Category: Working Through It

I Thought I Was Doing Better

(Title image: Photo by Merch HÜSEY on Unsplash)

Last week, I met with a friend that I don’t see often. We were talking about what was going on in our lives and he related how he loved where he lived right now, and put a positive spin on everything in his life, even when talking about negative happenings.

He sounded sunny and was handling the tough stuff that came his way.

But then it was my turn to tell him about what I’d been up to. I started describing what I’d been dealing with: my father’s decline and death last year, worries about my mother’s well-being, concerns about the increasing cost-of-living…

My friend smiled at me. The last time he had talked to me, he said, I was stressed about something else. In fact, every time he calls me, there’s some new thing that I’m stressed about.

And of course he’s right. As much as I’ve improved in handling anxiety using all the tools I’ve developed to calm myself down—and, yes, I’ve found success with that—the overarching feeling that I have is that I’m playing whack-a-mole with my worries.

It’s as if I’m trying to regain my footing, but something new comes up and knocks me off balance again.

I admit it. I’m feeling worn out.
(Photo by Anca Gabriela Zosin on Unsplash)

After getting past cancer treatments like chemotherapy and radiation, you’d think that the skies would look brighter and my outlook would be more positive. And for quite some time that was completely true.

But as endocrine therapy wore on and I went through menopause, my spirit suffered. The luster of surviving cancer started wearing off. That’s embarrasing to admit, especially when I have lost friends and family to the disease and know of many others desperately fighting it.

But even being aware of that, my day-to-day seems to have become darker overall. I start the day with energy to get things done but by evening I’m exhausted and sometimes overwhelmed by what’s in front of me.

I know some of this is my own doing. In fact, one of the big, scary changes that I was faced with this year just sorted itself out. It was simpler than I expected (note my previous post). And then my son was admitted to the college he wanted to attend. All these are refreshing successes that I should have spent time basking in. But it didn’t take long for the clouds to gather again.

After hearing my friend’s assessment of me, I am trying to figure out whether what I’m going through is really getting harder? Or have I gradually been losing my ability to pull myself out of a funk? And once the uncertainties are settled, will I bounce back?

I feel disappointed in myself, which is exactly part of the problem. Lack of self-compassion simply compounds the stress. You know the carrot-and-stick analogy? Well, I’ve tossed the carrot and am just beating myself with the stick.

Back to the drawing board.

Cancer Took the Magic Away, Mindfulness Brought It Back

(Title image: Photo by Ethan Hoover on Unsplash)

And, no, I’m not talking about casting spells.

But I remember “life before cancer” and it felt different. There was a feeling that there was so much life left to live, so many plans still to execute.

I felt bulletproof. My own primary care doctor was impressed that I’d made it through so many years without ever having a major surgery (or any surgery, for that matter). I was looking foward to my future. My workouts were still tough and vigorous and I felt like I was going to age well.

Most importantly, life had a certain magic to it. It felt multidimensional and filled with possibilities, and even with the challenges that I’d had to face, I had hope that things would always get better.

Then I got hit by the locomotive that is cancer and everything ground to a halt. My world went gray and all those plans that I had for “the rest of my life” fell away as all my energy was focused on surviving the diagnosis, surviving chemo…and I didn’t see much past that.

For quite a while after diagnosis, I’d felt like I’d been tossed out by the side of the road.
(Photo by Sven Brandsma on Unsplash)

Emotionally, my life felt like a void. I was too afraid to even let hope in because of the fear of having it dashed to pieces.

It was like being out in the wilderness and calling for help but receiving none, not even an echo. Spiritually, it was the loneliest that I’d ever been.

I was no longer on the highway of life. I was sitting in the breakdown lane.

Forgive me if this sounds melodramatic. All my ‘anxiety chickens’ had come home to roost, so to speak. And I wasn’t handling it well.

I dragged myself around treatment like this…although about two weeks before my cancer surgery, I had started mindfulness meditation, encouraged by my radiation oncologist who suggested it as a non-pharmaceutical way of dealing with anxiety.

It was that little ‘peep’ of mindfulness that had I clung to, terrified, in the beginning, not really sure whether or not it was helping. But at least it was something warm at a point when I felt cold and abandoned.

I can honestly say that mindfulness and meditation were what gave me back the strength to persevere through tough times.
(Photo by Robin van Holst on Unsplash)

As time went on and I stubbornly refused to miss a day of meditation, that little break in the clouds became bigger. In this case, my obstinance was a blessing. Somewhere in the last almost-eight years, not even sure exactly when, something changed.

