The (giant) Straw That Broke the Camel's Back
Let's go on a walk down memory lane and take a look at Melinda, pre-cancer.
I was 27 years old, married, 2 year old in tow and pregnant with my second daughter. I was aware that I had been through some shit in my childhood and teenage years, but always very aware that many people had had it MUCH worse. I thought of myself as a pretty successful adult.
I checked the boxes:
Great career, check. Happy marriage, check. Owned a home, check. Wasn't an alcoholic or drug addict, check! I was balancing it all in everyone else's eye's, I mean that's what really matters, right?
Fast-forward to after my cancer treatment was over. I felt lost at sea. During treatment there is always something to do, something to plan for, something to check off the list. Medications, doctor visits, lab draws, scans, hospital stays. But what about when all of that ends? When they say, "okay! your cancer is gone" or in my case, "okay! we think your cancer is gone. You can go back to living life now!" That's when the proverbial shit really hits the fan. What's wild is that, that is when the support retreats as well. Well meaning friends and family celebrate with you, breathe a sigh of relief and say, "Thank god that's over!" But for a cancer patient, that's usually where the struggles really begin.
What's on the checklist now? Go back to normal life? What is normal life? What is life? Who the fuck am I?
I don't look the same, I don't act the same, I don't feel the same. Where do I go from here? If this seems dramatic, (I mean, I do have a flair for the dramatics), I've discovered from talking to other cancer survivors that is an extremely common experience.
In my case, I started to get really depressed. I tried my hardest every single day, but sometimes my hardest was barely being able to get out of bed. And the thing was, that a lot of my well-meaning loved ones didn't want the hear about it. I mean, they suffered too during my cancer treatment, they were stressed too. So when I rang that bell that signified the end of treatment, in their minds, they were done. The shitstorm was over. So when I tried to talk about my struggles post-treatment I was met with uncomfortable body language, shifty eyes and short responses.
Look, hyper vigilance is an unwelcome skill I have been cursed with since I was a child (more on that later), so it didn't take me long to start thinking that I was the problem. I'm too much. I should be OVER THIS by now. I would think to myself, "Why can't you just be happy? You survived, while so many others didn't."
I didn't know what to do. But I did know... I needed help.
I had never been to therapy and never thought that I needed it up until that point in my life. I mean, I was a success story! Refer back to the checklist. I had gone from a childhood filled with trailer park hopping and addiction and actually made something of myself. When I would tell stories about my past, I was met with disturbed looks and questions like, "How did you turn out so normal?"
"I don't know," I would shrug. "I just pushed through!"
As I sat in front of my laptop screen, meeting my therapist for the first time, (thanks covid) she began to ask me some intake questions. These included things like what brought me to seek therapy? Have I ever had therapy before? Have I ever been diagnosed with anxiety or depression. My answers looked something like, I had cancer while pregnant, before that I've never struggled with my mental health, I'm just here to deal with the cancer stuff.
The kind-eyed therapist on the other side of the screen nodded in agreement and then began asking questions related to my family and my upbringing. Any addiction? Food scarcity? Emotional instability? Neglect?
When the answers started pouring out of me, that's when she knew, well before I did, that I wasn't just needing help dealing with cancers effect on my life. Cancer was just the straw, (though to be fair, a giant straw) that broke the camel's back.
Sometimes it takes hitting rock bottom before you realize how affected you have actually been by the hard things we have been through. And while I fully believe these things shape us to be who we are and teach us valuable lessons, they also can instill negative core beliefs, anxieties, habits and literally rewire our brain in a way that holds us back from our truest selves.
I'm curious how many of us had to experience a major trauma in adulthood to finally seek out help for prior trauma's. Let me know your experience in the comments or dm me on insta @melinda_kirby.
Sending all my love,
MK