.
I think we both got a little carried away.
But in the words of Cyndi Lauper: Girls Just Gotta Have Fun!

Please vote on your favorite if you like.
I don’t promise to use the winner.
But I do promise to use the beautiful image that MrJames is concocting as we speak.

Thanks to all who have supported the production campaign! We haven’t made the goal yet, but the show will go on!

Donations are still being accepted via venmo@jenni-tooley.

And subscribers are always welcome to up their game with monthly, annual, or founding member subscriptions.

Subscribe now

You are amazing!
Until next week-
Jenni

Hello, hello:)

I just wanted to take a moment here —
just a little pocket of quiet time.

I know you’re rushing to get to the next thing,
and yes, I am absolutely impeding your progress.
I’m not going to apologize for that.

Instead, I’m inviting you to just sit here with me.
For a couple of minutes.

No guided relaxation.
No meditation.
We’re not going to do anything.
We’re just going to hang.

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Getting itchy yet?
Yeah… I get that.
It’s hard to sit still sometimes —
especially when the world feels like it’s going crazy
and Apple keeps changing the iOS on my phone.

So many things to figure out.
So many problems to solve.
Mine. Yours. The world’s.

…But maybe I don’t have to.
Maybe you don’t have to either.

What if — just for now —
we didn’t fix a single thing?
What if we just sat here and took three breaths?

(pause for breath)

Wow.
You have no idea how many times I wanted to break that silence.
But I didn’t.

Were you breathing too?
I’m glad I stayed quiet —
because now, I actually feel different.

The mechanics of that are real —
it’s the nervous system,
the stress response,
the breath.

I hear things differently now.
I see things differently.
I’m here.

So —
come back to this anytime you want.
Sit with me. Hang with me.
Maybe even make a habit out of it.

See what happens.
Do a little experiment.

Know that you are loved.
And until we breathe again…

Just be.

Support the Season 5 Production Fund

• Gofundme

• zelle/paypal: jennitooley@gmail.com

• Venmo @jenni-tooley

• Send along a good joke

• Share with a friend

You are loved- always!
Jenni

Lotsa love!
Jenni

Hey darlin!

My town is a Main Street America project town. The committee that guides the initiative always comes up with simple and fun ways to connect. Yesterday I saw one of their flyers on the cork board at the natural foods store. I won’t go fully into its content, but I will tell you this: it had those little cut-out tabs across the bottom that usually contain contact info. You know, the kind you tear off and then lose on the way home?

The tabs on this flyer were a bit out of the ordinary. Instead of contact info, each one contained an encouraging saying. My favorite?

I can rest and still care.

What a simple and profound way to state what I’ve been experiencing.

This morning, I was letting that statement land in my body. It didn’t feel complete. I realized that the reason for that is because it is a passive statement- a permission slip of sorts. Then the truth landed- I don’t need permission to rest and still care.

I rest because I care.

I’m tempted to dive more deeply into the “why” but today I’m leaving it here. You can pick it up and see where it lands for you. Heck! You could even use it as a journal prompt if that fries your bacon!

If you’d like me to go further in depth, let me know and I will.

you are loved!
Jenni

PS: Thanks to Carol, Dalton, Brian, Pam, and Janet we are now $650 away from getting the upcoming season of the podcast out of my phone and onto the airwaves! March 1 is coming fast- donations are welcome via zelle: jennitooley@gmail.com, venmo @jenni-tooley, or gofundme. More info about the new season can be found here:

Subscribe now

Howdy darlin!

Since August, I’ve been talking to my phone about life after cancer and all the trials and tribulations that nobody told me would come with being a cancer survivor.

Help me get those conversations out of my phone and onto the air waves by March 1- just in time for colorectal cancer month!

I’ve raised $250- another $750 and Season 5: Cancer Chronicles: Survivorship is a go!

You can support the effort via

• Gofundme

• zelle/paypal: jennitooley@gmail.com

• Venmo @jenni-tooley

• Sending along a good joke

• Sharing with a friend

You are loved! Can’t wait to share the new season!
Jenni

PS: You can catch up on previous seasons of Cancer Chronicles/Jenni Tooley Presents right here on substack at www.jennitooley.com or on any podcast platform.

Hey darlin!
I’m in the middle of a Creative [r]Evolution.
Sometimes it scares the crap out of me but I’m stepping into it anyway.

The [r]Evolution is happening on w/Jenni Tooley, where I show up as a sovereign woman, creating structures that allow creativity, survivorship, and love to flourish.

My work is subtle medicine for complicated times.
I’m not sure where we are going, but we’re having a great time getting there!

If you are looking for a way in or a new way to participate, here’s how you can step into my Creative [r]Evolution:

• Studio Memberships – monthly or annual support helps keep this work steady and sustainable.

  Subscribe now

• Project Campaigns – right now, our Season 5 podcast campaign is 25% funded. Every contribution moves episodes from my phone to your ears.

• The Joy Jar – for spontaneous support via Venmo (@jenni-tooley), PayPal/Zelle (jennitooley@gmail.com), or Stripe.