The fear and loneliness and bitterness crumbled away. Noticing how things were right now, how beautiful the world was when I chose to appreciate it, helped pull me out of the funk.

In our darkest moment we find our greatest strengths. I wish it weren’t like that, I wish there wasn’t a need to hit lowest lows in order to get the biggest spring back up. But I can say that if my life even before cancer had been easier, I would not have experienced the richness of existence as I do now.

Not everything is okay. In many ways, things are even harder and more frightening. But I can accept that and not feel bitter. My expectations have softened and I pause more often to ground myself, to notice that at this moment, I am safe.

And for this moment, I am at peace.

Making a List, Checking It Twice

(Title image: Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)

I have been stressed lately, which is a bummer because this year I really wanted to relax and enjoy the holiday season. But once again, it seems like the year has some zingers left for the final months of 2024.

Instead of writing about them in a post, I decided to write them down…and I was surprised by how many stressors had built up.

I made my list carefully, organizing it by time periods: first, I wrote down the things that had been nagging me all year or longer. Stuff like constant increases in rent and cost-of-living. These were exerting continuous pressure on my well-being.

“Dear Santa, please don’t bring me any more stress. I’m good for this year.”
(Photo by Mike Arney on Unsplash)

Second, I wrote down things that seemed to have happened in the second half of the year and had a large impact, like my father’s death and experiencing frequent visual migraine auras.

Third, I got more granular and wrote about the things I was experiencing on a daily basis. Like feeling that my words were misunderstood or having to go through the rigamarole of tracking down a package that hadn’t arrived—these are things that work themselves out in a relatively short period of time but are stressful in the moment.

Why bother listing all this? Because it helps sort things out. I get perspective on exactly what’s going on in my life. Without that, it’s like someone throwing a huge blanket over you—suddenly it’s dark and you feel smothered. And that feeling of overwhelm elicits a lot of anxiety.

And once I had started the lists, I considered how I was reacting to these stressors. For example, since my father’s death I had not given myself the opportunity to grieve, not even during the funeral. There were so many other concerns that it didn’t seem like it was “the right time”.

So over the last two weeks, I gave myself the space to cry. If I hadn’t stopped to consider what was actually going on, I might have tried to soldier on and pushed away how much it hurt. I had been affected by not only his loss, but also by how his gentle nature meant he didn’t push back against forces that led him to forsake his own passions, and knowing that compounded my pain.

Ah, here comes that word again: PERSPECTIVE. You really don’t get the whole view until you step back and quietly observe.
(Photo by Brigitta Schneiter on Unsplash)

But the reactions don’t have to be as heavy as that. I also noticed that I had been doing a lot of sighing this year, something that is associated with stress and anxiety. Even my body was trying to tell me to take a break.

Writing out the lists gave me a chance to acknowledge what I was already feeling, and pushed me to evaluate whether what I was doing to relieve my stress levels was effective enough for what was going on.

It’s important to note that the purpose of writing up these lists is not to wallow in misery! Everyone has stress of some kind and I’m not unique in that, nor am I trying to make this a bigger thing than it is.

The fact is, some stressors happen to me and some I impose upon myself (unrealistic expectations, perhaps?). It is only when I am able to review them that I can determine which is which, and then take appropriate measures to alleviate whatever pressures I can.

The Pink Tsunami is Coming

(Title image: Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash)

It’s that time of the year again.

I won’t lie, I have mixed feelings about the color pink these days, along with October’s “breast cancer awareness” paraphernalia popping up in stores, in promotions and all over social media. Some of us don’t need the reminder that breasts get cancer.

Breast cancer is probably the most popularized cancer there is, and I’m willing to bet that’s in part because there is a giddiness associated with yelling “SAVE THE BOOBIES” and not getting into trouble for it. It is also the most funded cancer (McIntosh et al., 2023, Lancet, for example) but to be fair, also one of the most common.

So you would think that by now I would be very accepting of all the pink ribbons on yogurt and fizzy drinks and whatnot. But amidst the rah-rah, October also brings with it the memories of feeling very alone with my disease. Once the chemo and radiation were done, I found myself wading through a new phase of life that I wasn’t prepared for.

This is a reminder to myself that it is a privilege to be here griping about October being so pink!
(Photo by Angiola Harry on Unsplash)

I thought I was “done”. And so did everyone else. But dealing with continued Herceptin infusions along with an uncertain future of endocrine therapy frustrated me because I felt I still had an excuse to feel crappy, but no one else thought I did.

