I am Trying to Find my Pathway to Healing

IT’S A SLOW AND PAINFUL PROCESS

Good Lord. The memories Facebook brings up. I look at them and think, “Yeah, there were tumors growing in my boobs and I was blissfully ignorant.”

Well, here. I’m talking about non attachments. Little did I know I was just months away from severing my boob attachment. And I’m not using metaphor here.

There is a line in the life of a cancer survivor. Life before cancer and life after cancer.

It’s a tension-filled liminal place to mourn the life I had before cancer and hold gratitude that I still get to live. Talk about polarizing emotions. It’s hard shit.

I was just getting on my feet emotionally after my marriage ended. I was in the gym almost every day and was in great shape. Tom entered my life and there were (and still are!) sparks of happiness. I had a lovely job with great people and my phone started ringing with organizing requests. (I was starting up my organizing business after Covid shut it down.) Oh, there was Ruthie too. My cat.

Such a bright future! Insert screechy record sound here.

What does life look like after cancer? Well, to state the obvious, I have no boobs. My hair got pretty thin from chemo, but it is coming back. The estrogen blocker I will be on for the next 5–7 years is not without its side effects.

Emotionally it’s hard to measure the changes.

What I wish I could say is that I have been to the Fount of Wisdom and Shiny Enlightenment and now I’ve got this whole what’s-the-purpose-of-my-life figured out.

I’ve long been curious about near-death experiences and how people who have experienced them are often changed for the better.

I wasn’t on the brink of death. But the existential threat to my life was/is real.

What are the other differences? I’m just not sure. It all feels quite gray right now. I know I need to get after life. Jump in with both feet and appreciate each day.

That feels just hard right now. Especially when I see other cancer patients who got it much, much worse. I invalidate my experience because I got off easy. Wazzup with that?

As far as breast cancer goes, I was one of the “lucky” ones. We caught it early and it was of the garden variety type-the category that makes up 70% of breast cancers. And fortunately, this is the type that has received the most research and has favorable long-term survival.

There is a fear of recurrence, but also an awareness of how death may come calling at any time-regardless of what escorts me out of this life. On some level, all of us know that NONE of us are going to get out of this alive. But the acute awareness of this truth is another matter.

I tend to chastise myself. And “should” on myself. I SHOULD be back operating where I was at before cancer. And my long elusive dictate to self: You need to get your shit together.

What does that even mean? Get your shit together.

A successful career. Financial security. Healthy relationships. Fit and healthy body. Plans for the future. Delight in the present. Oh, a belly that doesn’t jiggle either.

Yes! I can see the promised land. I just need to practice more discipline and get off my ass and JUST DO IT.

Instead, I do what I don’t want to do and don’t do what I ought to do.

My resolve to hit the gym withers. A simmering depression turns colors to gray. Inertia takes me over more often than not. I binge watch Netflix. I am terrified of how to support myself in this insane economy so I do the productive thing and find a new series to watch.

Good god, man. What the hell is the matter with me?

It’s not as easy as just repeating the actions I did before cancer knocked on my door.

What the fuck do I do? Or not do?

I keep slogging forward. I quit drinking wine a few weeks ago because I know it was simply numbing me and keeping me from embracing the whole emotional spectrum of this cancer experience. And I know I need to “feel it to heal it.”

I started working with a new therapist. I am trying to implement small little baby goals. Instead of an hour workout, a 10-minute walk is good if I can’t summon the power for more. Laughing at funny Youtube videos, like Shittyflute, is good medicine too. (Be prepare to laugh at the horror.)

Most importantly, is my quest for self-love and compassion because, frankly, there is a part of me that is just plain disgusted with my present state. “I just need a kick in the ass and need to quit feeling sorry for myself,” it says.

I’m not poo-pooing self-discipline nor minimizing the importance of accepting my own agency. These things are important.

But the spirit in which I address these current struggles is even more important.

The oncologist told me this it would take a good year to recuperate from all this breast cancer business. The therapist told me I am dealing with complex trauma-stuff beyond breast cancer included.

Why is it so hard for me to accept these reality checks?

Perhaps I should thank breast cancer for illuminating all the self-denial, numbed emotional areas and broken coping mechanisms I have maintained.

My pathway to healing continues.

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my healing journey in a small way, feel free to buy me a coffee.