Every dollar is a vote for joy, love, and creative medicine. Your support doesn’t just fund work — it funds the expansion of something bigger than all of us.

You are loved no matter what,
Jenni

Thank you to Janet, Brian, and Dalton for getting the ball rolling on
The Podcast Season 5: Survivorship Campaign!
25% to our goal right out of the gate! You are amazing!
Now on with “what a rectal cancer survivor thinks about on the toilet.”

Hey darlin!

When life pivoted my podcast to Cancer Chronicles in 2024, my focus was simple: to speak openly and honestly about something people didn’t want to talk about — cancer. Now that I’m on the other side of cancer, I’ve realized something else we don’t really talk about: what happens after the cancer is gone. Life is supposed to resume as normal, but I’m here to tell you — it doesn’t.

Enter Cancer Chronicles — Season 5. This season explores life after cancer: the realities of survivorship, the recovery of the body and nervous system, and the challenges of post-treatment life.

Eight episodes are already recorded. I’m asking for support to get these episodes out of my phone and onto the airwaves. The funds will help cover production costs and my labor, allowing me to edit, produce, and release Season 5. This support ensures I can continue sharing honest stories about life after cancer and celebrate survivors in our community.

What does support look like?

• Donate to the Production Fund on GoFundMe.

• Or send a little love via venmo @jenni-tooley or zelle: jennitooley@gmail.com

• Take out a paid subscription to this substack.

• Listen to the podcast.

• Share with your people.

If you can, please donate to help bring these episodes to life and celebrate a survivor* by leaving their name in the comments.

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported Cancer Chronicles—let’s keep the goodness coming! Your support means the world to me and to everyone navigating life after cancer.

Can’t wait to share the new season :)
Love ya lots!
Jenni

*In my book, survivorship includes anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer — wherever they are on that journey. Survivorship doesn’t end at death. No one loses a fight.

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What does it mean to be a “bad-ass”?

Being a bad-ass had strong testosterone, superman, violent associations for me for most of my life. At its most general, it meant that I needed to overachieve, push harder, prove to the world how much I could handle, do, fix. But the bad ass goal posts moved just a little further down field. Then across the road. Then into another state.

At that time, I was fighting wars that were not winnable. Heck, they weren’t even not mine to fight, particularly when it came to living with addiction. I didn’t realize that feeling weak, worthless, and like a failure had nothing to do with who I was- it had to do with the fact that I was choosing to fight against an unbeatable foe, engage in relationships where I couldn’t possibly be prioritized, and accept unacceptable behavior from myself and others.

Today my bad-assery can actually be realized because it isn’t dependent on anyone else’s definition but my own.

Today I choose to be a bad-ass CH kitty momma, a bad-ass napper, a bad-ass peace holder.

I choose to engage with those people who leave me feeling clear, steady, or uplifted.

I choose to accept life on its own terms while still being very firm with myself about what I require to live a full rich life.

I choose to watch my fish friends do their fishy things rather than fire up my anxiety by watching the antics of the media.

I choose me.
I choose you.
I choose love.

What do you choose?

Until next time-
You are a bad-ass- loveable in all your bad-assery!
Jenni

If ya like it and want more, comment, subscribe, and/or send a little ❤️ via Venmo @jenni-tooley or zelle:jennitooley@gmail.com

Today I am sharing an amazing gift from MrJames-
with whom I was in collaboration without really knowing it!
I cannot describe in words what this is or how much I love and appreciate it.

Open it. I dare you.

Salon De Poo Too Compressed

21.2MB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

Okay. So. Here’s a story for you.

Nov 16, 2025: No matter how you cut it, coming or going from my house means climbing a steep hill. It’s the kind of hill that requires so much focus that my brain usually turns off for a while. But not today. Today my brain was on a hamster wheel about a little coinky-dinky that happened earlier as my bowels were trying to figure out how best to work without all their parts. (More on that later…)

Rewind to toilet time: I opened up Libby on my phone. Actual books left the premises shortly after I got a puppy. If you’ve had a pup, you know why I no longer check out books from the IRL library. I’d finished the cozy mystery I was reading and was ready for the next in the series but…someone had already checked it out! Argh. How was I going to get through this waiting game?

Luckily, I had a notice that a new issue of one of the few magazines I subscribe to had arrived—La Maison Something Something (it’s French; I only remember the La Maison part, which means “house”). Yep, you guessed it. An interior design magazine.

I was immediately drawn in. So many beautiful images. One was of a room with this peculiar shade of green cabinets paired with a black quartz countertop. I had just seen this combo in a real estate listing and thought: Good god. Who chose those? But in the magazine it looked gorgeous, set against a William-Morris-inspired wallpaper. And I thought: “Wow. I actually love that.” Which made me think back to that house and reconsider it as an option.

It was synchronicity. The Universe speaking to me: don’t dismiss that option.

Meanwhile, my dog had been waiting (im)patiently for me to finish my morning ablutions and was confused about why we weren’t still asleep. (Unexpected early morning vet visit for the cat.) But in her mind, if we’re not asleep, we should be doing something. Rather than fight it, I took her for a walk. Beautiful fall morning. We don’t get many of those. (Plus, I really didn’t want to deal with the barking if we didn’t go. Nor did the cat, who condition was stress-related and whom was already stressed out from his early-morning vet visit.)