And even with that frustration, I have a lot to be grateful for.

All the pink stuff and smiling faces have been so important in bringing so much generous funding to breast cancer research, which has resulted in great strides being made. There are other cancers that are painfully underfunded (for instance, pancreatic cancer, which also has high mortality rates), and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel some guilt about that. I cannot gripe about all the pink too much, because I am the beneficiary of all the money that has poured in.

Specifically, my triple-positive breast cancer was actually considered quite aggressive, but research resulted in new pharmaceuticals that have de-fanged that type of breast cancer and resulted in high survival rates. Even my oncologist remarked that he couldn’t remember the last time a HER2-positive patient of his suffered a recurrence, and he’s in his 70s. That says a lot.

So it seems disingenuous of me to lament all the screaming pink at the store. It seems equally disingenuous of me to wonder how much cancer took away from me that I would still have right now. Because one thing it didn’t take away was my life, and not everyone is that fortunate. Remembering that puts everything into perspective.

Staying Present in Discomfort: Being Here When You’d Rather Not

Title image: Photo by Tolga Ulkan on Unsplash

~~~~~~
Thank you everyone for your patience during this time of my father’s passing from cancer and dementia. I have appreciated the quiet visit to my childhood home, supporting my mother and being comforted by close friends and relatives.
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There are times that the present moment is an uncomfortable place to be in.

That’s when things are not going well and you want the current situation to be over so that you can move past it and onto healing. But one could argue that this is exactly the time you need to sink even deeper into the present moment.

And even more important to get more granular and still. To observe what is going on even more closely. To understand the important of this very point in time, how it will never come again in the same way. And even in this discomfort there is something to learn, something to lean into, something to accept.

I felt this strain while my father was still in in-home hospice, declining at a pace that was both quick and slow depending on what you’re focusing on. It evoked an axiety in me: wanting to hold on to him and save him–but knowing that this was an impossibility. The tug of time is unrelenting, taking everything with it like a glacier or a tsunami that continues onward no matter what is in its way.

But this is also an opportunity to remember that the impermanence of life does not take away from the joy and beauty of it. Dropping down into what is happening right now, taking a front seat on top of that glacier/tsunami, and allowing everything to be here is the way to appreciate all of this.

So while I would rather that the things that were happening not be happening, I couldn’t stop them. I sat here trying to understand my feelings and allowing gratitude for my father’s long life to remain in the forefront. There was peace in knowing that he was living his last days at home, in familiar surroundings with my mother there.

I could have made all sorts of stories up about what he was feeling or thinking, but the reality is that I didn’t know. So I didn’t pretend and instead noticed the sounds around me, the feeling of the air on my skin and the knowledge that my father’s imminent passing unscored all the many things about him and my own life that I have to be thankful for.

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It’s easier to ignore reality and think about other things, but that doesn’t help us deal with them.

A Rock in a Bubbling Stream [Visualization]

(Photo by Hendrik Cornelissen on Unsplash)

There’s a lot going on in my family at this time, most importantly the transition of my father to in-home hospice care, signaling that a life chapter will be coming to a close. That’s one of those things that you know is going to happen but usually don’t want to think about.

It’s these kinds of changes that unsettle us the most because they’re significant shake-ups of life as we know it. In the case of my family, this change was not unexpected and yet it is still not easy.

The uncertainties associated with end-of-life issues can be unsettling.
(Photo by Pylyp Sukhenko on Unsplash)

But I can draw on my meditation practice and ability to stay present to accept things are they are now.

It helps to use a visualization in the midst of emotional upheaval. So I think of myself as being a rock in a rushing stream. You know, one of those rocks that sticks out about the water’s surface and might serve as a comfortable sunning place for a river turtle.

The rock sits still even thought there is a rushing tumult all about. The water parts around it and then rejoins on the opposite side, but the rock remains there, unmoving and unbothered.

The rock doesn’t hinder the flow but neither does it get carried away by it. And as it sits, so do I, observing and understanding and accepting everything that is going on around me. Not getting caught up in my head and taken away by thoughts.

Mindfulness meditation provides me with a stable rock from which I observe the tumult of life as it rushes by.
(Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash)

There will come a time to grieve but now I focus on what is happening in the moment and how I can support my parents. There is gentle planning as I get more information about the situation. And always, taking deep breaths, feeling into my hands and feet, staying grounded. From this vantage point, I can clearly see what needs to be done today.

