The glorious part of meditation is the opportunity to still my swirling thoughts and focus on breathing. At those times when my mind is still and the brain noise settles, my creative voice speaks most clearly.
This would be wonderful if not for the fact that, whether due to chemotherapy or my daily tamoxifen, my memory has been affected, rendering fleeting thoughts truly ephemeral. I can have a brilliant inspiration…and then *poof* it disappears. There is no guarantee that it will circle back around, and if it does, it may take a long while.
I try not to focus on these thoughts while meditating, but unlike other people who may easily remember their ideas once the session is over, I will not. This is problematic, as there are things that I must recall (like relaying important information or completing a task that I’d forgotten).
This can be distressing. In an unconscious effort to not forget, I find myself gently rolling the thought around in the back of my head during the session. I become like a spider, with the thought being a fly that I’ve caught. As I sit, I spin silk around my prize, gently holding it with spindly legs, trying to keep the thought away and yet not forget about it. Breathing is my focus, but that little fly is in my periphery and I keep glancing at it.
Obviously, this still interferes with my meditation. I don’t want to let my morsel go, and yet keeping it in sight is disruptive. I hold on too tightly.
So I have decided that given my current situation, I will make the best of it. If a critically important thought comes up, I will honor it and stop the meditation briefly…and write it down. This way it is secure and I can release the stress of possibly forgetting what it is and go back to meditating fully. In the event that my “great ideas” keep coming, perhaps that’s an indication that completely releasing focus on my thoughts is not the best idea at that time. And I honor that, too. This way, my meditation sessions remain about being in the present rather than losing parts of my future.
I’ve accepted that flexibility is necessary to respect both my individual needs and my meditation practice.
In my last post, I sang the praises of the Calm phone app. However, I admitted that a number of the features are only available to users who subscribe. This was an investment I chose to make because I was dealing with a cancer diagnosis and needed quality meditation support to help with my anxiety.
I also didn’t know about Insight Timer at the time.
For those who are looking for more free options, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better mindfulness phone app than Insight Timer, which I have grown to value highly and use daily. While the app does have a subscription option, I’ve been thoroughly impressed with what it offers to unpaid users.
These are the features that I adore:
1) 15,000+ Meditations! That’s gotta be some sort of record. And there are new meditations being added all the time, which means that you could do a different meditation every day. I constantly keep finding new favorite meditations…
2) Variety, variety, variety! The number of options is mind-boggling. Choose from different teachers, lengths, recording types (meditation, music, lecture), and of course, a gazillion categories that encompass any imaginable meditation benefit, origin and practice, not to mention an increasing number of languages — I speak a rather esoteric language from a small country and was still able to find a couple of meditations in the lingo. Truly, it’s worth searching through the app to see what a broad selection is available. If you’re interested in meditating to it or about it or because of it, chances are Insight Timer has it.
3) The Timer: This is a fully customizable meditation timer that includes a variety of background sounds and meditation bells to choose from, with the ability to set the session length and bell intervals. It’s ideal for those times when you want to meditate without voice guidance. I particularly appreciate that once your session ends, the background sound continues to play in case you want to extend your time.
4) And most importantly, most of the features are FREE! Quite frankly, meditation really should be accessible by all. It doesn’t seem right to limit people’s access to something like this based on their ability to pay for it. Insight Timer does have a “supporter” option, but as the developers explain, the fees support the umpteen teachers and composers who provide content, in addition to keeping the site free for most of us. Read more about Insight Timer‘s philosophy here.
For those who decide to subscribe and support the app, there are a number of benefits available, such as a selection of 10- and 30-day courses, a curated Daily Insight meditation every day, high-quality audio, offline listening and the like.
The only downside to such an overwhelming amount of meditations to choose from is that it can become, well, overwhelming. Additionally, you don’t always know what you’re getting due to the variety of teachers posting material, so you might need to do a little searching around. It’s almost guaranteed, however, that you will find something to suit your needs.
Following my cancer diagnosis, my General Practitioner wrote me a prescription for Xanax because anxiety resulted in a steep drop in my weight (not a great way to prepare for chemo!). I’m not a pill popper and didn’t like the idea of treating my runaway anxiety with drugs; nonetheless, I relented because my situation seemed out of control. When my radiation oncologist suggested that I try meditation for long term stress relief, I jumped at the idea, but wasn’t sure where to start.
