Thursday, August 1, 2019
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
5 Years Later...and Still Healing
I want to tell you something different. Something along the lines of I celebrated five years of being cancer-free yesterday! I want to tell you that it was a happy day and I went to lunch with my husband or friends or cooked a special dinner in honor of the occasion. The fact is that none of that happened.
The night before, I spent anticipating what the day would be like. My anxiety grew more and more so I made some plans to combat what my emotions were constructing. I planned to wait in line to get a NCAA National Championship shirt (we're Texas Tech fans -- more on that later) and I did that from 8:30 AM - 10:00. I read Brene Brown's book "The Gifts of Imperfection" -- excellent book -- while I waited. Then I grabbed a quick breakfast and headed home. We just remodeled our kitchen and there's still unpacking to do, so I'd love to say I worked on that. Or maybe cleaned up my daughter's bedroom, or even called up a friend for coffee -- anything to distract me from the fact that it had been five years since my mastectomy. I didn't do any of that though. Instead, I told BHE (Best Husband Ever) that I needed time to myself, so I crawled into bed and stayed there for the next several hours. I didn't read, I didn't write, I didn't even surf Facebook or Instagram to check on what was happening with friends. I simply laid there. I thought about how angry I am at cancer and what it's done to me, what it's still doing to me. I thought about what it's done to friends and those still struggling to beat it. I thought about what I've lost and what I'll never get back, about the pills I still have to take and how it makes my hair thin and has other frustrating side effects.
Later I picked my sweet daughter up from school, not wanting to leave the safety of my bed but having to face the world. Then we got frozen yogurt because Mondays are always treat days. Then we came home and I went back to my bed. I told her it was because I had to rest up to stay awake for the championship game that night. The truth is that handling life was just too much. So she and BHE went to the store to get dinner supplies while I stayed home. I got out of bed when they got back and somewhat participated with the world, mainly waiting for the game to start so I would feel some sense of excitement and joy on what had been a pretty miserable day. And I did. Some sweet friends came over to help us watch the game and we cheered our team to a near victory in a basketball game that went into overtime. I went to bed full of ambivalence over the game and over life.
I woke up this morning hopeful, but feeling much of what I felt yesterday. Thankfully I already had a session with my counselor scheduled for 11:00. Again, instead of doing something productive to pull me out of my funk, I took my daughter to school then crawled back into bed until 10:30. Some of you are probably reading that and thinking that sounds heavenly. I wish it were. It's hell. It's stewing and stifling and stuck in the same negative thought patterns every time I go there. It's the worst of my anxiety and depression and feelings of worthlessness and guilt. So while it's a beautiful gift of a day today, I couldn't seem to stay out of my bed and it pisses me off. I saw my counselor -- a precious blessing in my life -- and we talked through it. I mostly cried through it. She said a lot of wise things and asked some challenging questions. Then I went to Target (where all good things come from) to get the kids' Easter stuff. I thought that would make me feel better. It didn't. So guess what I did? You got it -- came home and crawled back in bed. I told my counselor I wouldn't do that. We came up with a plan of other things I could do instead, people I could confide in, activities in which I could engage. But I didn't. I went back to my anxiety and depression and wallowed. But here I am now, writing it out as I often do when I need to get things out and move on with my life. It's the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes.
So, for those wondering what that 5-year mark means for cancer survivors, I can only speak for myself. It's tough, just like every other cancer anniversary. I wish I could say it's been a celebration of life, a joyous day full of thanksgiving. It hasn't been that way for me and I think that's okay. I'm still grieving and healing and that's okay too. But I'm here and for that I'm thankful.
The night before, I spent anticipating what the day would be like. My anxiety grew more and more so I made some plans to combat what my emotions were constructing. I planned to wait in line to get a NCAA National Championship shirt (we're Texas Tech fans -- more on that later) and I did that from 8:30 AM - 10:00. I read Brene Brown's book "The Gifts of Imperfection" -- excellent book -- while I waited. Then I grabbed a quick breakfast and headed home. We just remodeled our kitchen and there's still unpacking to do, so I'd love to say I worked on that. Or maybe cleaned up my daughter's bedroom, or even called up a friend for coffee -- anything to distract me from the fact that it had been five years since my mastectomy. I didn't do any of that though. Instead, I told BHE (Best Husband Ever) that I needed time to myself, so I crawled into bed and stayed there for the next several hours. I didn't read, I didn't write, I didn't even surf Facebook or Instagram to check on what was happening with friends. I simply laid there. I thought about how angry I am at cancer and what it's done to me, what it's still doing to me. I thought about what it's done to friends and those still struggling to beat it. I thought about what I've lost and what I'll never get back, about the pills I still have to take and how it makes my hair thin and has other frustrating side effects.