“This is what’s happening now. Tomorrow may be different, but at this point in time, I am here.”

So the coming weeks may bring shorter posts, perhaps a skipped one here or there. There will be much to do and it will all get done in time. Decisions will be made as they come up. Focus remains on each task at hand. Even if responsibilities come fast, I find a stable base in my practice that helps support a strong relationship with my family.

The river rushes relentlessly. But I know it’s there and expect the constant movement. Changes become familiar, fear drops away and I am comfortable where I sit, calm as I watch the waters flow past me and then continue onward.

Entering a Dimension of Calm

(Title image: Photo by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash)

One of the amazing “side effects” of meditation for me has been that the calm I experience while I’m on my meditation cushion has been leaking into the rest of my life.

This did not happen overnight. As a matter of fact, it took a number of years (I am currently on 7+ years of daily meditation). But through the ups and downs of my sessions, there’s been a wonderful build-up of grounding and calm.

Yes, I still get smacked with a powerful wave of anxiety from time to time. But recovery is quicker and I don’t feel like I’m being dragged under, disoriented.

The raw dimension is slippery and loud and agitated.
(Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash)

What I have been feeling lately is that there is a dimensionality to how I experience the world. It’s like this: there is the raw world, which has lots of hard edges and bright lights–overexposed, washed out colors–and loud noises. That’s the world I used to live in exclusively and it felt like a whoosh flying at me and pulling me in, allowing no control over what was hitting me, nor much of a way to steer myself.

But now, I’ve transcended that dimension somewhat. I’ve found a much more grounded dimension, perhaps a more soothing shade–think “golden hour”. The colors are deeper, the pace is slower, the sounds are gentler, the edges are softer. In this dimension, I find my roots quickly, feeling my feet on the floor and connection to the earth, to what is stable and unchanging.

The calm dimension invites deep breaths and beckons us into the present moment.
(Photo by Jasper Boer on Unsplash)

Here, I hear my breath and feel the tingle in my hands. I notice when I’m clenching my jaw, furrowing my brow, hunching my shoulders. I am also aware of when the raw dimension starts pushing to the forefront and am able to prioritize creating a safe space so that I don’t leave myself exposed.

This may sound very woo-woo but I assure you it’s not. It’s very much down-to-earth and sensible. There is no otherworldly magic at work. Just the understanding that my nervous system needs to feel safe and stable, and that I can offer myself a protective shield not by running away, but by settling into where I am.

It is as if there is a comfy blanket that I draw around myself, and from there I sit and watch and process and, if necessary, deflect the things around me. This is the gift that consistent meditation along with mindfulness have given me, and it feels like for the first time I’m experiencing life the way it was meant to be lived. Not as something to dodge and weave around but something to grow with.

Take-a-Break Monday

(Title image: Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash)

For anyone who’s been wondering, it is true that I did not post last Monday.

There was so much going on at home, including cleaning and prepping for out-of-town guests who were coming in for my eldest child’s university graduation that was taking place over the weekend.

I had so much to do that I knew trying to squeeze out a post would pile on even more pressure on top of what I was already feeling.

At the same time, I have a strong sense of responsibility that keeps me on track with all the things that I need to accomplish. This has been a very good thing that helped me establish a lot of healthy habits.

Can you tell when you’ve got pressure building up? And do you know when to slow down?
(Photo by Wim van ‘t Einde on Unsplash)

However, I’ve been mindfully reconsidering some of the rules that I’ve made for myself. Missing last week’s post was an opportunity to gently relax my stringent requirements for consistency, since what I really needed was a break.

It felt good to give myself permission to release at least one responsibility. And as soon as I made the decision to take a break for that one Monday, I realized how much my overworked self deserved that tiny bit of grace.

It also reminded me of going through chemo. Several infusions in, once the terror of unknown side effects had ebbed, I found myself relaxing into my chemo seat, knowing that chemo gave me an excuse to release all my “shoulds”. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted nothing to do with chemo and couldn’t wait for my treatment to finally be done. But there was also that strange relief that at least I could use the infusions as a reason for people to not expect too much of me.

It wasn’t until very recently that someone asked me whether I had been burned-out even before my cancer diagnosis. I realized that I had been under so much stress at work with responsibilities at home too, that all the anxiety associated with that was only relieved by getting cancer.

Pause. Breathe.
(Photo by Flash Dantz on Unsplash)

“Relieved by getting cancer”!!! What a ridiculous statement, and yet so true and telling. Sometimes we barrel forwards carrying so much responsibility (and, yes, guilt) that we don’t stop to question whether there’s a way to do this without driving ourselves into the ground.

