What Cancer Leaves Behind

Have you seen this video produced by the Mental Health Channel at the University of Texas?

It’s worth a look because in less than 6 minutes it encapsulates many of the feelings cancer survivors face.

Robyn, a PhD student at UT who had endometrial cancer, speaks eloquently about the duality of going about her daily business, while having an entirely different awareness of the fragility of life.

Check it out: http://mentalhealthchannel.tv/episode/what-cancer-leaves-behind

In your experience, what does cancer leave behind?

Unafraid

Unafraid.  It’s what cancer survivors long to feel.

What would your days and nights be like if you felt unafraid?

Unfortunately, fear of recurrence is one of the most common, distressing and least addressed side effects of having cancer.

This was the result of a recent survey I conducted of the cancer survivors in my JoyBoots community.

Think of it.  For all the grueling treatments, invasive procedures, damage to the body, and let’s face it, real physical pain, psychological suffering and emotional fallout are the most distressing. 

Does this surprise you?

I’ve been tracking this fear within myself for the past 10 years and seeing it in my cancer survivor clients.

Here are a few heartfelt expressions of the fear of recurrence:

How do I quiet the circular thinking of “the better I feel, the less I trust my body not to betray me again?” How do I keep perspective?

How can I feel safe in my body and in my life?

How do I get past my panic, especially in middle of night, which prevents sleep, which affects my health?

How do I face the possibility of not being there for my children?

 

So what can help people “live well with uncertainty?”

In my experience, living well with uncertainty means pulling yourself back into this present moment and appreciating the NOW. And it also lies in surrendering the notion that you can control the future.  The future will be here soon enough – what you have now is this moment.  What are you going to do with it?

Living well also means rebuilding your physical and emotional energy. Being motivated to stay in the game.

And I believe there is an emotional cure in company.  Company who listen, understand, and join you when you are in a dark place, so you don’t feel so alone with the universal fear of mortality that cancer brings into sharp focus.  In fact, in company, you may temporarily experience that feeling you long for of being Unafraid.

 

 

 

 

Kelly’s Podcast On Emotional Healing

Emotional suffering and mental health challenges are side effects of the cancer experience that often go unaddressed.

Your life is turned upside down by the shock of the diagnosis, and grueling treatments affect your nervous system, hormones, sleep, range of movement and body function. Relationships are tested and financial worries take center stage. Sometimes there is lingering pain. Always there is some fear of recurrence or spreading.

Your medical team is rightly focused on eliminating or holding the cancer at bay. And many cancer patients and survivors are fortunate to be supported and cared for by loving communities.

Yet survivors sometimes feel a pressure to minimize how deeply they are emotionally impacted, in an attempt to “stay positive” or “spiritual” and to avoid making others uncomfortable by sharing their physical and/or emotional pain.

I’m on a mission to address emotional recovery in the cancer experience so that people can move past the “new normal” with vitality. I was recently delighted to be interviewed by the Therapist Uncensored Podcast about my 6 Principles for Emotional Recovery after Cancer. Check it out:

http://www.therapistuncensored.com/tu63/

We Have a Beautiful Mother

We have a beautiful mother

Her hills

are buffaloes

her buffaloes

hills.

 

We have a beautiful

mother

Her oceans

are wombs

Her wombs

oceans.

 

We have a beautiful

mother

Her teeth

the white stones

at the edge

of the water

the summer

grasses

her plentiful

hair.

 

We have a beautiful

mother

Her green lap

immense

Her brown embrace

eternal

Her blue body

everything

we know.

 

Alice Walker

Compare, Compete, Confuse

“Compare, compete, confuse.” Yogi Bhajan

Have you seen all the posts on social media about resolutions for self -improvement and professional success in the New Year? There are endless programs to improve your life in every way – lose weight! Re-design your living room! Finish your book in 30 days! Be more politically active! Learn how to be a better parent or have the most perfect kid!

While intellectually I know better, I can feel triggered at times into old, critical self talk which focuses on how much more I SHOULD be doing. This comparison does not inspire healthy competition, but leads to distraction and confusion about what to focus on and dropping the ball from what REALLY inspires me.

Comparisons also happen a lot when faced with cancer and it’s aftermath. While going through treatment, you often hear about how others manage their cancer experience: Mary just “breezed right through it,” Sharon “rode her bike to chemo,” and Leslie “treated radiation like nap time.” Well, good to know but VERY different from how challenging many people find the whole experience.

After active treatment, survivors often feel they should be “over it” more quickly than is realistic and loved ones can encourage this view because they want you to go back to “normal” quickly.

