Tag: breastcancer

Returning home over and over again.

by Maasaisis

As my nervous system gradually returns to regulation, I’m reminded that healing is an ongoing journey, a continuous return home to oneself. The last few months have been like a bad acid trip shaped by the opinions of medical specialists that have transformed my life into a state of emergency. It’s incredible how radical a change can take place when value is given to meaning.

The foundation that supported my vibrant life with cancer began to crumble swiftly, and I was horrified at the rapid rate at which my health declined in response to my state. For over four years, I managed without the physical ripples of what society teaches us about cancer. My mind was steadfastly convinced of my body’s healing, until doubt set in.

My psyche was triggered, prompting my body to signal that surgery was the inevitable next step for my healing. This meant re-entering the medical system I had resolutely avoided for the last few years. Once I stepped in, a PET scan was required before meeting the surgeon to discuss my surgery. Previous scans indicated localized cancer in my breast, affirming my long-held belief that cancer does not “spread” but is born of separate traumas that accumulate along the way, often in dealing with the initial diagnosis and the fear it triggers.

Given my understanding of German New Medicine, it has become a double-edged sword, particularly in navigating the medical terrain filled with personal triggers from my past. Despite my reluctance, I underwent the PET scan to honor the commitment I made towards my healing, believing it meant the removal of my breast.

The shock was palpable when the results placed me in the category of systemic treatment before a mastectomy. Other areas showed higher sugar uptakes, hinting at potential cancer activity elsewhere.

In fight or flight mode, every ounce of knowledge abandons you when you need it the most, leaving you paralyzed in a state of fear. What made it worse was knowing I was only compounding the situation by staying in that state. Despite my spiritual training, I couldn’t break free except through drug-induced sleep. So, I resorted to opiates to escape my mind and pain, turning off my switch and hoping that in another realm where I existed, I would find my way through this.

I thought mastectomy was my ultimate offering, a fair trade for my freedom. Never did I fathom hormone treatment, radiation, or, God forbid, chemo! Was this some cosmic joke, the gods mocking me with, “You haven’t surrendered it all, honey!”

My entire system went berserk—angry rashes, swollen eyes, a clenched jaw, and an inflamed breast causing a constant fever. I’ve shed too much weight in too short a time. Terror shadowed me, and the woman in the mirror seemed unrecognizable. Worst of all, my faith wavered, and I sought refuge in opiates to evade confronting it, weakly promising myself that a good sleep would provide the strength to deal with it all when I woke up.

The opiates plunged me into depression, disempowered me, worsened my symptoms, and transformed me into a groveling victim. I knew that I needed to gather myself up and face this mother fucker of a situation- that meant a break from numbing myself. Around that time, my attuned parents responded to my SOS and decided resolutely to be by my side. Within a few days, my Da was giving me acupuncture treatments in my living room while my mom cooked beautiful macrobiotic foods and insisted on a strict schedule of copious supplements.

My DNA donors mirror my essence, blending my Japanese mom’s practicality with my Da’s stoic faith. They, along with my incredible husband, don’t have the answers, but together, we’re navigating the path. I sense myself returning home to the sanctuary within, anchored in love.

I must not fear the journey ahead but trust that clues will guide my way, as they always have. Recognizing the significance of remaining utterly open, I continue to trust in the guidance that will unfold. My task is to stay open until I know and to decipher what is not serving me, a process that can be a quagmire of stubborn belief systems.

God certainly works in mysterious ways and I am reminded that is through the extension of God’s Creations. I have to believe that help is on the way coming in ways that I can’t predict. Most importantly, I must not forget the boundless place within me where peace always abides, leaving my mind behind. I must continue to return there over and over again, whatever it takes.

LESSON: HEALING IS A JOURNEY CONTINUALLY COMING HOME TO YOURSELF.

RESOLUTION

by Maasaisis

Resolution came in a way that emerged from a perspective that did not want to be seen. I’ve been praying for clarity, ease, and peace. God responded, but not in the way that I wanted.

Lately, the acute pain in my breast has left me feeling vulnerable. It’s only natural for humans to seek refuge from pain by resorting to what makes them feel safe. Often, we persist in our familiar ways, even if they keep us on the same track. As Albert Einstein wisely said, “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” It’s a reminder that to find true resolution, we must be willing to explore new paths even if we don’t want to go there.

I’ve been on this healing journey for four years, primarily navigating it on my own. I’ve now reached a turning point where it’s evident that the very thing I’ve been resolutely avoiding from the beginning of this journey is what I need to embrace.

When I reflect on the day I received my diagnosis, my initial knowing, before fear overwhelmed me, was that cancer had arrived as a teacher. It came to me so that I would change my life and reveal aspects of myself that needed to be seen. Looking back from where I am now, deepening my relationship with myself turns out to be an extremely humbling choice.

What has sustained me through the most challenging time in my life has been my unwavering faith in my ability to heal myself. This faith has given me the courage to persevere. The trail I blazed brought me close to God and to my true Self. What I know now is that there are more layers that are ready to be lifted.

It’s ironic that my practice has been about letting go because I’ve finally come to the realization that I need to let go of what I have been holding onto so tightly. I’ve been holding onto the day that my lumps would dissolve and that the discipline of staying on the path of faith would finally pay off. How can it not, when I have been so dedicated, so strong?

In this moment, I honestly can’t tell if it was my strength that kept me going or my stubbornness to be right. I have endured so much and did things in the name of healing that still blows my mind. I thought I’d surrendered everything necessary to heal, except for one thing that I adamantly refused to release.

In all this time, I have never given one iota of thought to a mastectomy. It was something I refused to let into my field of consciousness. It was my hard “no,” and that was the only energy it got from me. I have never allowed myself to look at pictures of women who have removed their breast(s) or have had reconstructive surgery. It was just not an option for me… that is until now.

It’s a humbling realization that what I’ve been praying for may only come through the very thing I’ve been avoiding. The persistent pain in my breast is a constant reminder that something needs to change. My pain tolerance is exceptionally high, particularly when I’ve convinced myself that enduring it is the key to ultimately preserving my breast. This unwavering stoicism, ironically, may well have hindered my progress in healing.

Letting go of my breast is hard, but letting go of the belief that I could heal this on my own is even harder. I see that so clearly now. I know that I have grown because I am able to accept my reality without going to a place of defeat or failure. That would have been the old me. Instead, I now hold myself in deep reverence for finally reaching a place of acceptance.

I have to let go of the identity I’ve built around being on this incredible healing journey. Let go of the one who had been walking on the road less traveled. Let go of the part of myself that I have been protecting. Let go of the idea that healing means that I would save my breast. Let go of my judgments toward the medical system. Let go of what I think I know and having to be right. Letting go of this idea that I have to do this on my own.

This time, I approached things differently, reaffirming that I’ve indeed healed in less obvious places. I called on my family and beloved sisters to let them in on my grief. This was something I was incapable of doing at the beginning of my healing journey. I let my pain seep out and onto them to receive. I let them hold me as I dissolved not my tumours but the part of me that was holding on so tight. I let myself be vulnarable, scared and clear all at the same time.

Now, I go to a place I have not been before. It’s uncharted territory where I will surrender my faith to another to help me. I’ll draw upon the lessons I’ve learned in the past four years to approach this with a different kind of strength. It’s a strength that’s all-encompassing, one that can find grace even in the most challenging of places.

LESSON: Growth may come in ways that we resist.

“Leaning In”- Still in progress.