Yan-Kay Crystal Lowe has been an actor and director for nearly three decades. She first broke through with roles in Stargate SGI, The L Word, Final Destination 3 and Center Stage: Turn It Up. Now 44, the mom of two — a daughter, 9, and a son, 3, with her husband, Miko Tomasevich — is a regular on Hallmark Channel, both in front of and behind the camera. She stars in the network’s Signed, Sealed, Delivered movie series and became the first to complete the Make Her Mark directing mentorship program for women. She has since directed Shifting Gears with Tyler Hynes as well as several other projects for Hallmark, Lifetime, Roku and others.

In a touching personal essay for PEOPLE, Lowe reveals her recent diagnosis with stage 3 breast cancer and shares intimate details of its discovery, her reactions, and how she faced her first round of chemo.

Like many women, I have always had a love-hate relationship with my body. Long before it gave me my two beautiful children, I was a bikini model in magazines like Maxim, and, early in my acting career, I spent many years playing roles that were hyper-focused on how I looked. And I felt that pressure, constantly checking my body, adjusting, second-guessing whether I was “enough”. It was a quiet battle, fought daily.

Things began to shift when I landed the role of Rita Haywith on Signed, Sealed, Delivered for the Hallmark Channel. For the first time I was being seen for my craft. But, if I’m being honest, the mirror still calls me sometimes. I still check in. I still look. Only this last time, it wasn’t about my insecurity. It was about something much more important: my health.

In February of 2025, while getting ready one morning, I noticed a large mass in my right breast. In that moment, everything else fell away. At first, I thought I had sprained a muscle while working out. To be safe, I immediately went to my doctor who ordered a mammogram and guided ultrasound, but found nothing. “The breast is just one of those things,” they said casually. “It’s a mystery…”

Cut to a couple of months later: The mass was still there, but it was changing in size and placement, and my confusion (and fear) kept growing. I didn’t feel any pain, but my nipple became inverted, so I went back to the doctor.

The mass measured 10 centimeters. This time, my doctor wasn’t so casual; I was rushed for a blind biopsy. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor gently placed his hand on my arm and said, “Honey, I can’t be sure, but this feels like cancer.”

I just stared at him, blinking as if I hadn’t heard him correctly. “I don’t have cancer,” I thought. “That’s crazy.” But deep down, something inside me whispered, “What if?”

Three days later, my G.P. called to say I had Invasive Carcinoma in one of the ducts. I still remember getting off the phone, curling up into a ball, and just bawling.

My amazing husband gracefully gave me that space to process, and then, about an hour later, allowed my three-year-old into the bedroom dressed in his new Spider-Man costume. I couldn’t stop laughing as he struck pose after pose, making sound effects like he was shooting webs from his wrists. They say it’s laughter, but our children really are the best medicine.

When I saw my surgeon again, I was under the impression that my cancer was Stage 2 moderate, and I just wanted it out. But after a battery of more tests, it was clear that cutting before chemo wasn’t in the cards.

On a rainy Friday in late August, I learned that I had Stage 3 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.

Essentially, I’m looking at the whole deal: chemo, double mastectomy, radiation and, eventually, implants… As someone who’s never had any major illness, it was a lot to digest. I went on social media, desperate to find other women like me — which is a big reason I’m sharing this story with PEOPLE. Hearing other people’s stories and absorbing their amazing tips, like asking for ice chips or a bag of saline when you go in for chemo, has helped more than I can say.

My next step was to call my colleagues. When I called Annie Howell at Hallmark to tell her the news, I was terrified. What if I never work again? What if they forget me? But nothing could be further from the truth. Annie and the entire Hallmark family embraced me fully, and told me that they had my back.

Once the dust settled, I had a week to mentally prepare myself for my first round of chemo. I tried so hard to push the nerves away as I walked through the door, but as I sat in the waiting room, I remember tucking my knees up under my oversized sweater, wanting so desperately to disappear.

“Ms. Lowe? It’s time.”

I got up, and slowly followed the nurse as she guided me to my chemo chair. I still remember seeing that bell, forcing myself to visualize ringing it when this whole nightmare was over.

My heart raced as the nurse walked toward me with a vile of “The Red Devil,” the nickname that Doxorubicin had been given over the years. The fear was indescribable. “Wait! Stop! You can’t put that in me yet!” I needed a minute. I had to change the narrative and take agency over this whole f——- thing, but how?

I quickly thought, “What’s the best thing in my life that’s red?” Then it hit me: My mother and aunts are all fiery redheads. Warriors in their own right. So I decided to look at my chemo as a warrior. I named her the most Scottish name I could think of, Agnes McDonald. Agnes would be my fierce warrior who would battle “Barry,” the nickname I’d given to my cancer.

I asked my husband to pull up an image of a Scottish warrior with fiery red hair and a massive sword. He complied. Once I had that image in my mind, I put on the Braveheart soundtrack (yes, I’m dramatic), and for the first time since my diagnosis, I felt strong. I (and Agnes) was ready for battle.

First, shrink the tumor as much as we can, in order to give the surgeon the best chance of getting it all out. Second, see a naturopath who works with oncologists to suggest the best foods to put in my body that will help with recovery. And third, recognize that a positive mental state is KEY to the healing process.

Through it all, there is also one thing that has become abundantly clear.

I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by so much love and support. My husband and family, have been my rock. And my friends? They’ve wrapped me up like a blanket — visiting, checking in, cleaning my house and creating an incredible meal train that has fed my body and my heart.

And then there’s my industry… Hollywood often gets a bad rap, but when you work with people who love you, they show up. My producers on my upcoming film, Michael Barbuto and Joel S. Rice with Muse Entertainment, as well as Lisa Soper, have moved mountains so that I could continue to direct my movie for Roku remotely.

And on the Hannah Swensen series with Hallmark, Alison Sweeney and Craig Baumgarten have shifted schedules so I may be able to direct the next one when my treatment is complete. Jeff Schenck with Hybrid Entertainment graciously purchased my wigs, and even offered unlimited transportation to any of my appointments. And Hallmark… Let’s just say I have never been more grateful to be a part of a family that practices the values they preach. I am eternally grateful.

If I have one message for all of you, I guess it would be this: This journey has been scary, strange, and humbling. It has stripped me down in ways I never saw coming, physically, emotionally and spiritually. And yet… I promise to persevere. To turn poison into medicine. To grow. That’s what I’m learning every single day.

If you’re walking a hard road too, just know, you’re not alone. We may not get to choose what happens to us, but we do get to choose how we meet it. And I’m meeting it — with my sword raised, my heart open, and taking it one step at a time.