And that, my friends, is why I’m forcing myself to stop pausing from time to time to reevaluate whether my expectations for myself are reasonable. No, that doesn’t mean practicing “deleterious self-care” that can be harmful–for the record, eating half a box of donuts in bed while binge-watching an entire season of a Netflix series does not qualify as true “self-care”, no matter what Instagram is trying to get you to believe.

Rather, I’m noticing where I am applying pressure on myself in a way that ultimately may have negative effects. It’s all about finding a healthy balance.

And so, there was no post last Monday. My hope for you is that you also take a break when it’s beneficial for you to do so. Have a great week!

Exactly Where You’re Supposed to Be

(Title image: Photo by David Paschke on Unsplash)

Some time ago, I was thinking how I got to where I am and was seized by a sense of regret and shame. This was not where I thought I’d be by this age.

So many things that I’d worked for education-wise, health-wise, career-wise seemed to have been derailed by decisions I’d made based on life circumstances that I didn’t feel I could control…or by just plain bad luck (cancer, I’m looking at you).

As I pondered this, I became enveloped in it, slipping down a dark hole, trying to squash those negative feelings—the ones that get buried for a while only to pop back up at 3am some night.

But then I thought, “Ok, so how about another way of looking at this?”

What if how I am now was the end goal all along?

What if where you are right now is where you need to be for the rest of your life to work out according to plan?
(Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash)

And that shift in perspective allowed me to look at the things that I felt I hadn’t fully achieved as being “the plan” for creating me as I am now.

And what I am now is made up of the valuable experiences that I was labeling as half-done or poorly-executed or forced upon me—but no, perhaps they were all so necessary for setting up myself in this place with this knowledge. And from here, preparing me to move forward.

A master’s degree I haven’t used for a couple of decades, a job situation that falls below my career aspirations, a body that is limping back from injuries and cancer, a mind that can be my worst enemy. The experience of all of these brings with it wisdom and insight. And strength.

Where I am now is exactly where I need to be for the next chapter of my life. The foundation for future-me has been established.

So, how about you?

What if you spin the timeline around, understanding and appreciating who you are now, however “imperfect” it might seem to you, social media, whomever else serves as the judge of your life. This is now your starting point.

What’s your next step?

How can you take everything that’s come before you and allow it to support the incredible you that you will become?

I Am an Imperfect Yoga Teacher

(Title image: Photo by Cameron Raynes on Unsplash)

A couple of months ago I received an amazing invitation: to teach yoga to cancer survivors at our local Cancer Survivors Day event on June 1st.

What an amazing opportunity! The sole reason that I had gone through yoga teacher training and registered with the Yoga Alliance was to eventually teach cancer survivors. To have this invitation fall into my lap was serendipity at its very finest!

It was also terrifying.

Ever been offered an amazing opportunity and felt like you’re still a little too ‘green’ to handle it?
(Photo by Nagara Oyodo on Unsplash)

My first impulse was to run and hide under the most solid object that I could find. You know, sometimes you have great goals, but you don’t consider what you will do if you actually manage to achieve them. I didn’t feel confident that I was ready for something that had always seemed several years away.

But I still had enought time to prepare for this class. I had taken a specialty 5-hour training on teaching cancer survivors, I had 16 years of maintaining a personal trainer certification with a clinical/academic focus and, importantly, I was a cancer survivor myself. I kinda knew what’s what.

At the same time, I felt a nagging doubt. What if I created a yoga class that people hated? What if someone got injured? What if I couldn’t memorize the sequence, kept stumbling over words or blanked out in the middle of it?

The more I practiced the sequence with friends and family, the more opportunities I had to beat myself up over every time I said “right” instead of “left”. Or said “arm” instead of “hand”. Or anything else that seemed less than perfect. The possibility of looking like a bad teacher and shaming myself opened the door for anxiety to flood my mind.

Nothing quite like thinking you’re not good enough and then proving yourself wrong!
(Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash)

Eventually, I recognized that I was driving myself nuts with unrealistic expectations. I also realized that this is a bad habit that I’ve fallen into on other occasions too. So I took some time to sit quietly and reflect on what was happening.

I am an imperfect yoga teacher. While I try to mirror movements for my students, I mess up once in a while (mirroring can be really hard!). I might not always use the right word to describe a body part. I might forget to mention a cue and then have to stick the instruction in later. I might even forget whether I forgot to say something!

But when the day came to teach to this amazing group of people, my students followed along without a problem. And you know what? After class, they clapped for me. My heart was so full!

I may be an imperfect yoga teacher but maybe that’s okay.