Ten years after diagnosis, I want to remember a few things:

  • Go at your own pace. Treat fellow travelers on similar life paths with respect and maybe affection, but don’t let their steps knock you off your stride.
  • Be present with people when they are speaking to you. Especially your family. Nothing is more important.
  • Enjoy every chance to move your body. Don’t take this for granted.
  • Meditate every day, without judgment about how long or how perfectly.
  • The day is not wasted if you’ve found pleasure in it. Go out to dinner, see a movie, read a novel, show up at a party, appreciate the beauty of nature in your neighborhood, take a nap, play Monopoly with your kid. Laugh.

Healthy pleasures boost the immune system and make life worth living!

 

 

 

Having it All

To grasp the world more fully, one must grasp it gently. (Aharonov & Rohrlich)

“There’s so much I still want to accomplish! I want to write a book, and move forward on all my goals,” says Annabelle in my office this week. Her formerly black hair is growing back slowly, a steel gray, wiry texture I can see, now that her headscarf is gone.

She feels weak and fatigued, and has trouble organizing her schedule because of chemobrain from treatment and early chemically induced menopause. She’s fatigued and just beginning to understand the effects of treatment on her body and mind. But today she has no patience for herself: “I feel like I’m just being lazy. I’ve already lost time being sick. No more excuses!”

Last week, her perspective was different: “I want to do more meditation because it centers me and helps me remember to be more loving towards myself and my family. I know it’s ok for me to rest and heal. I’ve been through a lot. I’ve been so grateful for each moment and I just want to be present and open to how life is unfolding.”

Annabelle is facing the dilemma many cancer patients and survivors face and that I deeply relate to as well. Facing the reality of her own mortality in a new way, she understandably wants to make every moment count and accomplish outstanding goals. On the other hand, she wants to breathe in each precious moment and experience it more fully.

How to reconcile this seeming paradox? It’s a challenge to DO and BE at the same time.

One way is to embrace it. Yes, you have clarity about what you wish to accomplish AND you can give yourself the time you need for healing, resting. and being awake to what is happening around you, the miracles of life and love. You can have both, but NOT always simultaneously.

To help myself, I schedule my “being time” meditation practice for the morning and slow my daily routine down, making room for running late, a sick child, forgetting something. I challenge the inner critic who judges me negatively or pressures me to work harder, taking on more, in order to feel worthy. After cancer, I say “no” a lot so that I can say “yes” with real joy.

But I don’t lose sight of my goals and neither should you. Listening to your desire for new experiences and going outside your comfort zone, are crucial for your vitality.

How do you manage this paradox, the desire to get things done vs. allowing yourself the space and grace to observe and delight in the moment?

 

Thank You for this Breath

Thanksgiving 2007. We had a month old baby girl and were over the moon in love with her. But I wasn’t sleeping at all which made me a little psychotic and I had mastistis, a breast infection, which made breastfeeding excruciating. Looking back, I probably also had post partum depression. Or was it intuition about what was coming?

Still, our baby was healthy and happy and we were trying to adjust to new life rhythms.

Following Thanksgiving, I underwent a series of scans that led to a biopsy, that led to being diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer on December 13. My daughter was 2 months old.

———————————————–

This moment. This breath.

————————————————

I went for chemo at MD Anderson throughout 2008, and often asked my friend GG to accompany me. I looked forward to being with her because she was relaxed and neutral and present. She didn’t try to cheer me up. She was just available and gave her time generously. Each time I called her up to see if she could come, the answer was always yes, without checking her schedule.

I found it natural to be grateful for many blessings-health insurance, the support of family and friends, the ability to take time off work, my daughter’s health and the love she received from community. But it was hard to be grateful for the rest-the impact on my body of grueling procedures, life interruptions, the pain, the fear of leaving my daughter, the insomnia, the emotional ups and downs that felt terrible when everyone was trying to be kind.

When GG was there, she helped me stay in the present moment, expressing gratitude for things exactly as they were. Often, that was the opposite of what I was feeling, which was scared and exhausted.

After the nurses set up infusion bags, while waiting to begin the chemo, we set a healing intention.  We prayed the chemo would reach the cancer cells and spare the rest.

And each time, GG made this simple statement: “Thank You for this moment. Thank You for this breath.”

So simple. I couldn’t have come up with those words, but her prayer shifted me into being present with everything just as it was: the boredom of the moment, how slow it all went, the physical discomfort, my connection to a loving friend, and the profound lack of certainty.

Ten years later, I’m still learning to be thankful for each moment and each breath.