I felt guilty for doing what was natural to me all too often; sharing. I heard it often enough that it became part of my internal dialogue. I started scolding myself for sharing, questioning everything I said to my friends, and at times even felt shame for sharing. At some point over the years, I decided to give myself grace and settled into the type of comfort only people who genuinely know and love themselves can understand. After my diagnosis, I began noticing how people reacted to my honesty. It is no surprise that people are uncomfortable with talking about ‘the big C’. I am acutely aware of this, as I used to be one of those people. I also recognized that people just do not like the feeling of experiencing someone else’s negative feelings. It’s never pleasant and many people default to fixers. Still, I had this driving need to honor myself, to speak my truth, and, maybe most importantly in this case, to raise awareness of an illness I never even knew existed until I was sitting in front of a doctor telling me I had it.
It was three years ago, right this very moment, I sat on the side of my bed, covered in bruises, blood vessels bursting, hemorrhaging, on the phone with TeleHealth to ask them if they thought I should go to work or not. I intended on going. I had already missed a full week in the office for the muscle I had locked in my hip days before. I didn’t want to miss anymore time at work.
It was easy to pass it off as not a big deal. Like I was being a big baby. I should just suck it up because duty calls.
I allowed the emotions to visit me because it’s healthy to remember from where and how far you’ve come. Not only to pat myself on the back for my progress but also as continued motivation.
I only stayed there for a very short while; a few minutes at best. It’s not healthy to stay there any longer. It’s in the past and serves no great purpose. Instead, I began thinking about what it took to break the anxiety. Not only learning the lessons of how to be healthier mentally but also to begin putting those lessons into practice.
One of the things I promised myself was I would never lead my life with fear again.
I recently had the honour of sitting down for a virtual chat with Soar Above Cancer; a podcast dedicated to helping cancer survivors. Join us for this discussion where we explore what it was like being a career-focused busy mom whose world came crashing down in an instant, the gift of clarity and purpose as a result, how http://www.SoYouVeGotCancer.ca came to be, parenting with cancer and more!
I just wanted to ask them a few questions to try to prove a point. I was totally unprepared for the responses I received, and especially the answers I didn’t receive. In my ignorance, I believed that people would be as eager to share their experience as I am. It didn’t occur to me right away that this would be a complex investigation that may be triggering and painful to people for a number of reasons…but it’s not my story to tell. I typed the words, but it’s their story and you need to hear it.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my oncologist finished with, ‘the prognosis for survival is 90%…as long as you make it through the next 10 days’. What I had just learned was inconceivable no matter how hard I tried to process it. The only thing I could do to prevent myself from going off the deep end was take things one step at a time. Even if that meant one minute to the next. Based on the, ‘as long as you make it though the next 10 days’ part, it was very clear what my first goal would be; live through the next 10 days.