You have breast cancer." At 34, in the prime of my life and my singing career, those were the last words I ever expected to hear from my doctor--especially since there was no history of the disease in my family. I wondered if I was going to die in a day, a week or a year. But I quickly learned that a diagnosis of breast cancer is not a death sentence. Because I had gotten a mammogram, the cancer in my left breast was caught early; after a partial mastectomy and six weeks of radiation, I was declared "cancer-free."

While my body was forever changed, it was my perspective on life that was even more dramatically altered. The doctors said that radiation would make me tired and I thought, Yeah, right. I have so much energy, I figured it would bring me down a notch, to normal. So I continued with my hectic schedule. I shot a video less than a week after the biopsy. I let TV cameras follow me around prior to and right after my surgery to get the message out about breast cancer. I started writing a new album. My attitude was, If I get tired, I'll take a quick break, then I'll get right back to work. It so didn't turn out that way.

A few weeks into treatment, I became a shell of my former self, yet I continued to push on. It was only when I didn't have an ounce of energy left to sing that I got scared. The radiation didn't just take away my voice, it took away my electricity, my power source. I knew I had to step back and stop trying to be everything to everyone. I started to think of radiation as a girlfriend telling me to slow down and take care of myself--and I finally listened.

Slowly but surely, I learned how to bring more balance to my life. I wanted to start investing in the health of my body as well as my mind, and that goal has stayed with me even three years after treatment. I now give myself days off (something I'd never done before). And while it was difficult (my arm atrophied a lot from the treatment), I've started exercising regularly for the first time. I do Bikram yoga; for me it's not about getting a hot bod; it's a way to take time out from my busy life and get in touch with me. My favorite activity of all is hiking in the hills near my home, where the views are beautiful, inspiring and rejuvenating.

Cancer brought out an unexpected femininity in me, too. I had seen myself as a tough chick, dressed in leather, always wearing my signature dark glasses. But now I find myself wanting to be softer, and I'm exploring that side of my personality. I don't care anymore if I have a perfect face--or scars. This is what I look like, and it's okay: I now know that beauty isn't about having perfectly round breasts or a flawless complexion; it's about who I am on the inside, and I have cancer to thank for that insight.