Like so many people diagnosed with cancer, my world was turned upside down overnight. One day I was a healthy 35-year-old mum of a 3 and 5 year old, juggling work, daycare drop-offs and the beautiful chaos of family life. The next, my calendar was filled with oncologist appointments, scans, blood tests, chemotherapy sessions and surgeries.

I do get asked, how did you find your breast cancer? It was one night in bed, I stretched out my arm to turn off the bedside lamp and I felt something graze along the bedsheet. I had that feeling of "that's not meant to be there" and I booked an appointment with my gp. No less than 10 days later I was diagnosed with HER2 positive breast cancer and was set to start chemotherapy whilst my body was put into a state of chemical menopause. What followed was radiotherapy, a mastectomy, and follow-up chemotherapy as they were not happy with my margins at surgery. Still to this day I am on medication that dries out my skin, the side effects last a lifetime.

For 18 months, dealing with active treatment to fight my cancer became my full-time job. The physical toll was relentless, but so was the emotional one. The fatigue was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Some days, simply getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain. I couldn't be the mum I wanted to be. I missed moments with my children, relied on family more than I ever imagined and constantly battled the guilt that comes with feeling like you're not able to show up the way you always have.

Cancer has a way of shrinking your world. Suddenly, your future feels uncertain, your confidence takes a hit and every day revolves around making it to the next appointment, the next treatment or the next milestone.

It changes you. And while everyone prepares you for losing your hair or feeling sick, there were so many smaller losses that nobody talked about. Losing pieces of your identity. Losing the routines that once made you feel normal. Losing the simple rituals that helped you feel like yourself. 

As I moved through chemotherapy, I quickly realised cancer doesn't just affect the parts of you that everyone sees. It affects every part of your body, including your skin. Treatments that are designed to destroy cancer cells also damage healthy ones, leaving my skin dry, reactive, inflamed and incredibly uncomfortable. Products I'd used for years suddenly stung the moment they touched my face, and it felt like my skin barrier had completely disappeared.

When I asked what skincare I should use, I was pointed towards products that looked and felt so medicinal. Many of them with ingredients I no longer wanted in my skincare. They belonged on a hospital shelf, not on a bathroom bench. While they served a purpose, they didn't give me back any sense of normality. They certainly didn't make me feel like me.

The thing is, I've always loved skincare. Not because I was chasing perfection, but because it was one of the few moments in my day that belonged entirely to me. It gave me confidence, comfort and a sense of self. Cancer had already taken so much from me, my hair, my eyelashes, my eyebrows, my right nipple, and with that a lot of my confidence.

Before cancer, I'd spent years working in the beauty industry across product development and brand management, so I understood ingredients, formulations and what made a product genuinely effective. But after my diagnosis, I looked at skincare through an entirely different lens. I became far more conscious of everything I was putting on my body and bringing into my household for me and my family, and found myself questioning ingredients I'd never thought twice about before. I wanted products that were effective without relying on unnecessary fragrances or harsh ingredients, yet everything I found seemed to want me to compromise.

I kept asking myself the same questions. Why should effective skincare come at the cost of irritation? Why did products designed for compromised skin have to feel medicinal instead of fun? Why couldn't someone going through one of the hardest experiences of their life still enjoy beautiful skincare? And the biggest one of all, why is no-one in the beauty industry looking after women like me? There was no acknowledge or representation of women going through cancer in the beauty industry. And unfortunately we are not a minority group. It made me realise that the beauty industry still considered cancer with such taboo, and I wanted a brand to change that.

That's how FUCA was born.

FUCA stands for F U Cancer. Those two words captured exactly how I felt at the time. Angry. Frustrated. Determined. But over time, FUCA has come to mean so much more than that. It became about taking back control when life felt completely out of my hands. It became about proving that sensitive skin deserves exceptional skincare, not compromise. And for many others it is a sign that something positive can be created out of life's hardest times. Every formula we create is designed to strengthen the skin barrier, support healthy skin and deliver real results while remaining gentle enough for even the most compromised skin.

One thing that surprised me was how invisible cancer felt within the beauty industry. There are millions of people living with or beyond cancer, yet you rarely see them represented. I wanted FUCA to help change that. All our campaigns feature women who have all experienced cancer themselves. Real women, real scars, real stories and incredible strength. Not because cancer defines us, but because surviving it shouldn't exclude anyone from an industry built around confidence and self-expression. Something else I am so proud of is FUCA's partnership with Breast Cancer Network Australia. A percentage of all sales goes towards supporting Breast Cancer Network Australia. The brand really is mission-lead, aimed at supporting the community that no-one wants to become a part of.

Although cancer was the reason FUCA began, it has never been only for people affected by cancer. Sensitive skin comes in so many forms, whether it's caused by eczema, rosacea, pregnancy, medical treatments, hormonal changes or simply skin that reacts to everything. Everyone deserves skincare that works with their skin instead of against it, and that's who FUCA is for.

Looking back now, cancer taught me that life can change in an instant. It taught me to stop waiting for the perfect time, to be brave enough to build something I believed in and to focus on creating something meaningful rather than simply fitting in. FUCA is my way of turning one of the hardest chapters of my life into something that helps other people.

Every product we launch reminds me why I started. Every message from someone who tells me they've finally found skincare that doesn't make their skin sting reminds me why I keep going. And every person who says they've found a little piece of themselves again through our products reminds me that this was never just about skincare. It was always about helping people feel like themselves again. If FUCA can give someone back even a small piece of what illness, sensitivity or life's challenges have taken away, then everything I've been through has found its purpose.