Ever get the funny feeling that something’s wrong?
Like things are a bit “off” but you can’t be sure? I’ve been dealing with that ever since I got off letrozole, an endocrine therapy for breast cancer with a reputation for being difficult to take.
As of this posting, I’ve been off letrozole for 117 days exactly–yes, I’m counting. I’m still shaking off side effects like stupid-crazy joint stiffness, but at least I can tell things have improved.
That’s not what I’m talking about here.
Right now I’m having some “really intense” memory and focus issues. I’ve put “really intense” in quotes, because I talk in superlatives so that my concerns are taken seriously. It’s a bad habit, especially when speaking to an oncologist, because it’s a sure way to end up in an MRI tube. Again.
In the past, my oncologist suggested that my memory problems might have been related to anxiety and not the medications I was on. That’s quite possible, although it’s hard to tease apart “anxiety” and “med side effects”. I mean, simply being told you have cancer causes an immediate spike of the Stress-O-Meter. For someone as anxiety-prone as me, it’s like I’m constantly red-lining.
Now I’m off the endocrine therapy and my memory and distractibility seem to have gotten even worse. What I had before wasn’t like THIS.
It’s kind of like saying, “This hurts. I think I’m being hit on the head with a hammer.” But then you actually get hit by a hammer, and think, “WHOA, now THIS is being hit on the head with a hammer!”
If thoughts are beads on a string, my beads are dropping off at a constant rate, leaving me wondering what I was about to do three seconds ago. And getting distracted by shiny objects. Couple that with having to learn a complex new financial system for work (grrrrr, Larry Ellison), not having helpful documentation to do so and having to go through that while being mainly confined to my bedroom for over a year…yeah, it’s a mess.
Because my breast cancer was HER2+–which has been associated with metastases to the brain–my anxious little self immediately thinks, “Wait, maybe this is cancer’s spread stealing my thoughts???” I think that I will forever be jumping to that as the first possibility.
That’s not completely unreasonable, either. According to “Medical News Today”, memory problems are listed as one of the symptoms of brain metastases, along with headaches, stroke, seizures, confusion, dizziness…okay not really experiencing any of those.
And the Mayo Clinic metastasis website asks: what are the most likely causes of my symptoms? So, I admit, a brain tumor probably isn’t, given all the other more likely possibilities: menopause, work stress, loneliness, lack of purpose…and *cough* listening to Twitch video streams while I’m trying to focus.
So really, these memory issues could be a completely normal effect of menopause, but in the cancer context the possibilities are frightening. It takes a lot of perspective to be able to look at what’s going on and realize that it’s not aberrant or dangerous. I feel like an idiot for jumping to the worst conclusions, but here I am…
Looks like visiting a cardiologist after stopping aromatase inhibitors for breast cancer was a good idea after all.
The letrozole (aromatase inhibitor) that I’d been taking has been associated with cardiovascular effects, and since I was feeling progressively worse from the medication, I wanted to make sure that everything checked out okay.
It seems like the American Heart Association (AHA) agrees with my concerns. An April 26, 2021 statement by the AHA underscored the complicated picture of cancer treatments, in this case hormonal therapies for breast and prostate cancer. As stated in the article by Okwuosa et al. (2021) published in Circulation: Genomic and Precision Medicine, “As patients with hormone-dependent cancers continue to live longer, CVD [cardiovascular disease] has emerged as a leading cause of mortality and morbidity among survivors of these cancers.”
Ironically, breast and prostate cancers are some of the most common cancers in women and men, in addition to having some of the most effective treatments. The number is of breast and prostate cancer survivors is growing. Part of the success of treatment is expressly due to the development of hormonal therapies for long-term (5-10 year) use. At the same time, the increase in CVD problems is a result of this success, because as cancer survivors age they experience greater amounts of age-related cardiovascular events than do non-cancer surivors.
So, what do you do when the treatment that’s increasing your chances of beating cancer may also be increasing your chances of a cardiovascular event? Isn’t that one of the many problems with cancer? If your treatment works well, then that opens the door to having it work “too enthusiastically”, possibly with long-lasting negative effects.
The AHA statement paper cited here stresses the importance of communicating with your oncological team about CVD risk factors and possibly requesting a referral to a cardiologist, having appropriate tests conducted (ECG/EKG, echocardiogram), and–in my opinion the most important thing the survivors themselves can do–modify lifestyle (diet, exercise, smoking cessation, etc.) to maximize your chances of a cardiovascular event-free survivorship.