The Calm phone app was enthusiastically recommended by a co-worker, so I tried it. It remains the only phone app to which I’ve ever gotten a lifetime subscription. I used the free version for several weeks but got so hooked I decided to spring for it — since my first meditation with Calm almost exactly two years ago, I have not missed a single day. I also shamelessly plug it to anyone who’ll listen (*ahem*) like I’m doing here.
Features that are worth the price of admission~
Tamara Levitt’s voice: Perfection! Tamara is officially the Head of Content for the Calm app and her voice is so soothing it could cool sunburns. I’ve tried a lot of guided meditations hosted by a variety of speakers and have heard few voices that can compare to hers. Try one of her meditations and you’ll immediately know what I mean.
Breathe bubble: This is a circle that expands and contracts, enabling you to follow along and breathe as it does so. It has “inhale” and “exhale” tones so you can close your eyes if you wish, and you can adjust the pace and pattern (with or without pauses) of breath, albeit minimally. I wish there were a way to personalize it more fully, but I make do with the available options. I used the bubble feature at times when I was too anxious to effectively listen to a guided meditation and I credit it with getting me through some very tough times.
Scenes: I adore this feature! You can select from (at last count) 35 dynamic background visuals with nature sounds or airy musical motifs to play alone or along with the meditations. All these scenes are available in the free version and suit a broad spectrum of moods. I open the web version of the app on my work computer and play this feature in the background all day long. It’s magical!
As an extra bonus, you can set up the background sounds to continue playing after the meditation is over, so that if you fall asleep during your practice, you’re not jarred awake by sudden silence.
And of course, Meditations: Take your pick! There are a vast variety of meditations to choose from, most guided but some with only bells, and there are a number of lengths (in minutes) available. Since I subscribe to the app, I enjoy the Daily Calm, which has a different topic everyday, always led by Tamara, so you can expect a consistent level of quality from them (kind of like a cup o’ java from a favorite coffee chain, but without the caffeine).
Beginners should try the free “7 Days of Calm” learn-to-meditate series that offers a week’s worth of daily 10-minute sessions to ease you into a mindfulness meditation practice.
Be aware: the free version does offer some meditations, but the majority are available only to subscribers, and you’ll soon find yourself craving for more. At that point, you’ll have to decide whether it’s in your budget to commit to the paid version.
There are other features that I use less often but are worth mentioning. A friend of mine swears by the Sleep Stories, which are high quality tales designed to help you nod off, and a number of them are voiced by celebrities like Bob Ross (yes, the ‘happy clouds’ painter — what could be better?), Matthew McConaughey, Stephen Fry and even Peter Jefferson, who used to do the UK shipping forecast which so many in that part of the world found so soothing. Most, although not all, require the paid version of the app.
There are also Masterclass courses offered that I’ve found useful enough to make my family listen to them during long car trips. Topics are broad-ranging and presented by experts in their fields and new courses are added from time to time. Some courses are free, but most require the subscription to progress further than the first class session.
The Music feature offers a generous variety of specially curated musical pieces that are perfect for creating space in your day, like a life vest in stormy seas. I haven’t even come close to making full use of this feature! Many of these are free and worth exploring.
Calm Bodies is a new feature which brings mindful movement into your repertoire of calming tools. I prefer to do yoga on my own, so I haven’t made use of this feature, which unfortunately is limited to subscribers.
There are other perks for subscribers (even a special relaxation room available at select airports!) not available to those using the free version. For me, investing in a well-curated library of meditation and mindfulness options was worth the cost.
Want to stick with the free version? There are still enough great elements available to merit downloading and playing around with the app.
If you are interested in incorporating mindfulness and meditation into your life, the Calm phone app is a great place to begin.
The original “me” is the Frantic part. This was the side that fed on anxiety and didn’t learn to rein in my runaway emotions. While Frantic didn’t interfere with academic success as I was growing up, it did stifle my future prospects as I let fear drive career decisions.
Frantic is the “me” that struggles with where I am and how I got here. It’s the competitive “me”, the perfectionist “me”, the self-critical “me”. It’s the one that’s never satisfied and always trying to improve. It’s frightened and frustrated. And it’s still angry about getting cancer.