Later I picked my sweet daughter up from school, not wanting to leave the safety of my bed but having to face the world. Then we got frozen yogurt because Mondays are always treat days. Then we came home and I went back to my bed. I told her it was because I had to rest up to stay awake for the championship game that night. The truth is that handling life was just too much. So she and BHE went to the store to get dinner supplies while I stayed home. I got out of bed when they got back and somewhat participated with the world, mainly waiting for the game to start so I would feel some sense of excitement and joy on what had been a pretty miserable day. And I did. Some sweet friends came over to help us watch the game and we cheered our team to a near victory in a basketball game that went into overtime. I went to bed full of ambivalence over the game and over life.
I woke up this morning hopeful, but feeling much of what I felt yesterday. Thankfully I already had a session with my counselor scheduled for 11:00. Again, instead of doing something productive to pull me out of my funk, I took my daughter to school then crawled back into bed until 10:30. Some of you are probably reading that and thinking that sounds heavenly. I wish it were. It's hell. It's stewing and stifling and stuck in the same negative thought patterns every time I go there. It's the worst of my anxiety and depression and feelings of worthlessness and guilt. So while it's a beautiful gift of a day today, I couldn't seem to stay out of my bed and it pisses me off. I saw my counselor -- a precious blessing in my life -- and we talked through it. I mostly cried through it. She said a lot of wise things and asked some challenging questions. Then I went to Target (where all good things come from) to get the kids' Easter stuff. I thought that would make me feel better. It didn't. So guess what I did? You got it -- came home and crawled back in bed. I told my counselor I wouldn't do that. We came up with a plan of other things I could do instead, people I could confide in, activities in which I could engage. But I didn't. I went back to my anxiety and depression and wallowed. But here I am now, writing it out as I often do when I need to get things out and move on with my life. It's the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes.
So, for those wondering what that 5-year mark means for cancer survivors, I can only speak for myself. It's tough, just like every other cancer anniversary. I wish I could say it's been a celebration of life, a joyous day full of thanksgiving. It hasn't been that way for me and I think that's okay. I'm still grieving and healing and that's okay too. But I'm here and for that I'm thankful.
Monday, January 21, 2019
It's a New Year and I'm Up for It!
As I type this, I'm trying to ignore the sound of jack hammers outside of our home office door. This is the beginning of our big kitchen renovation. They're removing floor tile today. It kind of sets my anxiety aflame, but I have to keep reminding myself of what we have control over and what we don't. We chose to upend our kitchen for 6-8 weeks, thanks to a massive water leak that is. We get to have a new shiny kitchen after this and that's something we're very thankful for. We're also thankful that the insurance is paying for most of it. Today my anxiety is okay. We'll see what song I'm singing in week three.
Speaking of my mental health, things are pretty good right now. I'm still on three anti-anxiety/depression meds and one thyroid med meant to help with my depression. When I think of where I was at this point last year, I'm so thankful for the things in my life that brought me out of my deep depression and suicidal state. My medication, my counselor, my psychiatrist, my wonderful husband and kids, my friends who check on me, and so much more. We can afford my mental health care and I'll never take that for granted. I'm thankful for my hard-working husband who provides for us and takes my mental health struggles seriously. I'm aware that this isn't the case for everyone and it breaks my heart for those who are hurting.
Last week I got a call from my psychiatrist asking if I could talk with another breast cancer survivor. She's five months out from the end of her treatment and is really struggling emotionally. She thought she should be further along in the healing process by now, as if she should be "over it." Let me say this and hear me loud and clear -- there is never any "getting over it." For cancer patients, we've been through trauma. We can move past it with time, counseling, and support, but it's forever a part of us. Specifically for breast cancer patients, the trauma is so visible. Many of us have to make the choice to save our own lives by having a mastectomy. Losing one's breasts is losing part of one's womanhood. Reconstruction isn't like getting breast augmentation. It's like getting taxidermy. My breast surgeon (shout out!) explained it that way before my surgery and it's so accurate. I don't consider what I have now to be breasts. My breasts are gone. Forever. What I have are numb, sometimes itchy, sometimes sore excuses for placeholders under my clothes. That's why I got them -- so that I could walk around and people wouldn't wonder why my chest was completely flat. I got them so I could emotionally heal better. April 8th, 2019 will be five years since my mastectomy and the beginning of my reconstruction. I don't know how I'll feel on that day. They give us a five-year survival rate, and while I'm not really worried about my cancer coming back, five years only got me to age 41. I still have five more years to go on my cancer med, a hormone-blocking medication that comes with its own side effects. I'm thankful for it though because it's keeping my cancer away as far as we know.