While it may be frustrating to think of entering into an “out of the frying pan, into the fire” scenario with a potential leapfrog from cancer to CVD, nothing is written in stone. You can make an effort to protect yourself and avoid being a statistic. Focusing on healthy living will benefit you in many ways and is guaranteed to improve your life, no matter what your risks.
Link to the AHA statement: Okwuosa et al. (2021) Impact of Hormonal Therapies for Treatment of Hormone-Dependent Cancers (Breast and Prostate) on the Cardiovascular System: Effects and Modifications: A Scientific Statement From the American Heart Association. Circ Genom Precis Med, DOI: 10.1161/HCG.0000000000000082
When I look back at the past decades, I feel exhaustion sweep over me.
Cancer was not the only negative thing to come up in my life. There have been quite a few horrible things that have taken place, and at times I get overwhelmed by the thought of them.
This is not where, at my age, I thought I would be, and that’s disappointing.
But I realized that part of this disappointment is the lens through which I view things. Granted, I’ve had my share of misfortune, but when my life seems to be sinking into bleakness, it’s time to do something about it.
This calls for a change in perspective.
So I have undertaken a project. I am writing out the story of my life, but with a slightly different bent: when I come across a negative event, I pause and consider whether I can find something in it to be grateful for. I write about how I overcame it, rather than how bad it was, or how unfair and so unlike what others have had to deal with. I place emphasis on the outcome to avoid getting mired in anguish.
A difficult person in my life? I’ve learned that I’m not responsible for their happinesss, only for my own. A disastrous financial situation? I’ve found that what I perceived as a terrifying outcome can be overcome, and there is a light on the other end and a path by which to maneuver through it. A frightening health crisis? I now know I have met head-on the most daunting disease I ever feared that I would have and somehow made it through treatment.
I am still here. Re-framing the bad stuff is work in progress and it’s not always easy to let go of my familiar, well-worn, negative narrative, but, yes, I am still here.
I’ve discovered that my life is a story of perseverence. There have been numerous hardships and it’s true they’ve left deep scars, but I am aware of how they may twist my attitude, which has removed some of their negative punch. While I may look around and wonder why things have gone a certain way, I also see what I’ve learned and how I’ve matured.
If you want to give this a try yourself, there are a few things to keep in mind: This is something for you to undertake about your life, not to be forced into by another person, nor push someone else into.
This is not about looking through rose-colored glasses or feeling that your concerns are not taken seriously, nor is this a squelching of negative emotions instead of dealing with them. It’s a step to the side for a different view. This doesn’t mean that those events were not disastrous or those who perpetrated bad things don’t deserve punishment.
You have a right to be upset. You are heard.
Re-framing your life in this way means that you give evidence to the exquisite being that you are, and to the power that you have within yourself. If you feel as though you’ve been chewed up and spat out, be gentle and start slowly.
When you’re ready, invite healing by releasing the burden of negativity and, pen in hand, allow yourself to reveal your strengths.
My recent post, Just Show Up, about releasing the need to fight through breast cancer treatment, left out an important concept.
My cancer diagnosis was what I deemed the “worst-case scenario” from the viewpoint of everything that came before. The overwhelm was a tidal wave that caught me and spun me around. Disoriented, I struggled to breathe and find my footing, but it was too much and I was poorly equipped to deal with the news.
I went through the motions, stumbling through the appointments that now multiplied in number. There was so much information to wade through, decisions to make, upcoming treatments to fear.
Then a co-worker whose wife had been diagnosed with cancer some years before sat down with me and gently offered a valuable piece of advice.
I didn’t have to handle everything at once. Some the decisions could be made later. Each day would bring answers and more clarity. There was no need to load up on all the information. It didn’t help anyone get through these days, all it did was weigh them down.
The path through this entailed focusing on what needed to be done now, and then working on doing that and only that. Just taking that one easy step forward.
All that stuff in the past and the things to come, you can release them. Don’t carry that extra burden with you. Just focus on what’s happening now. And now.
I mentioned a few posts back that in addition to stopping letrozole (an aromatase inhibitor) which had originally been prescribed to me as long-term endocrine therapy for breast cancer, I saw a cardiologist. I was experiencing what felt like irregular heartbeats. Since arrhythmias have been associated with aromatase inhibitor use, I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going from one problem to another.