Frantic hobbled me during the times I should have run free. It followed me home from work, woke me up in the night, poked at me on the weekends. And as long a shadow as it cast on me, I was oblivious to its effects.
But there is another side. The evolving “me” is the Shanti part. It holds the world in a single breath…and then easily lets it go. It stays present and grounded. There is a sense of calm about it, and ample space to hold emotions and observe them without being overtaken by them.
When I make a mistake, it asks gently, “Might it be okay that you did what you did based on the information you had?”
It reminds me to be compassionate, that everyone is worthy of love, including me. When things feel bleak, it holds me until the darkness passes.
When these two “me”s appear, Frantic has often been first, rushing in breathless and disheveled. Shanti arrives after and gently takes over. But on those occasions when Shanti is first, Frantic stays away and things feel a little more peaceful.
Lately, Shanti has been present more often. I’ve been able to scoot Frantic into a corner where it passes time aimlessly twisting itself in knots, allowing Shanti to spread out inside my head.
Frantic is still welcome, as long as it behaves, which isn’t often. It does keep me moving forward, never resting on laurels. But Shanti tempers its blustering when it threatens to get out of control.
Nervous energy, even anxiety, has been a driving force for most of my life. It kept me productive and lean. But as much as it propelled me forward, ultimately it held me back. It wasn’t until my cancer diagnosis that I realized how detrimental it had been. I was spent. It was time to stop.
Peace arrived with my meditation practice. Cancer forced me to slow down and be mindful of the present, to sit with uncertainty. It is a beautiful change that has brought a new dimension into my life. I only wish I’d discovered it sooner, or that it were stronger, but that will come with time.
I have not completely shaken that Frantic side of me, but Shanti has brought emotional space and a sense of gentle control. Getting that balance to shift has taken work. It is, however, the most fruitful work imaginable.
Today is my 3-D mammogram, the one that will either confirm that I’m in breast cancer remission or that I’m going to have another rotten year (or more). Two years ago, around this time, I was completely racked with anxiety in preparation for the diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound that would detect my cancer.
I feel placid. Granted, I do self-exams on an almost-weekly basis (it’s a survivor thing) and was checked out by my oncologist early last month, so I know there’s nothing palpable there, although the 3-D mammogram could pick something smaller up. But I’ve also matured in my ability to let go of thoughts that drag my mind away to wild extremes, and instead accept what is happening in the moment.
I admit that I’m holding off on travel and hair expenses until after my mammogram, because if my cancer comes back, the money spent on them would be better put towards treatment. Neither a cross-country flight nor an edgy new haircut would be in the cards for me.
Another reason for waiting on making plans? It’s because the agony associated with desperately clinging to the desire to be cancer-free and then having those hopes dashed is excruciating. So for the moment, hanging around in limbo with less emotion invested in an outcome provides more comfort.
I started meditating in an effort to free myself of expectations. Today I am able to make space within myself to hold the possibility of both remission and recurrence, and then to think about neither.
So I sit in a comfy robe as I wait for the radiologist’s assessment, feeling the warmth of the cup of tea in my hand. I am here now, focused on the present instead of potential outcomes. And this is the most peaceful place to be.
Shortly after I wrote the above, the radiologist came in to confirm the good news. Another year, another clean bill of health.
Last year when I got the “all-clear” I was still finishing up treatments. And the news felt like a huge release.
This year, I felt much calmer. Not gonna lie — somewhere inside, try as I might to release all expectations, I still expected to be okay. But I was able to not focus on the outcome of the mammogram and instead go with the flow of the day. This is a first for me, so my ability to maintain that level of calm may be more significant than being cancer-free.
Oh, who am I kidding? Being cancer-free kicks ass!
I am just coming off a bout of particularly intense anxiety, so this is a good time to write an addendum to my last post. This episode of anxiety was striking in its intensity, hit me much harder than I expected and took a lot more out of me. The trigger was something that happened to someone I love, so I had no control over it but felt all the emotional pain.
It’s now been almost a week. Intellectually I’m over it but its physical effects linger and threaten to pull me back in. This is a change from the past because I used to be able to shake these feelings more easily. Now anxiety casts a long shadow that remains after the worst has passed. I get flashes of the stressful event and I re-experience that despair.
