Make Your Bed: Small Victories During Cancer Treatment

"If you make your bed every morning you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task and another and another."

This excerpt from Admiral William H. McRaven's famous "Make Your Bed" speech has taken on new meaning for me during cancer treatment. What once seemed like simple motivational advice has become a lifeline on my hardest days.

The Days When Nothing Feels Possible

There are mornings when getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain. The chemo fatigue settles into my bones like concrete. My body aches. The fog in my brain makes even simple decisions feel overwhelming.

On those days, the idea of "accomplishing" anything feels laughable. Treatment? Doctor's appointments? Taking care of my kids? Those aren't accomplishments - they're just survival.

But then I remember Admiral McRaven's words: "By the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed."

So I make my bed.

Why Such a Small Thing Matters

It seems almost absurd - I'm fighting cancer, undergoing aggressive chemotherapy, trying to be present for my children, processing the reality that I almost didn't make it to 31. And I'm supposed to care about making my bed?

Yes. Exactly yes.

Because on the days when I can't control my white blood cell count, can't control whether the chemo makes me nauseous, can't control how my body responds to treatment - I can control whether my bed is made.

"Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that little things in life matter. If you can't do the little things right, you will never do the big things right."

McRaven is right. The little things anchor us. They remind us that we still have agency, even when so much feels out of our control.

One Task Leads to Another

Here's what I've learned: making my bed doesn't just accomplish one task. It sets something in motion.

I make my bed. Then I'm already up, so I brush my teeth. Since I'm in the bathroom anyway, I wash my face. Now that I'm feeling slightly more human, maybe I can get dressed. And if I'm dressed, perhaps I can make it to the kitchen for breakfast.

Before I know it, that one small task - making my bed - has cascaded into a morning routine that feels almost normal. Not every day, but more days than I expected.

"It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task and another and another."

Pride feels like a strong word for something as simple as straightening sheets and fluffing pillows. But when you're fighting for your life and some days just existing feels hard - yes, there is pride in making your bed. There is dignity in doing something normal when nothing feels normal.

The Gift You Give Your Future Self

My favorite part of McRaven's speech is this:

"And, if by chance you have a miserable day, you will come home to a bed that is made — that you made — and a made bed gives you encouragement that tomorrow will be better."

I cannot tell you how many times I've had a brutal day - difficult treatment, bad news from scans, overwhelming fatigue, moments of fear and doubt - and come back to my bedroom at night to find my bed made.

That bed, with its smooth covers and arranged pillows, is a gift from morning-me to evening-me. It's a message from the version of myself who had a little bit of strength, telling the exhausted version: You did something today. You showed up. You tried. Rest now.

A made bed is encouragement that tomorrow will be better. It's a visual reminder that even on the worst days, I still did something. I still had a small victory.

Changing the World Starts Small

"If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed."

I'm not trying to change the world right now. I'm just trying to survive cancer, be present for my kids, and make it to my next birthday.

But maybe that is changing the world - at least my little corner of it.

Every day I show up, even in small ways, I'm teaching my kids that you keep going even when things are hard. That you do what you can with what you have. That little tasks matter because they build momentum and dignity.

Every made bed is proof that I'm still here, still trying, still finding ways to take care of myself and my space even when my body is at war with itself.

What "Making Your Bed" Looks Like During Treatment

Some days, making my bed means hospital corners and perfectly fluffed pillows.

Other days, it means pulling the covers roughly up and calling it good enough.

And some days - the really hard days after infusions when I can barely lift my head - the bed doesn't get made at all. And that's okay too. Tomorrow is another chance.

The point isn't perfection. The point is showing up for yourself in whatever small way you can.

An Invitation

If you're going through something hard right now - cancer, chronic illness, grief, depression, any kind of struggle that makes the big things feel impossible - I want to encourage you to find your version of "making your bed."

What's one small task you can accomplish that will give you a sense of pride? That will encourage you to do another task and another?

Maybe it's:

Making your bed

Drinking a full glass of water

Taking your medication

Sending one text to someone you love

Stepping outside for two minutes

Putting on real clothes instead of staying in pajamas

Washing one dish

Pick something small. Something achievable even on your hardest days. Do that one thing, and let it be enough.

Because Admiral McRaven is right: the little things matter. They build momentum. They give you dignity. They remind you that you still have power over some part of your life.

And when you come home after a miserable day to that one small thing you accomplished - that bed you made, that water you drank, that task you completed - it will whisper to you: Tomorrow will be better. You are still here. You are still trying. That matters.

My Bed is Made Today

As I write this, my bed is made. Not perfectly - the pillows are a little crooked and one corner of the comforter isn't quite straight. But it's made.

And that means I accomplished the first task of the day. Everything else - this blog post, breakfast with my family, taking my medications, showing up for myself and others - built from that first small victory.

If you want to change your world during hard times, start by making your bed. Or whatever your version of that small, dignifying task is.

The little things matter. And so do you.

💜 Kayla

Read Admiral William H. McRaven's full "Make Your Bed" speech here. It's worth your time.