The cardiologist I met with ran an EKG, listened to my heart and told me he really didn’t think I had any issues. However, he ordered an echocardiogram and a Holter monitor just to be on the safe side. I did both tests.
A week ago, I met with him to go over my results. He was pleasant as always, asked me how I was feeling–I was feeling great, actually, since I was pretty positive that I’d imagined any heart issues because I’d experienced little since I turned in the Holter monitor for analysis. So, if anything, I was a tad embarrassed for blowing things out of proportion. Geez, I’m such a hypochondriac!
That’s good, he said, equally pleasantly. “Because we found something.” Equally pleasantly.
I had not expected that. What I was expecting was, “everything looks normal.”
However, looks like there were some arrhythmias: supraventricular tachycardia and supraventricular ectopics.
My doc wasn’t concerned. He said that based on other data (72% left ventricular ejection fraction [LVEF]) my heart was healthy and strong.
Ooookay. But I was a little shaky that my concern about extra beats had been confirmed. Because I hate fearing that something’s wrong and finding out that I was right in fearing it! I’d prefer that it be all in my head.
Then we delved further into the echocardiogram. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
On the plus side, lots of things were normal. That’s good.
However, way back in early 2018, while I was receiving infusions of Herceptin, my then-cardiogram showed pericardial effusion (fluid where it shouldn’t be), but in a subsequent echo it had “fixed” itself. Well, that was back now. Also trace mitral and tricuspid regurgitation: my valves are a touch leaky. My cardiologist wasn’t too concerned about it. “Wear and tear,” he said.
But he also noted that I had a marginally “dilated proximal ascending aorta.” Right after which he noted that I was tall, suggesting that there could be error in the extremes. But neither one of us was 100% sure whether that was a change from the previous echo, based on how the report was written. And he questioned some of the values, saying that echocardiograms weren’t perfect or always accurate.
At the same time, he wanted me to come back in a year for another echo. Just so that we can be sure that the dilation hadn’t progressed. “Then we worry,” he said.
I left the office with questions swirling inside my noggin and decided to do some computer research, which I immediately regretted.
First of all, “dilated proximal ascending aorta”, when googled, brings up a gazillion results about aneurysms.
I know I don’t have an aortic aneurysm. But I have to wait a year to see if the dilation progresses. That’s 365 nights of staring at the ceiling. And I have to make sure to remain calm and not harrass myself into elevated blood pressure, because that can put more stress on the blood vessel and dilate it even more.
Oh, and the supraventricular tachycardia and ectopics? Those are improved by exercise (um, yep, been doing that) AND by staying calm.
Try yoga and meditation, the websites suggest.
Okay, yep, been doing that too.
So where am I with all of this now? Obviously, I need to keep doing what I’ve been doing. But this really does underscore a couple of things:
1) Meditation and mindfulness are critical to our well-being. These are habits to establish now (yesterday!) and not stop. Ever. 2) Cancer casts a long shadow. You might be fortunate enough to earn the title of “cancer survivor”, but that doesn’t mean that it’s all giggles and rainbows afterwards. Cancer treatments are tough and while we’re furiously obsessed with doing whatever we can to minimize the chances of cancer returning (because that’s Job One), someone at some point needs to start thinking about what happens once the cancer is gone and we have to clean up after the long-term effects of the treatments.
Could my heart “issues” (I don’t know if they are serious issues yet) have been caused by Herceptin infusions, radiation to the chest and aromatase inhibitors? Yes, they could have. But could the fact that I am highly reactive and have a strong response to stressors played a role in this? Yes, of course.
And does it really matter? No, in all honesty it makes no difference. Whatever happened has passed. My only path through this is a calm heart and solid grounding on the Earth. I’ll know more about my physiological state in a year, which gives me another twelve months of daily meditation and exercise, and an even better appreciation of how my mind generates agony.
The thing about cancer is that the news hits you hard at once.
And it’s not like you get time to get used to it, because the diagnosis is LOADED. All those scary things that you’ve ever associated with the “big C” rush at you and there’s no real way to protect yourself.