These are my thoughts today. I'm more sensitive now to others who have been through trauma and other scary things. It's not something to just "get over." Life is complicated, joyous, scary, and lots of things mixed up in one. We can't dictate someone else's journey. We can only dictate our own and adjust when it doesn't go as planned. I don't pretend to know how God works. I don't know if He for meant me or anyone else to get cancer. What I do know is that He's using my experience in the lives of others. As I sat and had coffee with my fellow cancer survivor, I thanked God for the way He was using my experience. And I thanked Him for the way He used others to help me as I was going through it.
I know many people have been through difficulties much greater than mine. If my cancer journey is the toughest thing we go through in our lives I will be truly grateful. I think of my friends with sick kids, those who have lost spouses, friends dealing with difficult marriages, or those who have lost children. I would choose my journey any day over theirs. That doesn't mean I haven't been through something though and it's nothing I have to feel guilty about. The same goes for you. So for those of you who are like me, those of you who have been through something and struggle with hurt, depression, anxiety, there is hope. Reach out -- get help. If you can't afford it, talk to your doctor and ask for recommendations. Many counselors work on a sliding scale. And what's more important -- eating out, that cool new toy, that outfit you like, or your mental health? Seek out counseling opportunities at your church. Our church pays for counseling. Maybe yours does as well. Maybe you just need someone to listen. In that case, I am here. I can be reached via this blog or Facebook, or if you're local I'm always up for coffee, lunch, drinks, whatever. Don't settle for misery. You don't deserve that. You deserve hope and joy -- reach out and grab it!
Speaking of my mental health, things are pretty good right now. I'm still on three anti-anxiety/depression meds and one thyroid med meant to help with my depression. When I think of where I was at this point last year, I'm so thankful for the things in my life that brought me out of my deep depression and suicidal state. My medication, my counselor, my psychiatrist, my wonderful husband and kids, my friends who check on me, and so much more. We can afford my mental health care and I'll never take that for granted. I'm thankful for my hard-working husband who provides for us and takes my mental health struggles seriously. I'm aware that this isn't the case for everyone and it breaks my heart for those who are hurting.
Last week I got a call from my psychiatrist asking if I could talk with another breast cancer survivor. She's five months out from the end of her treatment and is really struggling emotionally. She thought she should be further along in the healing process by now, as if she should be "over it." Let me say this and hear me loud and clear -- there is never any "getting over it." For cancer patients, we've been through trauma. We can move past it with time, counseling, and support, but it's forever a part of us. Specifically for breast cancer patients, the trauma is so visible. Many of us have to make the choice to save our own lives by having a mastectomy. Losing one's breasts is losing part of one's womanhood. Reconstruction isn't like getting breast augmentation. It's like getting taxidermy. My breast surgeon (shout out!) explained it that way before my surgery and it's so accurate. I don't consider what I have now to be breasts. My breasts are gone. Forever. What I have are numb, sometimes itchy, sometimes sore excuses for placeholders under my clothes. That's why I got them -- so that I could walk around and people wouldn't wonder why my chest was completely flat. I got them so I could emotionally heal better. April 8th, 2019 will be five years since my mastectomy and the beginning of my reconstruction. I don't know how I'll feel on that day. They give us a five-year survival rate, and while I'm not really worried about my cancer coming back, five years only got me to age 41. I still have five more years to go on my cancer med, a hormone-blocking medication that comes with its own side effects. I'm thankful for it though because it's keeping my cancer away as far as we know.
These are my thoughts today. I'm more sensitive now to others who have been through trauma and other scary things. It's not something to just "get over." Life is complicated, joyous, scary, and lots of things mixed up in one. We can't dictate someone else's journey. We can only dictate our own and adjust when it doesn't go as planned. I don't pretend to know how God works. I don't know if He for meant me or anyone else to get cancer. What I do know is that He's using my experience in the lives of others. As I sat and had coffee with my fellow cancer survivor, I thanked God for the way He was using my experience. And I thanked Him for the way He used others to help me as I was going through it.
I know many people have been through difficulties much greater than mine. If my cancer journey is the toughest thing we go through in our lives I will be truly grateful. I think of my friends with sick kids, those who have lost spouses, friends dealing with difficult marriages, or those who have lost children. I would choose my journey any day over theirs. That doesn't mean I haven't been through something though and it's nothing I have to feel guilty about. The same goes for you. So for those of you who are like me, those of you who have been through something and struggle with hurt, depression, anxiety, there is hope. Reach out -- get help. If you can't afford it, talk to your doctor and ask for recommendations. Many counselors work on a sliding scale. And what's more important -- eating out, that cool new toy, that outfit you like, or your mental health? Seek out counseling opportunities at your church. Our church pays for counseling. Maybe yours does as well. Maybe you just need someone to listen. In that case, I am here. I can be reached via this blog or Facebook, or if you're local I'm always up for coffee, lunch, drinks, whatever. Don't settle for misery. You don't deserve that. You deserve hope and joy -- reach out and grab it!
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