Tag: Anxiety

Tell Me a Story: Suppressing Anxious Thoughts

(Title image: Photo by Jonas Jacobsson on Unsplash)

Nine years ago this month when I found out that I had breast cancer, the news hit me hard and felt so raw that I had nowhere to seek emotional shelter. The information was so in-my-face. There was no way to escape it, no way to “un-know” it.

While there were things I needed to deal with immediately, the sense of dread was overwhelming at times and I wished I could push it away. Even after going through surgery, chemo, radiation, there was a constant foreboding that lingered, a trauma that continued to terrify as I learned to deal with the uncertainty of the future. The anxiety was worst in the early morning hours.

At that point, I couldn’t even repress the feelings I was having, they were so strong. Mindfulness taught that I should allow all the feelings to pass through me. I struggled with that but kept at it. After all, I thought, isn’t that sort of suppression cautioned against, with the concern that feelings and thoughts that were pushed away would resurface in some other detrimental way?

That belief has been challenged by research on the experiences of those affected by the November 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris. Tracking survivors using MRI technology and psychological assessments, the researchers discovered that part of recovery from such a traumatic experience included the ability to suppress intrusive thoughts. The memories can still be accessed but do not overwhelm the patient, easing the burden of PTSD. (A National Public Radio story on the event and research is available here.)

My solution to intrusive thoughts is to create a story-based “safe space”.
(Photo by Kourosh Qaffari on Unsplash)

I found this reassuring. Part of the way that I have dealt with stressful situations that might have otherwise overwhelmed me is by creating mental distance between them and myself. While I have found meditation to be ideal, of course, sitting and allowing all the feelings to pass through me at a time that those feelings might still be very intense is not, for me, a winning strategy.

I have had success, however, in creating a story-like safe space for myself to retreat into, as if I’m writing a novel complete with a variety of characters. The theme is pleasant, perhaps romantic, even humorous. The scenes that play out are of my own choosing and if I find myself shifting into something more “realistic” (i.e., stress-inducing) I remember that this is my creation and that the story can be whatever I want it to be.

It doesn’t have to reflect real life. It can be as improbable as I want. This is one place where I have complete autonomy in determining what movie plays out in front of me.

This serves as a needed break from my stressors. Technically, I am not “repressing” anxious thoughts, I am dealing with them in the same way that someone might read a delightful story before bedtime, except that I decide what the story is about. And if I wake in the middle of the night, I can sink back into my self-spun tale, knowing that when I need to deal with all the tough stuff in my life, it’ll be there waiting for me.

But not right now.

Showing Self-Mercy

(Title image: Photo by Melanie Stander on Unsplash)

My oncologist keeps telling me that I’m too hard on myself.

This has been something he’s repeated for the nine years that I’ve known him. He says this when I express my frustration with not being as strong or resilient as I used to be. When I complain that I can’t lift as much weight and get injured more easily.

“Relax,” he tells me. But I have a desperate drive that pushes me, as if I’m fearful of stopping or even just slowing down. As if I’m going to sink if I rest for a while.

It’s not just my workouts in which I feel this. It’s also apparent in my professional life which, I admit, did not head down the path that I was expecting it to, and cancer didn’t help. Now, at a time in my life when I’m supposed to be winding down and enjoying a retirement coming in the not-so-distant future…no, I tell myself there’s still so much more to do to get myself to a point where I can finally rest.

Yes, this would be me. No excuses.
(Photo by Jordan Whitfield on Unsplash)

Well, I needed to get that off my chest. As you can image, this kind of mentality has some downsides.

I was reminded of that when, last week, I was again invited to present during an event in which I’ve participated for the past two years. It’s one that I spend about four months practicing for.

The first time in 2024 I was mildly anxious but everything went very well. I couldn’t wait to do it again in 2025.

But last year was really tough for me. I was grieving the death of my father, dealing with weird migraine auras, working on a professional certification that I felt insufficiently prepared for and trying to juggle some major financial changes in my life. I didn’t have the same amount of time to prepare and, consumed by self-doubt, I allowed anxiety to creep in.

No, wait. That’s a lie.