It would be terrifying for anyone, but those of us currently in mid-life grew up at a time when cancer treatment was not as refined or targeted as it is now: visions abound of hospital beds, bald heads, bodies wasting away, vomiting, hopelessness. Most cancers were frequently fatal and diagnosis was the beginning of the end.
As we’re trying to process what this all means for us, for our future and for our families, others try to prop us up with cheers of, “Be a badass!” “Stay strong!” “You’ll beat this!” “You’re a fighter!”
So between juggling the cancer news and the “hang tough” messages from those around us, everything gets overwhelming. Our oncologist lays out a treatment plan and suddenly we need to learn a different language. Tumor types, chemo drugs, clinical terms, side effects.
I distinctly remember wanting to hide under my bed and wait for it to go away. There was so much I needed to do and I didn’t know how to get through it all. It seemed like an immense amount of work for one person.
And then it hit me. All I needed to do was show up.
I didn’t need to be the warrior that everyone was pushing me to be. The mere fact that I was going to my appointments on my scheduled day was enough. I wasn’t going to win a prize for being the best “infusee” or for absorbing the most radiation the fastest.
I didn’t have to fight. All I needed to do was endure and allow. To accept what was going on and move through it. And to breathe.
I brought my office work with me to my first infusion. I was going to be there for at least 5 hours so I figured I should use the time “wisely”. I fired up my laptop but soon the Benadryl that I was given to prevent adverse reactions kicked in and brought on drowsiness.
Suffice it to say I might have answered an email here or there, but did little else. The same thing happened during the next infusion, and the one after that. Eventually I realized that the wisest way I could spend my time was by giving myself permission to rest and ride out the treatments.
When infusion day rolled around, I learned to put aside my work duties and family responsibilities, and simply be. It was such an uncomplicated concept, the benefits of which rippled out beyond my treatment. Why did it take cancer to teach me that?
When is a “chemo port” not a chemo port? When it’s a heart rate monitor. Except that my emotional brain can’t tell the difference.
For anyone unfamiliar with cancer chemotherapy, a chemo port, or subcutaneous implantable catheter, is a device implanted under the skin (usually on the chest) that is accessed during an infusion to enable easy mixing of the chemo drugs with blood within a major blood vessel. This avoids a good deal of injury to any smaller blood vessels, were you to get chemo drugs via an IV to your arm. (For more info, see this post.)
As much of a blessing as the chemo port is, having a foreign object pushing up from the chest wall under your skin can give “Alien” (as in the movie) vibes. For me personally, the implanted chemo port was more psychologically taxing than I anticipated, and as soon as all my infusions were done, which took a year, I had it taken out ASAP.
So almost three years after its removal, the chemo port is spooking me again, this time in the form of an extended Holter monitor for continuous heart rate recording, which I’ll have on for almost two weeks. It’s taped to the skin in a fancy patch that you can exercise and shower in, and supposedly you forget that you’re wearing it and go on your daily routine as normal.
But for me, it’s bringing up the spectre of chemo port, and memories of discomfort and pain I felt having that bulge stretching my skin of my chest. I chant my mantra of “it’s ON, not IN” in an effort to distinguish between the port and monitor, but the longer than it stays on, the more anxiety I feel about it.
All those emotions about the lack of control over my own body, feeling so abnormal and outwardly looking “sick” (not to mention fear of death) are rushing back. The Holter monitor peeks up from the neckline of my shirt, hooks my car’s seatbelt and often seems to be in the way. I find myself moving away from other people in fear of having them knock it or hug me too tightly and cause pain, even though the monitor doesn’t deserve the same apprehension that the port did.
I’m removing the Holter patch today and sending it back for analysis, so that’ll be a big relief. But the power of this reaction is another reminder of the depth of fear that the cancer experience placed within me.
So why am I wearing the heart rate monitor anyway? I was having little cardiac “episodes”, particularly over the last year, and this was one of the (many) reasons for discontinuing aromatase inhibitors. Mainly these were sensations of skipped or extra beats or an odd “fluttering”. I’ve already had an EKG and echocardiogram, neither of which apparently showed anything abnormal (I haven’t received a final report of my echocardiogram but had been told that the cardiologist would contact me if he found anything problematic, and it’s been a week and a half, so I’m guessing everything’s okay?).
