From Diagnosis to Advocacy – Two Women,Two Journeys, One Message
- Dec 12, 2025
- 5 min read
Updated: Dec 13, 2025
Cali Werner, PhD, is a licensed clinical social worker, sport psychology consultant, and elite distance runner who specializes in OCD and anxiety treatment. She is the Director of Referral Relations at the OCD Institute of Texas and founder of Athlete Rising.
Most people can recall moments of worry, lying awake wondering whether they locked the front door or replaying a conversation on loop to make sure they didn’t offend someone. These can be familiar human experiences. But for some, anxiety escalates into something far more consuming.
And sometimes, the things that upend our lives aren’t invisible thoughts at all, but life-altering diagnoses delivered in a single phone call.
This is a story about both. A story of OCD and triple-negative breast cancer. A story of two women whose lives diverged and later intertwined again. And a story about how very different challenges can reshape lives and how connection helps people rebuild meaning.
When a silent disorder reshapes your life
Cali’s story
For years, I didn’t know I had Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I was a Division I distance runner at Rice University, a nine-time conference champion who looked disciplined and strong from the outside. Inside, I was unraveling.
I’d spent my childhood battling a form of OCD called Scrupulosity, intrusive fears about offending God, compulsive prayer rituals, over-apologizing, confessing thoughts I didn’t choose, and believing that I was “dangerous” simply because of the images my brain produced. Like many, I thought OCD was just handwashing or organizing. I didn’t know OCD had multiple subtypes, many of which are taboo, misunderstood, or too shame-filled for people to talk about.
By college, my disorder escalated. I feared I’d harm myself or someone else, a subtype of OCD known as harm OCD. At the time, I did not know that individuals with these OCD fears are the least likely to ever act on them. So the thoughts led me to avoid stairwells, public places, and even being alone. What looked like a promising athletic career became a private prison. OCD stole joy, identity, and connection, until I finally told my coach the truth. That moment changed everything.
“This sounds like OCD,” Coach Jim Bevan, the Rice women’s track and field coach, stated. Naming it didn’t cure me, but it gave me hope. Through Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP), the gold-standard therapy for OCD, my brain slowly began to untangle itself. I learned to face intrusive thoughts without rituals. I reclaimed my life, my sport, and even went on to compete in the U.S. Olympic Trials marathon.
Today, I’m an OCD and anxiety specialist, working to educate others so they don’t wait the average 17 years it takes to receive proper care. No one should suffer in silence because of stigma or misunderstanding. My recovery became my calling, helping others find the freedom I fought so hard to regain.
When cancer becomes the plot twist you never asked for
Hannah’s story
Hannah Gesford was living a completely different life, as a stay-at-home mom and self-taught dried-floral artist running a thriving preservation business she built from her kitchen table. Life was full, busy, and finally becoming normal again. She and her husband, Ryan, had just started getting the hang of life with a newborn when a tiny freckle in Ryan’s eye turned into something devastating, ocular melanoma.
They juggled surgery, treatment, and recovery, and just as they exhaled at his two-year cancerversary, Hannah’s phone rang.
“Your breast biopsy came back, and it’s malignant.”
At 27, she was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer, the fastest-growing type that demanded aggressive treatment. For two years, she endured chemotherapy, immunotherapy, radiation, a bilateral mastectomy, failed reconstruction surgeries, hospital admissions, and the emotional whiplash that comes with every step forward or backward.
Cancer is rarely “cute,” despite October’s pink ribbons and slogans. It’s messy, vulnerable, terrifying, and painfully exposing. Hannah faced triggers as medical trauma opened old wounds and overwhelmed her nervous system.
Still, she met it all with honesty, humor, and grit. She documented her journey in real time, which became Cancer, But Make It Cute, a compassionate companion for anyone trying to survive something life never prepared them for. Along the way, she found unforgettable beauty and learned unexpected lessons from the people who showed up with love.
Where our stories collided again
We met in junior high, two girls who played volleyball, watched Degrassi, and spent summers on the lake together. Our lives eventually drifted in different directions, marked by very different battles. For me, the invisible war with OCD. For Hannah, the physical and emotional war with cancer.
It wasn’t until adulthood, during one of the most difficult seasons of Hannah’s life, that our stories reconnected. She reached out as she began writing her book. “I recognized the rawness, the anxiety, the intrusive fears, the grief that comes with a diagnosis you didn’t choose,” Hannah stated. Hannah then read Cali’s writing on OCD and, for the first time, realized that she, too, carried her own mental burden.
We edited each other’s work. We encouraged each other’s healing. Two very different experiences, with overlapping emotional themes.
Because while these experiences are fundamentally different, many people recognize emotionally similar themes.
Fear of the unknown
Grief for the life you had
Anxiety that spirals faster than you can catch it
Identity shaken
Strength redefined
Community is as necessary as oxygen
And ultimately, finding meaning in your pain
Why we’re sharing this journey now
Anxiety, trauma, and burnout are at an all-time high. People are silently suffering, whether from a mental health condition, a medical diagnosis, or emotions they’re afraid to speak aloud.
Our message is simple, you are not alone.
OCD is not a personality quirk. Cancer is not a pink campaign. Both are complex. Both require evidence-based care. Both demand compassion. And both deserve voices that tell the truth.
Through our advocacy, writing, therapy work, and lived experience, we want to normalize seeking help, whether through ERP, counseling, support groups, or community care. Suffering does not make you weak. Speaking up does not make you dramatic. Healing is not linear, but it is possible.
The power of community, courage, and connection
Our journeys look different, but the heartbeat underneath is the same:
A diagnosis, whether medical or psychological changes you.
Healing rewrites you.
Community holds you together in the in-between.
And vulnerability, real, honest vulnerability, is what turns survivors into advocates.
If our stories do anything, we hope they remind people that your intrusive thoughts do not define you. Your diagnosis does not diminish you.
Your story may be the lifeline someone else needs. And you don’t have to walk any of it alone.
Read more from Cali Werner
Cali Werner, Director of Business Development and Behavior Therapist
Cali Werner, PhD, LCSW-S, CMPC, is a clinician, sport psychology consultant, and elite distance runner whose work bridges high-performance athletics and mental health. As Director of Business Development at the OCD Institute of Texas, an intensive treatment facility that treats OCD, anxiety, and related disorders, and founder of Athlete Rising, she specializes in treating athletes struggling with OCD, anxiety, and perfectionism. Drawing on her experience as a Division I runner, where she won 9 conference championships, at Rice University, her participation in the 2020 U.S. Olympic Trials marathon, and her doctoral research on Olympian mental health, she integrates personal insight with evidence-based practice.