Anxiety didn’t “creep in”, it hit me like a tidal wave. Preparing for an event that should have been amazingly positive and allowed me to showcase my expertise instead kept me up at night. It made me miserable. I obsessed over preparations and couldn’t wait for it to be over.

My presentation came and went well enough. But the experience left me feeling wounded.

Like I said, 2025 was a difficult year with major changes in my life. It stayed difficult up until the last days of December, when I finally had a chance to decompress and enjoy where I was in the present moment.

But when I recently received the invite to once again participate in this year’s event, I felt a familiar undercurrent of panic and despair. And that elicited shame.

First, I tried not to think about it. But that didn’t work well and my anxiety grew. I really wished that I could find an excuse to skip this year but I couldn’t turn it down—that would be “giving up” which would have left me defeated.

Or would it have?

Cutting myself some slack after a lifetime of beating myself up feels like the way I expect these kittens feel.
(Photo by Chirag Bhardwaj on Unsplash)

I have spent so much of my life doing things “for my own good”. When it comes to exercise, that is a very good thing indeed. But what about when doing something genuinely results in anxiety and dread? I had a long track record of pushing through those situations. Over and over again, I would barrel headlong into them, figuring that the more I did things like this, the more comfortable I would get with them. Although it didn’t always work like that. Sometimes, all it did was allow anxiety around it to build even more, painted with self-criticism for feeling that way.

But what if, instead of beating myself up, I took a breath and showed myself some grace? Just this once?

I poked at the possibility of declining the opportunity to present this year, just to test out how I would feel about it. And it immediately felt like a relief. All that anxiety fell away and I saw all the other things I could spend my time doing that I would otherwise put off because practicing required so much mental energy. I made the decision to listen to what my brain and body were yelling at me.

“For Pete’s sake…!“

This wasn’t a cop-out. This was giving my worn-out self a little love. I need more of that.

Advent 2025: Expectation vs. Reality

(Title image: Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash)

Or, “if at first you don’t succeed…”

I had planned out my Advent to incorporate a return to peace through mindfulness after a particularly difficult year. It wasn’t supposed to be overly involved or unattainable.

As a matter of fact, I figured it would be simple to slide back into staying more present, particularly since we are heading into one of my favorite times of the year. Hourly check-ins, more dedicated meditation time, a concerted effort at staying present all day long and avoiding anxious reactivity—oh, the blissful calm that would flood my life!

Hmmm, this did not go according to plan.
(Photo by Alan Rodriguez on Unsplash)

Instead, none of that happened. I was still running up until bedtime when I’d scramble to meditate. Continuously forgot to set an hourly reminder to return to mindfulness. Found myself being yanked around emotionally. And I didn’t even unpack any of the remaining moving boxes that are sitting around the new apartment.

An entire week of Advent was gone and I felt like I frittered it away. I was expecting to feel a bit more grounded by now, but I’m not even getting a decent night’s sleep.

So, I sat down to take a look at where I ran off the road. And truthfully, I was never even on one.

I stated my intention for Advent in last week’s post…and then aimlessly wandered off into the woods.

This is a good reminder that mindfulness doesn’t happen on its own, no matter how long you’ve been practicing it. By its very definition, it requires attention.

Funny, in order to practice mindfulness, you kinda need to be mindful about it.

This time, I had a brilliant idea: why not actually DO the thing that I planned to do?
(Photo: @FranticShanti)

Enough belly-aching. I brushed myself off, hiked up my pants and did the following: I set a timer. This could have been any sort of timer, but I used the Plum Village smartphone app’s “Bell of Mindfulness” timer, set to ring (well, “bong” actually) once every 20 minutes from 8am to 8am.

It’s a low, soulful tone that rumbles through whatever else I’m doing, while at the same time not sounding intrusive.

When I hear the “bong”, I take a deep breath and notice what that feels like. Quite often, that breath turns into a deep sigh and I realize that my breath before was shallower. So I take a few more deep breaths.

That type of diaphragmatic breathing, into the belly, activates the parasympathetic (“rest and digest”) nervous system, and thereby the relaxation response.

Then I go back to my work until I hear the next “bong” and this process repeats.

By mid-afternoon, I found that I was much more aware of my breath and was breathing deeper during the interval between the bonging. And that was just the first day.