The Holter monitor was the last step in looking for arrhythmias or similar issues. And wouldn’t you know it? The further I’ve gotten from stopping aromatase inhibitors, the fewer episodes I’ve experienced and haven’t felt anything distinct since I got the monitor. What I’m feeling is very occasional, subtle “sensations”…but these may turn out to be nothing. I’m okay with that. As a matter of fact, I’m not even worried about what the data might show.
IMPORTANT: Please discuss the information below with your oncological and nutritional team prior to making changes to your diet!They will be able to provide you with the proper guidelines for your situation.
One common area of contention within the context of hormone-positive breast cancer is the effect of soy consumption on cancer risk. There has been some back-and-forth on this topic, and “to soy or not to soy?” is a frequently-heard question coming from newly-diagnosed cancer patients.
It was a concern for me. I became vegetarian at age 18 and consumed a soy-heavy diet until my mid-40s, at which point, partly spooked by warnings about soy, I backed off. As recent research shows, I needn’t have.
For a little background, the main concern for breast cancer patients is the presence of phytoestrogens in soy, known as isoflavones, and how they function in the human body. They have a mild estrogenic effect, which is why many women use them in supplement form to ameliorate the uncomfortable effects of menopause. In that sense, they are acting like estrogen, although it’s important to stress that they are not estrogen.
But given this similarity to estrogen, does soy increase the risk of breast cancer and breast cancer recurrence? In short, studies show that if you grew up eating soy and eat it daily, as is the case in many Asian countries where soy products are dietary staples, soy has a significant protective effective against breast cancer. Results of these studies have been inconclusive in Western populations, however this seems to be due to differences in diet: not only do Westerners eat considerably less soy compared to Asians, they also don’t eat it throughout all stages of their lives.
Is there a difference in how these diverse cultures handle isoflavones? It appears that a major isoflavone-derived metabolite, equol, has well-documented antioxidant and estrogen-like actions and seems to be associated with numerous positive outcomes, but only about 30-50% of the human population has the gut microbiota to derive it from the diet. There is a need for more research on how this conversion takes place and under what conditions.
But most importantly, as stated by the American Institute for Cancer Research, “Population studies don’t link soy consumption with an increased risk of any cancer.” While the childhood and adolescent consumption of soy is what seems to offer the most long-term benefits, for those who increased their intake at a later age or don’t eat it regularly, the current view is that even if eating soy doesn’t significantly reduce your risk of cancer, there is no definitive evidence that it will make your risk worse.
For me, that means that I will continue using soy as an important protein source in my diet.
Overdoing anything is not good, so don’t overload on overly processed soy supplements in the hopes of preventing cancer development and/or recurrence — particularly if you’re postmenopausal and not a life-long soy eater. Having said that, there is ample room for minimally-processed soy foods (tofu, edamame, tempeh, miso) in a healthy plant-based diet, and that will definitely benefit you.
No single thing will prevent cancer 100%, so you’d be well-served to consider your lifestyle as a whole. As a matter of fact, Zhang et al. (2017, Cancer) noted that “[w]omen who consumed high levels of dietary isoflavone were more likely to be Asian Americans, young, premenopausal, physically active, more educated, not overweight or obese, never smokers, and drank either no alcohol or <7 drinks per week.” [Emphasis mine.] That means protection came not only from soy; the women were also engaging in other behaviors associated with a lower risk of breast cancer. Bottom line, lifestyle matters!
Finally, this is only a brief summary of what I found. Soy is a topic that I’ll be keeping my eye on and will report back as newer studies are published.
In the meantime, here are three excellent reader-friendly websites for more information:
References for this post (all articles are available online free of charge):
Baglia ML, Zheng W, Li H, Yang G, Gao J, Gao Y-T, Shu X-O (2016) The association of soy food consumption with the risk of subtype of breast cancers defined by hormone receptor and HER2 status. Int J Cancer. 139: 742–748. https://doi.org/10.1002/ijc.30117
Lee SA, Shu XO, Li H, Yang G, Cai H, Wen W, Ji BT, Gao J, Gao YT, Zheng W (2009) Adolescent and adult soy food intake and breast cancer risk: results from the Shanghai Women’s Health Study. Am J Clin Nutr. 89: 1920-1926. https://doi.org/10.3945/ajcn.2008.27361
Mayo B, Vázquez L, Flórez AB (2019) Equol: A bacterial metabolite from the daidzein isoflavone and its presumed beneficial health effects. Nutrients. 11: 2231. https://doi.org/10.3390/nu11092231
Zhang FF, Haslam DE, Terry MB, Knight JA, Andrulis IL, Daly MB, Buys SS, John EM (2017) Dietary isoflavone intake and all‐cause mortality in breast cancer survivors: The Breast Cancer Family Registry. Cancer. 123: 2070-2079. https://doi.org/10.1002/cncr.30615
When I asked my oncologist about soy, he shrugged and said, “Yes, it’s true that soy foods contain plant estrogens…but you’re not a plant.”
