Grateful Warrior?

Lydia confides that she feels sad and depressed most of the day, lacking energy to move forward on her goals for self care and to enjoy her life more.  On top of feeling depressed and fatigued, her inner critic blames her for not “getting over it.”

If only it were that easy.  Who wouldn’t “get over it” if they could?

The reality is that emotional healing takes time and support.  For me, healing came in stages-and I needed to have safe spaces that supported me in expressing what I was really feeling-even years after active treatment.  And 10 years later, there are pieces that I still need to revisit-especially when it has to do with a side effect continuing to need attention (like lymphedema or osteoporosis) or ways I notice my life is different than it might have been.  Time helps tremendously with the acceptance and integration of my cancer experience, but it’s still an ongoing process of observing and expressing my feelings.  The more I express my feelings, especially the “negative” ones, the lighter I feel and the more energy I have.

Many survivors are reluctant to share “negative” feelings, believing (often correctly in my opinion!) that loved ones prefer to see the Grateful Warrior face of your experience, not the lingering effects of a traumatic experience.

Gratitude and grit have no doubt been part of your journey, but they are not the whole story.

Recent research in neurobiology finds that ignoring or repressing emotions or memories does not make them disappear. Instead, the limbic system, the emotional part of the brain, stays activated as though the initial experience is actually happening.

 You might not be talking about it, but you are still feeling unexpressed emotions, in the mind or in the body.

To heal, you must find safe spaces and people to acknowledge and express yourself.

 

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/

Room for All of This

 

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved.

They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again.

It’s just like that.

The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen:

room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”


― Pema Chödrön

Make Room

When my daughter was a toddler, at Montessori school, she learned many important life skills. Lately, I’m reminded of one in particular.

It is the ability to “make room.”

When the children would crowd up trying to see something, start a new activity, or gather around a snack table, one child might be behind the others, trying to get in, but blocked or pushed aside. “Let’s make room for our friend,” the teacher would gently say, and the little group would part to include the new person.

The lesson wasn’t shaming, as early childhood lessons can sometimes be, depending on who is delivering it. This cue was gentle – a reminder that the space was not fixed or rigid. Everyone could fit if there was willingness and flexibility. Nobody had to be left out.

Make room.

This is not a phrase I grew up knowing. I grew up in a competitive, achievement oriented environment that did not value vulnerability.

There were no adults gently saying “make room.” It was more like “You snooze, you lose!” “No pain, no gain,” “Finders keepers,” and, well, you know the rest.

Of course, focusing on a goal inspires action and toughness and hard work.

But the gentleness of making room for others is such a tender practice for me to learn with my daughter. Anytime I say it to a child, they do it with grace and eagerness. It acknowledges the legitimacy and right of everyone to participate. It grants the choice to be generous and inclusive.

Making room is also an important part of healing emotionally and physically from the effects of cancer and cancer treatment.   People struggle tremendously with so-called “negative” emotions – anger, pain, loss, fear, grief, and often are convinced that it they allow a “negative” thought, feeling, or sensation to have space at the table of awareness, it will take over and destroy everything.

We squelch these feelings because they are uncomfortable or painful.  But you simply cannot outrun (or out squelch) yourself and your experiences forever, as much as many of us would like to be able to do!

I’ll admit it. I’m on a mission to encourage people to begin to make room inside themselves for their feelings, instead of attempting to repress, deny or escape them.

Imagine there is room for everything to be present. Don’t feel like you have to push anything away. Imagine that your thoughts and feelings have the right to be here with you, whatever they are, part of your human experience.

Take a few long deep breaths.

 Have the intention of spending a few moments observing and allowing the feeling to be present, just one of the crowd of thoughts and feelings. Experiment with not pushing it away for a few moments.

It’s a simple, subtle, practice, this making room inside yourself.  Simple, but not easy.  Eventually the goal is to befriend the difficult sensation, thought or emotion, so that it’s not an enemy at the gate.

But you don’t have to move so quickly.

You can begin by entertaining the idea of generously making room at the table to include a more vulnerable part of yourself, just as the children make way to include a new friend.