Ahhhh, this was a much better plan than my previous “no-plan” plan. Yes, I was bummed that I hadn’t implemented an actual plan a week ago, but here I am now and it’s working well.

The best part is, you can’t really “fall behind” on being mindful. Unlike where I am with my Advent cheese calendar…

Try a Little Tenderness

(Title image: Photo by Alin Luna on Unsplash)

This is a bit of a departure from the usual posts. But I was thinking about how my emotions get pushed and pulled during the course of the day…

Suffice it to say, we live in contentious times where people are compelled to take sides. That leads to an environment where we think badly of each other which, in turn, adds an underlying level of stress to our daily lives.

Perhaps you feel it like an annoying irritation, maybe a quickening of the heartbeat or an increase in your blood pressure. Heat under the collar. And suddenly you are imagining what a jerk the other person is.

All that based upon a single interaction. This is an unfair snapshot judgment of people and brings with it the kind of stress I don’t need.

So this is what I do. And I love the instant effect that it has on me.

When I find myself getting annoyed with someone—whether it’s a rude customer service representative, someone interviewed on the news with an extreme political view, even a person who cuts me off in traffic—instead of muttering something hateful under my breath, I pause and think.

What might be going on in someone’s life to cause them to act or think this way?

If you had the kind of day they did, you’d be in a bad mood too.
(Photo by Alex Greenberg on Unsplash)

Did the customer service rep receive bad news at home followed by an interaction with an aggressive customer?

Has the person with distinctly different world views had a frightening personal experience that affected them deeply?

Is the driver who cut me off in a hurry to help someone with a medical condition?

You can say that, no, all those people are just malicious, egotistical jerks. But in reality, they are far more than the two-dimensional view that we have of them. Their lives are as full as ours and they share the same struggles and dreams that we do.

I sit with these thoughts. The “empathy” muscle is an important one to exercise.

For some, this is hard work to do. When we feel slighted, it can be difficult to give someone the benefit of the doubt. And when political tensions are high, some people may feel that being emotionally generous towards someone with views they find odious is like “giving in” to them, letting them “win”.

But you are not losing anything by practicing empathy.

Why do I bring this up? Because this helps give us peace. It makes us less reactive and helps us see things more clearly. It provides space for our brains to function in. It relieves anxiety.

In the end, it makes the world a better place. And we all need that.

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Anger is exhausting. Hate bleeds around the edges. Welcome peace back into your life regardless of whether or not the other person deserves it.

Oncology Yoga: It’s Not Just for Relieving Stress

(Title image: Photo by Raghu Nath on Unsplash)

Last week I finished up my 75-hour yoga4cancer (y4c) Oncology Yoga teacher training (wow, that’s a mouthful!).

It was about five months of some pretty hefty lessons that spanned the cancer experience, the science of cancer, the science of yoga, the y4c methodology and lots of practice, introspection and critique. And more!

What drew me to this particular specialized yoga training was that it uses yoga as an exercise modality for true mind-body fitness, not simply to help practitioners deal with the stress and anxiety related to a cancer diagnosis, but to tap into the physical benefits of exercise in helping manage treatment-related side effects and prevent cancer recurrence.

Oncology Yoga offers a safe and effective yoga practice keeping the needs of those touched by cancer paramount.
(Photo by Junseong Lee on Unsplash)

I recently spoke with someone who represented another cancer yoga certification. She felt that cancer patients and survivors were not looking for yoga that emphasizes exercise, they wanted the stress-relieving, nurturing aspects of a yoga practice.

And there is some truth to that. I myself made the most use of the Pranayama (breath work) and Dhyana (meditation) aspects of Patanjali’s Eight Limbs of Yoga, of which Asanas (poses) are only one limb, when I was going through my own cancer experience.

But on top of that, I continued to row and lift weights throughout treatment, exercising as soon as I got over the worst days of my chemo. Same thing throughout radiation treatment. Exercise made me feel strong and “normal”, and gave me a sense of control when everything else in my life seemed out of control. This was something *I* could do for myself. It gave me agency over my life.

There is a growing body of evidence that staying physically active before, during and after cancer treatment is incredibly beneficial for survival. The evidence-based y4c Oncology Yoga methodology offers sequences that are appropriate for cancer patients and survivors, taking into account cancer-related side effects. There is ample propping to support the needs of practitioners, while still allowing them to participate in many asanas that you would find in a yoga class that isn’t cancer-oriented, taking care to avoid those that could be harmful.