If there is a time that I’m going to feel anxiety, there’s a good chance it’ll be during my yearly mammogram. This year it came around the same time that my oncologist gave me permission to stop letrozole (and there was stress preceeding that appointment), but also great fear associated with my perceived cardiac arrhythmias, for which I have several visits with a cardiologist lined up.
To top that off, a family stressor followed on its heels, which I won’t go into but one that portends difficulties in the future. This last anxiety-provoking event used the previous stressors as a springboard and exploded into something even bigger. I was primed for anxiety and it took me for a ride until I found the traction to dig my heels in and slow down.
The worst part is, none of this stuff will simply go away.
Often, when people speak of anxiety-provoking events, they’re described as stressful things like a tense meeting with the boss or college finals or tight work deadlines. Admittedly these are all nerve-wracking, but they are also time-limited.
Then we have something like cancer.
I remember listening to a talk about anxiety where the lecturer tried to give the audience perspective about what was really going on, and he asked: what’s the worst thing that could happen? “You’re not going to die,” he assured us. And it’s true: let’s say that you fail all your final exams, but you’ll survive, even if you have to retake the classes.
Cancer survivors can attest to the fact that we suffer a different flavor of anxiety. There is no deadline on our stresses. They are thick and cling to us, like caramel sauce on the inside of a coffee cup, thinned by the passage of time, but leaving a film on our lives. Our hope is to get past the two-year mark, then five. Ten, if we’re so lucky.
Often, we hear about the success of treatments only to realize that the success is based on the majority of patients lasting until the end of the study, which might have been only five years.
Having someone tell you that you have a 95% chance of surviving five years is, well, underwhelming, especially for those of us who had premenopausal breast cancer. I mean, yeah, I HOPE I can last five years.
So, what to do? If there were ever a time to practice non-attachment, this is it. For some of us (present company included), it is excruciatingly difficulty to release expectations–I want, even NEED, to be assured that everything will be okay and then rest easy with that.
But I promise you, clinging to the desire for things to be different only causes suffering. It also robs you of the joy of what you are experiencing right NOW–a beautiful sunrise, the softness of a pet’s fur, the richness of a cup of coffee, the coziness of a warm blanket. We are so wrapped up in fears of what the future holds that we miss the magic of what is before us.
Now is the only moment that exists, so truly, it’s the only moment that is real and certain.
Everything else is either history or what we concoct in our minds.
So this time of the year, I have to sit back and sense the Earth under my feet, feeling into how it supports me. This is what it feels like to be here now. No matter how many times I remind myself of this, I know I’ll have to do it again when the next stressor hits. That’s okay.
This isn’t the first time I’ve written about anxiety and it certainly won’t be the last. But practicing mindfulness, every time I go through this experience, I reign in my emotions a little earlier and start feeling better a little faster. When I look back at what happened I realize I’m making progress, and that’s what really matters.
This time of the year is stressful for me because it’s the anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. That means it’s time for the scans that determine whether I can continue to consider myself “cancer-free”. Scanxiety, anyone?
This week is going to be a doozie, since I have my diagnostic mammogram on Tuesday followed by a cardiologist appointment on Thursday, the latter of which has become, ironically, the major stressor as I try to determine whether I’m suffering from “cardiac anxiety” or an actual arrhythmia (one of the possible side effects of aromatase inhibitors). To top it off, I get my first COVID immunization Friday, which brings its own stressors since I’m a bit “side effects-shy” these days.
Given all this, it’s a good time to talk about what apps I use the most to help calm my anxious mind. I’ve written about quite of few of them in my “Mindfulness Apps I Love” series, but here are the one I keep coming back to (all have generous free offerings; both Calm and Insight Timer have had major upgrades since I originally posted about them):
Calm This was the first mindfulness app I downloaded and it’s the one I’ve used every.single.day since March 13, 2017. I find the voice behind the app, that of Tamara Leavitt, very soothing. Since I started with it, Calm has added a number of elements featuring voices of celebrities, music, movement, classes, sleep stories, background sounds and other features that I haven’t even used.