 

 

 

Tears at the Table

In a world that wants you to act relentlessly positive, even in the face of your own or others’ suffering, how can you make space for the authentic experience of your own feelings, sensations, and thoughts?

Can you make room for all of it? Can you give yourself permission to have the experience you are having RIGHT NOW – the thoughts, feelings and sensations that are part of your human experience, without trying to change anything or push it away?

I’m writing this post at the end of my birthday weekend – in which I have felt so blessed and loved and unbelievably lucky. I’m delighted to be STILL HERE, enjoying the moment with my daughter and husband and friends and family and all of you.

But I have to tell you, having a birthday, especially a big one, can be a mixed bag!

My daughter, husband and I traveled for one night to San Antonio to celebrate. There were moments of genuine pleasure on our short trip, but I also felt overwhelmed several times by feelings of irritability, nostalgia, and even grief. I was surprised to be missing my grandparents, who lived in San Antonio and whom I used to visit regularly. I felt their absence sharply, like I haven’t in many years.

Then there was annoyance at mixed up dinner and brunch plans, poignancy in realizing I’ve been with my husband for exactly half my life (we met when I was 25 and now I’m 50), love and joy with my daughter’s delight in the history and beauty of the old hotel where we were staying, irritation at her loud complaining about the food not being exactly what she expected.

I felt gratitude for making it to 50 and shame at feeling having tears over minor annoyances, upsetting my sweet family who were trying really hard to be on their best behavior and make the time nice for me.

The more I tried to push away the sadness and irritability to just be grateful, the more it showed in the form of impatience or tears.

Can you relate?

That’s when I remembered what I tell people in class: Make room for this. Make room for the full experience, the sadness and irritability, the love and the appreciation, the anger and the grief.

Why is it important to make room for the feelings instead of shutting them down or pretending nothing’s wrong? Because shutting feelings down doesn’t make them go away. You end up acting them out even more OR you continue to experience the effects of the suppressed anger and sadness – your immune system and nervous system work overtime, because instead of allowing the feelings to come up for a few uncomfortable (even embarrassing moments) and then moving on out, they take up residence inside you.

I tried to give myself space for the feelings, even though to be honest it didn’t make me look very graceful. Luckily my family can be very forgiving, especially when I assure them it’s not their fault I’m crying at the table on my birthday!

And then the feelings moved through..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deep Quiet

Yesterday I was at a day long meditation, enjoying spaciousness and the stillness.  During one of the breaks, I sat next to a friend, both of us quiet and content.  Finally I turned to her and said, “I have nothing to say and nothing to do.  I NEVER have nothing to say and nothing to do these days!”  It felt so good to sit in that space of deep quiet and peace.

The effect of the meditation is more important than the experience of the meditation itself.  You may feel bored, distracted, blissful, or any other emotion during the meditation.  Regardless of the details of the meditation, your brain and nervous system still benefit. It’s important to remember that the main purpose of meditation is to have access to a calm, stable and neutral mind when you are not in actual meditation.

 

 

 

 

 

My Favorite Thing After Cancer Part 1

I change in the locker room, slip into my flipflops, grab my towel and walk expectantly over to the dressing room door. Opening my way into the lap pool area, I am hit with the smell of chlorine and then a moment of delight. The pool is empty! This is one of my favorite things, especially after cancer.

I remember the moment 9 years ago when I was finally released by my doctor to swim. Submerged in the empty pool, my body released its constriction and stretched, weightless and pushing against the water. It was bliss, and also deeply emotional as I cried under water feeling relief, gratitude, and joy, releasing some of the great sorrow from my recent mastectomy and lymph node removal. To feel pleasure in my body, to move freely and know I had survived thus far, this moment was mine to revel in.

I jumped and curled into a somersault like the thousands I did as a child in Houston, Texas during the summer.

These days, I swim at least once a week at my neighborhood Gold’s Gym. Sometimes the pool is crowded and I have to avoid classes and aggressive men with flippers and paddles who, without awareness, could injure my arm or chest.

My speed is steady, not fast. Swimming (especially backstroke) has been the most effective therapy for my lymphedema. Afterwards, my arm no longer aches, the swelling is barely visible, and my mood is considerably improved.