The y4c methodology incorporates generous propping to allow cancer survivors to participate fully in class while keeping themselves safe.
(Photo by Samantha Sheppard on Unsplash)

No doubt, the stress-relieving aspect of yoga is immensely critical also, at a time when a cancer patient/survivor may be dealing with existential fears. There are studies being run on the impact of mindfulness and meditation as they relate to cancer and results of this research are very promising on a variety of levels.

Oncology Yoga combines the two, mind and body. Breath connects with movement in this specialized vinyasa class. The sequences help with lymphatic drainage, bone and muscle building, relieving constipation, regaining range of motion and more, all the while slowing the breath, calming the mind, lifting the spirit, bringing in a sense of grounding and self-efficacy.

I am very excited about the y4c training and am working on integrating Oncology Yoga principles into classes that I offer. My intent is to use my franticshanti.com platform to post sequences and meditations in the future. Watch this space!

It’s Not a Crisis, It’s an Opportunity

(Title image: Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)

So I’ve been playing with another mental challenge.

For the past month, it feels like I’ve been dealing with a lot.

So many things weighing upon me: obligations, deadlines, upcoming responsibilities, health woes. At least I think there are many things.

Lately, I’ve been getting overwhelmed by what needs to be done. I manage to trudge through everything but procrasination becomes harder to resist and a good night’s rest is harder to get. I’m more susceptible to distractions, which end up resulting in more stress because now, of course, I’m getting even less done.

Life can look scarier than it actually is. Awareness illuminates reality.
(Photo by Razvan Sassu on Unsplash)

It is a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.

But when I pause and identify the sources of stress, there aren’t that many. The ones that are there expand around their edges, looking bigger than they really are and that creates a crisis in my brain.

If I were a purely mindful creature, I’d be able to notice this immediately and gently put a stop to it. But, alas, I am clumsy human being. Even with all my practice, mindfulness can easily evade me at times when I need it the most.

So for this round of dancing with anxiety, I’m reframing what I’m experiencing as a fortuitous learning opportunity. And it’s a very “safe” one because quite honestly nothing that I’m going through now is life-threatening.

I am not currently dealing with a cancer diagnosis. I am not about to be kicked out onto the street with my life in peril. I am not dodging bombs or searching for missing loved ones.

Instead, I only need to de-escalate what my brain is blowing out of proportion. This is in fact an ideal situation to be in because I can’t get it wrong. The only question is how long this process is going to take. Everything else is time-limited. Sooner or later it will work itself out and I know I’m going to be okay.

Every challenge is another chance to practice mindful awareness.
(Photo by Gantas Vaičiulėnas on Unsplash)

This is a chance for me to practice shortening the time it takes to notice that no true calamity has befallen me. The more I sit with the things that I’m grateful for, the more I reinforce the realization that not everything that I experience is a stressor and there are so many awesome things that perfuse my day.

And once that realization lands, once I see that my feet are planted on the ground and the din of fears in my head fades, everything feels clearer and calmer.

Why didn’t I do this earlier?

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.

But What If Everything Goes Right?

(Title image: Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash)

Friends, I am a worrier. You’d be hard-pressed to find something that I wouldn’t worry about.

I know better. And I’ve actually gotten better.

But even with practicing mindful self-awareness, those foreboding thoughts of “what if everything goes wrong” creep in, particularly at night.

Because 2025 is a year of big changes for me, there have been many opportunities to awaken in the darkness, worrying about how this and that can go totally downhill.

A few days ago I was on the same train ride, hurtling through fears, when it hit me that, in the same way that I can imagine everything crashing and burning and my life being miserable and terrifying, I didn’t have to fear the worst. Things could work out.

Call that the “Schrodinger’s Box” philosophy of life. At the same time that things could be awful, they can simultaneously be fabulous—or somewhere along that spectrum. No matter what you’re anticipating, it won’t be until you finish the exam, give the speech, get the biopsy results or have the conversation that you will really know how things turn out.

