After finding out she has cancer, I'm teaching my daughter to swear at her tumor. It's the right amount of anger and deviance she needs to keep going.

• My 8-year-old daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor after she had significant vision loss.
• One night she asked me if she could say a bad word to her tumor, which I allowed.

When I ordered the personalized mug for my 8-year-old daughter, I worried it would be flagged as inappropriate and they wouldn't print it. One side has a photo of her, sporting a bright pink hat and beaming; the other side says: "F*ck you tumor! You're out of here! Really, f*ck off! You're yeeted! Bye!"

We didn't start off swearing at my daughter's brain tumor. While "Fuck cancer" is fairly common these days, it's generally reserved for adults. Kids, on the other hand, are supposed to be inspirational heroes, sad and bald but perpetually hopeful.

Turns out perpetual optimism is a lot of pressure.

My daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor

After losing significant vision in a short time, my daughter was diagnosed with an optic pathway glioma. Soon after her diagnosis, she began a two-year clinical trial consisting of daily oral chemotherapy and extensive ongoing tests to monitor both her tumor and any negative impacts on her heart and other organs. She also went through an exhausting skin-care regimen in an attempt to stave off the infections that are a common side effect of her medication.

Her diagnosis and treatment transformed her from a happy-go-lucky kid whose mission in life is to "be kind and help people" to one frequently overcome by sadness and anxiety.

As the medicine worked on her tumor, we worked on the emotional fallout.

We found her a therapist, connected to support groups, and collaborated with her school on an educational plan to address her academic and social-emotional needs. We envisioned her tumor shrinking and wrote songs for "Tumor the Musical."

I listened and validated her feelings, and once we hid in the closet, screaming into pillows. Still, something missing was missing.

We allowed her to swear at her tumor

One night before bed, she turned to me and asked, "Can I say a really bad word to my tumor?"

Turned out her pretty bad word was "shitty." After specifying it was something she could only do at home, I said yes. I went first.

"Get out of here you shitty, stinking tumor!" I said, watching her eyes light up.

"Get out of my head you shitty, poop-face tumor," she responded, breaking into a smile.

"Shitty" was the gateway curse. Within weeks we'd added the A-word and the F-word to our repertoire.

We're not sitting around cursing all day. She usually asks at night, when the darkness exacerbates her anxiety. Even her 11-year-old brother gets in on the action. The three of us work hard to one-up each other until we are inevitably rolling with laughter. For my son, it's an easy way for him to support his sister through the harder parts. "You shitty stinking tumor, if you don't leave my sister alone, I'm gonna flame you into another dimension, you effing flutterbutt."

To be clear, I'm not recommending our cursing strategy for everyone. In fact, my therapist would caution there are many situations where it's a bad idea, such as when angry or critical cursing is already prevalent in the home or if kids identify with their tumor, making the cursing feel like negative self-talk. But for my daughter, sometimes a little deviance and anger on her own terms is exactly what she needs.

"It's fun and it makes me happier when I'm feeling sad," she explained to me. "I want my tumor to know I'm a rock star and I'm going to keep cursing until it gets out."

The mug made it through and when she opened it on Christmas morning, she squealed with delight as she read it aloud: "F*ck you tumor! You're out of here!"