What I use most: The curated “Daily Calm” meditations are my do-to first thing in the morning or if I wake up in the middle of the night with troubling thoughts swirling in my head — Tamara’s voice gives me something to focus on and shoos out the scary negative self-talk.
Why I like it: Because all the material is created specifically for the app, I always know what I’m going to get. It’s predictably high quality using a consistent format, and for me, it works. Also, once the meditation is done, the background sound continues and provides a soundtrack for drifting back to sleep or continuing meditation on my own, if that’s what I need. Finally, since this one was my first app and I ended up investing in a lifetime membership, I get access to everything it has to offer. If you’re not ready for such a loyal commitment to this app, you might not have quite as much to choose from.
Insight Timer This app offers a large collection of many meditations, music, classes and whatnot by a huge array of teachers. You need to search around because you don’t always know what you’re going to get, but if it’s out there, it’s in this app. I’ve played around with meditations that I might not otherwise just because they were available to try out. And now new, there are live events that include meditations, concerts, even yoga classes that you can join to help maintain a sense of community–so important at a time when so many in-person venues are closed.
What I use the most: I’ve settled on a handful of teachers with voices and styles that I prefer. Often, I use this app at the end of the day, when I’m trying to clear my head and settle into sleep, but it’s also great for any time when I want some guidance for settling down and am looking for variety.
Why I like it: OMG, the selection! Not only is there just about every type of meditation available (secular, sacred, shamanic and so much more–and now the app allows you to filter out the ones that make you, shall we say, “uncomfortable”), but there is a vast array of languages in which to listen. I speak a specific European language from a small Baltic nation, and yep, Insight Timer has a meditation in it. This is really worth looking into and most of everything is available for free–but donations in support of the app and teachers are very welcome.
Unwind This is an app that I recently reviewed here, and as I’ve gotten more into breathwork and vagus nerve relaxation, it has become invaluable to me. The combination of ambiances that you can select from paired with a gentle guiding voices that cues breath inhales, exhales and holds has made this perfect when I don’t want a guided meditation but I do want something to focus on.
What I use the most: Lately I’ve been opting for the “box breathing” pattern (inhale, hold, exhale, hold). It is perfect for calming my mind without straining my breath. I pair that with the “River Under Bridge” background ambiance that is a nice combo of gentle bird sounds with soothing running water.
Why I like it: Unwind has gotten me out of some anxious moments, specifically too-early wakings brought on by a racing heart. Instead of throwing in the towel and deciding that I’m just going to have to start my day at 4:27am, I’ve been able to lull myself back to sleep; again, the spoken breath cues provide guidance but are unobtrusive enough to allow drowsiness to set it. Additionally, Unwind is ideal for those times of my day that I need to eke out some head space and take a break from work pressure. Even a few minutes is enough to get my breath under control.
MyNoise I posted about this app in late January. It’s the most recent one that I added, but it is amazing! MyNoise consists of sound generators that you can manipulate to your liking, to create unique and changing background sounds for literally just about any mood or need that you can imagine! In addition to the app, there is a website (mynoise.net) that provides similar generators. Both the app and the site offer so much, but when I’m working on my computer, I’ll usually listen through the website since my eyes do better with the large screen.
What I use the most: I tend to prefer nature sounds with running water or else drones and more meditative music. My daughter, who is also a MyNoise afficionado uses the sound of medieval scribes to create an atmosphere conducive to doing college work remotely.
Why I like it: S P A C E. MyNoise creates space by masking unwanted ambient noises (busy street, noisy neighbors, etc.) and thereby provides breathing room and headspace. I have used this for mental breaks throughout the day, or for times when I feeled overwhelmed and need help staying present. There are no discernable loops in the sounds and because each sound generator is made up of different elements that can be manipulated by sliders, you literally can create a totally custom sound environment. It has to be experienced to be believed and it’s well worth experimenting with.
So, these are the four apps that I’ll be working with a lot this week as I make my way through scans, tests and immunizations. Each app has their own little something to contribute to maintaining my peace and I appreciate the portability of having such effective soothers in my hand, on my phone.