Fear and avoidance are not the way to go through life.
(Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash)

So if you don’t know, you might as well think positively, tempered with a healthy dose of realism. Things are rarely black or white. Just as we shouldn’t be “all negative”, we shouldn’t be “all positive” either.

Ok, so right here I need to backtrack and say a word about “positivity” and “negativity”. When we practice mindfulness, we strive to release expectations, to not attach ourselves to an outcome. Yes, I get that.

That is an ideal. Our minds don’t always allow us this.

But if there is a choice between being morose or upbeat, you are still better off being upbeat. Realistic and upbeat.

I’ve heard people justify constantly being negative by saying that at least they will be “prepared for bad news” so that it’s not a shock. I used to think that too, fearing the precipitous drop in spirit when you’re expecting something good and get something bad instead. But I’m no longer convinced that doom-and-gloom saves you from anything.

Consider the “coward dies a thousand deaths” adage. Perpetual pessimism can lead to all sorts of health issues, mental and otherwise. For example, living in constant fear may result in anxiety, depression and high blood pressure,among other things. And with enough time, those can turn into something worse.

Again, the ‘ideal’ is non-attachment. But if you cannot completely disengage from imagining an outcome, your mind and body will be better served by considering that everything will work out in the end. At least you’ll be able to sleep better at night.

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And what is recognized as the optimal way of thinking? There exists the concept of “short-term realism, long-term optimism”. This means that you take care of the tough stuff in the present, facing challenges head on, but keep your chin up and not lose hope for the future.

“It’s Not a Toomah”: My Aura Theory

(Title image: Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash)

I’ve written in my blog that I was experiencing strange visual disturbances, most likely visual migraine auras. Note: I’ve never experienced migraine pain.

This is particularly worrisome for me as a survivor of triple-positive breast cancer, as there is a greater chance of that type of cancer metastasizing to the brain. Presumably, a growing tumor could restrict blood flow to areas of the brain that could result in me seeing strange things.

This was of great concern to my ophthalmologist. However, there was no pain associated with the auras, and pain would have been expected (but not necessarily required) if the auras were caused by a tumor.

There were other confounding variables, too. Since the summer of 2024, shortly before my father’s death, I had noticed that I was doing a lot of involuntary “sighing”. I’d experienced this type of sighing before, but this time it kept going for months, sometimes occurring a number of times an hour.

Naturally I googled it, and Dr. Google pointed out that excessive sighing was potentially associated with undiagnosed anxiety and depression. When I finally started writing out all my stressors, it because obvious to me that I had been far more deeply affected by what was going on in my life than I imagined.

So, after my appointments on Nov 22, I took time to grieve my father’s death, which I hadn’t done up to then. I thought I had accepted his passing and moved on, but clearly I hadn’t. I sought hugs and solace from family members and expressed what I was feeling.

My last aura was on Nov 29th. After that, along with allowing space for grief, I expanded my time in meditation, added up to an hour of breathwork a day and even included a daily cup of ceremonial-grade cacao (for the theobromine).

Mindfulness took a front seat. I paused at various points of the day to simply take deep breaths. I paid attention to what my body was doing and what thoughts were running through my mind. I made a concerted effort to show compassion to myself, more than I had in a long time.

The auras did not come back. As of this writing, it has been 45 days since the last aura. I had been having them once a week, and at their worst, a couple a week and even two on one evening.

I am well aware of the power of the mind. My educational background is in graduate-level psychology and I myself have experienced psychosomatic pain before. But honestly, I never expected to have such a striking response to anxiety/depression/grief.

I have searched for a good visual representation of an aura and it’s hard to find one that actually reflects what I was experiencing. It was something like this:

This is not exactly what it looks like for me, as some of my auras have been “thicker” and more “stained glass-like” in color, looking more zigzagged (as if the entire half-circle is made up of triangular pieces of vividly bright LED-like colors). Also, mine were gone within about 20 minutes.

That’s not an insignificant reaction to something that is going on in my head. My brain created those auras. That is amazing.

I should mention, I never had an MRI so technically a tumor cannot be ruled out. And neither can some other cause that I have not considered. However, the fact that my auras stopped after I put concerted effort into exploring my anxiety, acknowledging depression and recognizing that I was not okay with the pressures I was under suggests that it’s probably not a tumor.

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.