The Walk: So, Nettie and I take off on our grand adventure—even a 20-minute walk is a grand adventure when you’re still recovering from 18 months of cancer treatments and surgeries. I’m trudging. Nettie is hopping and sniffing. My brain is still spinning on the Green-and-Black Cabinet Synchronicity, trying to intellectualize (meaning nix) the idea that the universe was helping me out.

Oh! Did I mention I was tired and didn’t have the energy to deal with people or other dogs, so I’d asked God to arrange this walk for us as we walked out the door?

Okay. Trudging. Sniffing. We crest the hill, and I look up and—wham! Where the stop sign usually is…there is a stop sign with a dress hanging on it. (We can talk about the safety implications of that in the future.)

If you live somewhere else, you may be thinking: that’s weird.
If you live here, you’re probably thinking: and?

Here’s the “and.”
THE DRESS was mine.

What???

THE DRESS origins: Let’s back up. This was not an ordinary dress. This was a costume I wore in a play around 1991 at the University of Texas at Dallas, starring myself, a thirteen-year-old Nick Stahl (who had just shot The Man Without a Face with Mel Gibson and would later star in Terminator 3 and In the Bedroom), and TJ Thyne (who would go on to mass stardom for his role as Hodgins in Bones). Life is weird, right?

The play was set during the Holocaust and followed the journey of a man and a group of children being walked to a concentration camp by an unhinged Nazi soldier. Yes, I could still play a teenager. Yes, most of us died on the journey.

Fast-forward 34 years: I’ve moved a lot—about every four years. Across the country twice, across Texas (which is basically across the country) twice, and then between states again. I’ve had two life experiences where I lost pretty much everything. I’ve struggled financially a good chunk of the time. My last move included a few family furniture pieces, 40 boxes, two aquariums, and two cats. (One must prioritize.)

My house is little—750 square feet. Not tiny enough to qualify as a tiny house. (Once again, I miss the trend boat.) It holds my animal family, my personal space, and my studio. We are piled up.

I’ve been dragging around boxes of clothes—none of which I will ever wear again (thank god; no woman of my stature should wear a 0). Some were handed down from my grandmother that I could never wear in the first place (there must have been negative sizes in the 60s and 70s). But I had emotional ties, so I kept them.

Cancer journeys are fantastic tie-cutters.

So, I decided I was brave enough to let go of one box. AND I had an in with a local consignment shop that wanted them. Win win win win: less clutter, less baggage, someone else gets joy, cash in my pocket.

Beautifully tailored clothes from the 60s–90s, appeared before my eyes. And then under the purple rayon velvet turtleneck I wore for my senior pics…I saw it. A ripped, torn, filthy, German-country, peasant-y thing: THE DRESS.

Holy snorklebunnies. What’s that doing in here?

There were a few other costume pieces (including the freaking awesome cape from Legend my mom made me), so I figured: well, this is timely. Halloween’s coming. Perfect. THE DRESS is already “distressed” (design language for torn up and dirty) so it’ll be a perfect zombie crawl dress.

THE DRESS Afterlife
Sighting 1: A couple weeks after I dropped the dress off at the consignment store, I drive by and there it is: THE DRESS. Hanging on an outdoor mannequin in all its glory. And it had been washed. Huh? Fine. I’m sure it stunk. Still distressed, still zombie-worthy.

Sighting 2: Post-Halloween. The shop owner decides she too has way too many clothes. She does a 75%-off sale (which I took advantage of) and then leaves the leftovers in boxes at the base of a tree with a big “free” sign.

You know I nearly caused an accident as I braked and swerved into the parking lot.

I dug through the boxes thinking: Wow! Here’s the thermal I need, here’s a pair of 7 For All Mankind jeans I need, here’s a canvas bag I need so I can get all these clothes home. And then: Holy crap, here’s THE DRESS. I was disappointed that no one had bought it- I mean it carries some seriously awesome zombie juju but I thought: c’est la vie maybe someone will take it for next Halloween. And lugged my 30 pounds of goodies to the car in previously noted canvas bag.

Sighting 3: Today. Mid-November. THE DRESS is the furthest thing from my mind. I’m dealing with present-day stuff, trudging up the hill, my mind trying to push away the Green-and-Black Cabinet Synchronicity because surely, I can’t afford that house and, and.., and… I look up and there’s THE DRESS. Hanging from a STOP sign. On a hanger. With dead leaves stuck all over it.

Explain that, brain.

And here we are: There’s a saying in Recovery circles: When it’s time for change, God will knock on the door. If you don’t listen, God will bang on the door. If you still aren’t paying attention, God will tear the door off.

In those terms:
The kncok was the Green-and-Black Cabinet Synchronicty.
The bang was the THE DRESS on the STOP sign.
I’ve had it happen one too many times to want to know what tearing the door off looks like.

I’m listening…
love ya!

Jenni