As it did with my cancer diagnosis, my weight plummeted over the past week. The reason: my reaction to anxiety is in the gut and intestines. A cold, tight, miserable feeling — emotional pain made physical. As days go by and things seem to fall back into place, meditation grounds me and staying mindful keeps me focused on the “now” and not ruminating on what has happened. But while I can calm myself, the physical effects of the nausea hold on.
That nausea, then, serves as a reminder of the event and re-triggers the anxiety. In times of distress I fear eating because the nausea is even worse with food in my stomach. But not eating weakens me and increases the sense of agony. This transitions into a depression of sorts. Quite simply, at this point I can’t win.
What causes even more anxiety is the link between stress and inflammation, and thereby inflammation and cancer. While I’ve been assured that it’s not the case, there’s a part of me that still implicates stress in the proliferation of my cancer.
As my weight drops I am reminded of that same fear I felt after my diagnosis, that the drop in weight would worsen my outcome because I still had to go through chemo and its effects. So all that fear is concentrated and deep in meaning. One event triggers multiple memories.
This seems like an impossible situation. Anxiety brings worries of cancer, which cause more anxiety. I’m afraid of being afraid. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?
The cycle runs its course as time passes. The intensity fades. Slowly I regain my emotional footing, but I’m still attached to the expectations I had before the event that triggered this anxiety. Those expectations will eventually transition into a new reality, but until I am truly able to practice non-attachment, I am destined to repeat this.
One of the reasons this blog is currently anonymous is that there are topics I want to cover without the fear of being judged. As many strides as have been made in dealing with mental health issues, there still remains a stigma associated with things going on in your headspace.
If there’s one thing that cancer did, for better or for worse, is force me to face the fact that I have a problem with anxiety. I’ve often wondered how different my cancer experience would have been, had I been able to go through all of this without the uncontrollable fear. I expect that I would have been less angry, less nauseated, less desperate. I’m sure that other people experience anxiety with their diagnosis too; mine devoured me.
This deserves a description: if asked to describe myself as a dog breed, I would like to say that I’m a Great Dane or a Mastiff (hopefully less drooly), watching the world coolly, not getting too excited about anything. But that’s not who I am. I’m a Chihuahua — but not a nasty, bitey, snarly guy with a Napoleon complex. I’m one of those pathetic little dogs that just sits there and trembles with a paw raised. I get anxious, and how. But in the past, the bouts of anxiety always passed rather quickly, perhaps in a matter of hours or, at worst, a day or two. My mind would work through it, and that would ease the tension. That’s why I’ve always been able to handle it.
But going through cancer blew that to pieces. When I experience anxiety now, it hits me like a freight train. The effects are immediate: a cold punch to my gut followed by nausea and weakness. When I focus on being mindful and present, I can slow my breathing and heartrate but I cannot get rid of the nausea, so I can’t shed the overall feeling.
This sensation is horrible. Meditation works wonders, but I cannot yet make enough space for my anxiety to be able to step back and observe it. It’s in my face, and that’s terrifying, but not necessarily apparent to those around me. It’s a dirty little secret that has affected my quality of life.
That can be harder to deal with than cancer. And I can’t believe that I let myself write that. But apparently, I’m not the only one who feels that way. Dr. Stephen Ilardi, Associate Professor of Psychology at the University of Kansas with a private practice in Clinical Psychology, teaches a Calm Master Class called “Rethinking Depression” (Calm.com) in which he describes the experience of a former cancer patient who battled Hodgkin’s lymphoma. While undergoing particularly difficult cancer treatment, the patient was visibly ill and suffering but received an enormous amount of support from those around him, and that helped him through the disease.
Several years after he recovered from his cancer, the young man experienced a bout of serious clinical depression, but he didn’t “look sick” the way he had from the lymphoma. As a result few people around him understood the level of psychological pain he endured, and he received little support.
After his depression finally lifted, the patient declared that if he had to chose between once again going through the cancer or experiencing depression, he would take the cancer even though its treatment was pure physical torment.
That speaks volumes regarding not only the agony of psychological distress but also how critically important it is to take it seriously. Mental health issues deserve more attention, and even though we’ve come a long way in understanding their impact, we need to do better. In the context of cancer, I feel it’s imperative to address the psychological repercussions of the disease, in addition to the life-threatening physical ones.
Which is why I’m writing. I can’t help but think how much worse this would be if I wasn’t actively engaged in coping techniques.