Category: Working Through It

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.
~~~~~~

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

Patient vs. Survivor: The Impact of a Label

(Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash)

The first devastating realization I had following my breast cancer diagnosis was that I was now a cancer patient. In my mind I immediately went from “happy-go-lucky, fitter-than-average” to “sick beyond belief”.

Except that nothing physical had changed. But my mindset had. And when I found out that my triple-positive tumor was going to require chemo, I knew that everyone else was going to be aware of my hairless, frail status.

Cancer. Patient. I imagined myself pathetic and scrawny, walking around hunched over in a hospital gown with light shining off my bald scalp. Sounds dramatic, huh?

How do your labels affect you?
(Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash)

Recently, however, I learned that there’s been a change in the language surrounding those individuals who have been diagnosed, are undergoing treatment for or have finished cancer treatment. The word “patient” as it relates to someone’s status has been supplanted by “survivor” much earlier in their cancer experience.

This is curious to me because I went through a mini identity crisis after I was done with chemo and radiation–I thought that only then could I start calling myself a (hopeful) cancer survivor. But I was a bit anxious about doing so, because I didn’t know whether I truly deserved that title. I thought that I needed to have some special designation before I qualified as a survivor.

These days, the survivor label is given when you receive a diagnosis. The idea is that while initially we didn’t know your status, now that we’ve confirmed your tumor, you are going through the experience of surviving the disease. As stated on the Cancer.net site, “When people talk about ‘survivorship,’ they are usually referring to navigating their life experiences and challenges resulting from their cancer diagnosis.” Read more about how ‘survivor’ is used here.

This sounds a lot better to me than using the term “patient”. By referring to myself as a patient when I didn’t have any reason to–meaning no physical symptoms–I was imagining myself sicker than I really was, which increased my anxiety levels. That made my entire experience worse and it didn’t have to. I did that to myself (‘cept that I was only using the common labels of the time).

How are you choosing to define yourself?
(Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash)

Instead of putting my energies into dealing with the side effects of treatment, I went down a dark hole.

Language matters! While there’s no doubt that cancer brings on stress and anxiety, terminology can make a difference in your cancer experience and that can either help or hinder you in the process.

So I urge you to consider the words you use to refer to yourself and pay extra attention to how that feels to you. You could be making yourself miserable without even realizing that you have some control over this.

What If We Re-Interpreted Anxiety?

Title image: Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

You may be familiar with the old story about the award-winning singer Carly Simon’s stage fright which prevented her from performing in front of an audience for 14 years.

Performance coach Tony Robbins famously compared her anxious reactions to those of superstar Bruce Springsteen (yes, I realize I’m dating myself) who would describe his physiological responses to going on stage in the same way that Carly did, but he associated them with excitement and not fear.

Anxious responses weigh heavily on us…but what if we could reassign their meaning?
(Photo by Kyle Glenn on Unsplash)

At least that’s how the story goes. And although I think some of this is an oversimplification of Carly’s experience, there is a lot of wisdom to breaking down both performers’ reactions to the point where we recognize that what we feel in our bodies can be interpreted in very different ways based on what’s going on in our heads.

I grapple with this issue myself when I am offered unexpected opportunities that can propel me forward in career and life…but which also cause me agony in terms of my fear of change.

What to do?

What has worked for me is to identify the sensations that I’m feeling. Naming them makes them less overwhelming and it’s a big plus if I can describe what my head feels like, what my chest feels like, what my belly feels like. I try to understand each sensation’s role in creating the overall experience.

Then I try to image that the emotion these individual sensations lead to is one of positivity and excitement. It’s the anticipatory “butterflies in the stomach” from doing something that seems amazing rather than an upset stomach arising from wanting to flee.

And I sit with all those things, bringing in reasoning too: thinking about the positive consequences while allowing the feelings and sensations to be there. Understanding that they are simply sensations and not dangerous on their own–they are physiological responses that evolved to help us out when we needed an extra boost of energy (think “fight or flight”).

Thinking about all the good stuff that opens up to us when we leave fear behind…
(Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash)

I call this reasoning “mental calisthenics”. It takes some massaging and can even get a little metaphysical, but at some point I usually manage to get a grip of that good feeling as if I were gripping the edge of a wall and then pulling myself around to “turn a corner”.

Trying not to overthink it. Just allowing myself to feel into the sensation while giving it a positive spin. And then imagining myself “doing the thing” that I fear…and being good at it.

When particularly anxious, I may even exert myself physically to allow my responses to exercise to meet and match the fast heart rate and breathing that I’m already experiencing.

And that’s about it.

As with meditation, this is a practice and I have to keep reframing the situation in this way to remind myself that change can be unsettling but “unsettling” isn’t inherently negative. It may take a succession of days or weeks to come to grips with the new situation and that’s okay. Patience is the key that leads to progress, and every day that I reframe my sensations is another day that I improve my mental situation.

Hope this helps you too!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Important: this is not about “toxic positivity”. There are some situations that are truly bad and understandably elicit an anxious response. Rather, this is realizing that our physiological reactions–the ones that evolved to protect us–may be holding us back because we associate them with fear rather than seeing them as the excitement of possibility arising from change.

Year 7 Mammogram in the Books

It’s enough to make me get a little cocky.

A few days ago I had my 7th yearly mammogram since my cancer diagnosis. Let me stress first, I am very aware of how fortunate I am. My appointment was early in the morning, my husband came with me (like he’s been doing, since he didn’t come during my diagnostic mammogram seven years ago) and I got a clean bill of health from the radiologist quite quickly.

I didn’t even feel those few minutes of hovering as I waited for the results. The technician had allowed my hubby into the mammogram room to wait with me, and he and I casually chatted so I didn’t notice the time pass.

Wow, things have changed.

‘Scuse me while I sit back and reflect on how fortunate I am for getting this far.
(Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash)

Every year, this feels different, cancer feels further away and I feel less “impending sense of doom” that I had in the first several years.

That’s why something like Kate Middleton’s announcement that she had started chemotherapy for cancer shocked me back to reality.

No matter how good I currently feel about my own situation, there are many reminders that cancer is still a terrible disease that doesn’t care who you are or what you have going on. And it’s still grabbing people and throwing them into treatment.

So much for my cocky attitude.

At times like these, I take a moment to reflect on gratitude for how far I’ve come and, as suggested by my oncologist, how much more life I have in front of me. I don’t think I would have ever felt this appreciation as deeply if I hadn’t gone through the soul-tearing experience that cancer is. Which is not to say that I’m glad I went through it, because I’m not.

Still reminders like Kate’s announcement help counter the selfish little feelings that I sometimes get when I see the free things available to cancer patients now and pout that those weren’t there for me. Yes, those are “human” feelings, but you know what, I can do without them.

Instead, it’s so much more fulfilling to bask in the golden hour sun, taking deep nourishing breaths, and shoo away the everyday concerns that disturb my sleep. At least I have the luxury of being able to busy myself with them, the bothersome little things, and know that I’m still around to have them be a bother.