I wish everyone with lymphedema had access to a pool. The lymphatic massage of the water is healing. You don’t even have to know how to swim – just moving the arms back and forth against the water is enough.

This week I read a comment on a cancer survivor support group from a young woman, a yogi, sharing her delight with people who understood. After months of recovering from a double mastectomy, she was able to do the downward facing dog yoga pose for the first time. She described the bliss of the deep stretch and her joy at being able to finally support her own weight again.

She felt strong, she felt relief, and she felt joy.

 

Releasing Tension

This is the 8th exercise from Kriya for Immune Fitness, an excellent kundalini yoga set for the lymphatic and nervous systems. In this exercise, breathe in and out though circled lips. Inhale as you squeeze the elbows close to the ribcage, exhale punching out to the sides. The thumb is placed inside fists. Add the mental mantra, thinking to yourself Sat (truth) on the inhale, Nam (identity) on the exhale.

Hurricane

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During a hurricane, the warning signs are there: the weather turns dark, the winds pick up, rains become frightening and torrential. You buckle down to survive.

The storm feels endless. Power goes out.

At the mercy of nature, you do what you can to be cautious, and you have the water, flashlight, candles, and snacks you need to get through. You are grateful for your friends and family and neighbors. Sometimes strangers show up to help at a crucial moment.

Maybe you get through relatively unscathed, except for the fear and worry about others.

But sometimes your house is barely standing or unrecognizable. It was far worse than expected.

People bring food, text messages of concern, drive you places, help you tear off the rotten wood and carry your belongings to the street for a while. There’s FEMA – not a great option, but better than nothing.

As time goes on, to others your struggle seems less urgent, and you hear from people less. They assume you are getting along better and of course they have their own lives.

The sky outside is blue and you can hear the birds chirp. Restaurants and stores are back open. The world is going on around you, even though you are still not finished rebuilding your house or your life. You are now on your own.

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This hurricane comparison came from Robyn who sent me a message after reading a piece I wrote on how your emotions must be allowed to emerge in order to heal.

She likened cancer recovery to the aftermath of a natural disaster:  “It’s like a hurricane hit your life and even though you should just be grateful you survived it, dealing with the aftermath of it all takes so much longer than the actual hurricane itself…”

It’s true. Cancer, like other chronic and critical illness, hits your body and your personal life like a hurricane. And like hurricane survivors, it’s important to know it is not unusual to struggle greatly as you pick up the pieces of your life. Others are also experiencing the shock, fear, dread, anger, loss, gratitude, and joyful moments as you.

Though you know it takes time to heal, there’s pressure to move on quickly and be cheerful, even as you are confronted with painful or upsetting side effects: joint or bone pain, pain from surgery, chemobrain, lack of mobility, job loss, relationship problems, fatigue, just to name a few.

Still, it takes time to come to terms with the reality of what you have gone through. You have to get to know your body again, rebuild it, and adapt to changes in how you see the world, your relationships, and priorities.

Sometimes the pressure comes from within. You want so badly for it to be over. You expect yourself to fit right back in to your old life and schedule and priorities when everything about you has shifted and needs space and time and support to heal and re-integrate.

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“I don’t want to have had cancer…” I sometimes hear from clients. The steps to recovery feel so overwhelming.

And yet, given no other option, you do move forward.

What helps manage feelings?

  • Reaching out instead of isolating.  Say what you feel. Let yourself cry and express anger.
  • Finding ways to move your body that feel safe and nurturing, even pleasurable to you: walking, swimming, yoga, dancing-all at your own pace. Check out Team Survivor activities in your community.
  • Attending support groups and getting therapy.
  • Asking your medical questions until you feel you understand.
  • Resting without guilt.
  • Writing about your pain and your feelings and your experience as though they were important. Because they are.
  • Long deep breathing.
  • Spending time with friends and family who are supportive. If they are draining to you, limit your time with them.
  • Being in nature.

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Reality is, things may never be exactly the same.  Be honest with yourself about what you are feeling and find community who allow you to show up just as you are.

 

Photos are from my sister’s neighborhood in Houston following Hurricane Harvey.