Learning to Be

Before my metastatic breast cancer diagnosis I had learned to meditate on the advice of my then-therapist. It certainly wasn’t easy. I used a free app on my phone and still remember when I was proud to be able to last 5 minutes. I used meditation frequently after my diagnosis, especially during chemo treatments, radiation treatments and gamma knife treatments. Meditation is not an escape from the situation; Rather, it is a discipline that allows you to be present only in the moment without a jumble of mixed messages turning in your mind. Life for my family became pretty messy in the last year and I stopped meditating because I could never turn off the roar of my mind. My current therapist has asked me to work on learning to be.

Learning to be is a spiritual discipline of solitude, prayer and meditation. It is the practice of mindful self-compassion. I was born into a caregiver role. I feel a strong sense of duty to family and have worked to be always available, resourceful and dependable. Unfortunately I never learned to also make that care available to me. If I can give it to others, I know it exists in me. I need to learn how to access it, to stop believing I am alone in my problems and to find power in connection. Mindfulness is a way of turning toward a difficult experience instead of away from it. We tend to look for escape from all the thoughts and emotions that come with difficulties. Instead, we should turn toward those thoughts so that we can have some compassion for ourselves and learn to take care of ourselves as well as we take care of our loved ones. I am starting back with basics of meditation and also practicing sitting quietly with my thoughts instead of trying to escape them with busyness.

It has been more than 3.5 years since my metastatic breast cancer diagnosis. That means I have outlived the average. The average survival for an MBC patient with brain mets is 2 years. My first brain mets were discovered 2.5 years ago yesterday. People like to tell me that I’m going to live for many years, even though none of us know that timeline. People say those things because that is what they need to believe. Sometimes I say it simply because I need to believe it. But every week friends in my MBC groups face progression. It is rare for two weeks to pass without the loss of an MBC friend. I will have my 66th chemo treatment this week. The side effects are cumulative. Bone and joint pain challenge my daily activities. Sudden diarrhea is a regular occurrence to the point that I prefer to stay home and bring spare clothes when I leave home. My finger nails and toe nails crumble like chalk. Chemo brain causes aphasia to the point that I now subscribe to brain games that I play every night before bed to try to combat the loss of word recall. And although we like to say that money doesn’t matter, the financial toxicity of MBC is challenging.

I have embarked on a new journey to not hide from my emotions using false busyness. I am embracing my friends in the MBC community who understand my challenges so well. I have found two online support groups and look forward to those biweekly meetings. I am using word and art journals to name the things roaring in my head so they will be quiet and allow me to rest. I use my oasis (my secluded west porch on my farmhouse) as a spiritual beach. I turn to God as I would a doctor, teacher, therapist or friend. My problems might be very different from yours, but I wonder if these same practices would help you, too?