Coming off steroids isn't fun. I feel annoyed, shaky inside, weak on the outside. Still moon faced, horribly bloated and being very thin haired doesn't help.
The good part is, I am reducing the steroids. Hopefully I can go down to zero. That's the goal. At the moment I'm down to 3mg, from original 4mg.
The above was written about 4 weeks ago now...
Since than, all has changed. Again.
As I reduced the steroids down to 2.5mg, the pain returned with the vengeance. So I quickly increased the dose back up. And up. And up, to the old 4mg....
There goes my excitement of getting rid of the drug.
The worst part is, once the pain comes back (with the vengeance), it likes to take a very long time to settle. And by saying very long time, I mean weeks! It's happened previously and it's the third time now. I hope to have learned the lesson.
Back to the pain... Yet again! That horrid pain that keeps me up at night, makes me pop extra pills like lollies. The pain that makes me cry out loud for hours, makes me angry, frustrated, uncentered, irritated... It makes me not being able to concentrate and makes me tired, sleepy, cranky, upset, unsettled, sad, sometimes doubtful, unable to meditate .... The kind of pain that pretty much takes over my existence.
I now know it's temporarily, but that doesn't make it any easier. Easier to handle emotionally perhaps, but not physically. It is just plain hard.
In one of those moments of pain, this insight came by:
'We are never given what we are not able to handle'
Blah, blah, blah... I thought at the time, since I was in agony and I didn't feel like I was handling it at all.
But, here I am. Yes, I am strong, positive, determined and I love life, no matter. I love life so much, that no matter how bad my pain, I am willing to handle it. Handle it in any way I possibly can. I am doing whatever it takes to get well again.
Like a Yo-Yo, that's my life at the moment. And the moment seems to last forever ...
But that's it, I suppose. No matter how bad it is, there are million things around me every day, reminding me how precious and beautiful my life is.
The nature with its crisp ocean breeze, my family with the warmth of hugs and kisses, or lovely self-initiated 'I love you's by my daughter, the deliciousness of fresh, nutritious food, the fun times filled with laughter, surrounded by my dear friends, ....
All different things, great and small. In every moment of our life. Things considered good and the ones considered bad. All together, woven into this amazing journey called life.
And I decide to accept it all. Including pain.
I decide to stay right here, right now, being present in this very moment. Accepting every bit of it, as much as I possibly can. After all, Yo-Yos are meant to be fun, aren't they?
Showing posts with label awareness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awareness. Show all posts
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger"
We are all familiar with the above quote by Friedrich Nietzsche.
Yes, we all kind of believe that, don't we? Well, at least I do. The quote itself makes me feel pretty good about myself. Thinking through the words, makes me feel more at ease travelling through challenges of life. And the word 'stronger' makes me feel powerful...
But yet on occasion, I think to myself: 'What the...?'
How strong do some of us have to be? How strong will I be by the end of my life? What if I'm now content as I am, strong enough, that's it, finished, all done and dusted... ?!?! I need no more!
Unfortunately life doesn't work that way. There is no remote control to press 'pause', not even for a moment. Or perhaps there is, and that 'pause' button is actually the 'mindfulness meditation'? The time we take to just sit still for half an hour or so and do absolutely nothing. Pause. In the present moment. Completely in the now. Nowhere else.
At some points over the past year, I have found myself in that present, peaceful state quite often. It feels so amazing it's addictive.
But yet, more often than not, I find myself stuck in my busy state of mind, caught up in thoughts and with the new learned belief of 'embracing' it all, find myself slightly stressed out when something unpleasant happens and I can't really embrace it. It might make me stronger, yes, but it doesn't mean I have to embrace it.
Today, while talking to my counsellor (I should really call her my mentor instead), I realised I have been putting too much pressure on myself for trying to embrace every single moment of my life. 'Embracing' is a very powerful word and although positive, it can easily turn into negative if you find it difficult to embrace a particular situation that happens. It can cause quite a bit of stress when you are not honest with your emotions towards the circumstance. At least in my case.
I realised earlier today, I don't want to embrace unpleasant things anymore. I am accepting them though. In fact, I've learned to accept everything that came my way so far.
From now on, rather than embracing, I will just BE with it. Be, with whatever comes my way, good, bad, nice, sad, happy, exciting, horrible, annoying, irritating, or whatever else there is...
So back to the quote by Friedrich Nietzsche. Yes, great, I am strong, because I am still alive after numerous challenges of my life that could have killed me. But, how strong do I really need to become? Or better, how strong do I want to be? What if I feel I am now strong enough? Can I ask life to stop throwing the 'life threatenning' challenges at me? Please?!?!
How about you? How strong are you?
Yes, we all kind of believe that, don't we? Well, at least I do. The quote itself makes me feel pretty good about myself. Thinking through the words, makes me feel more at ease travelling through challenges of life. And the word 'stronger' makes me feel powerful...
But yet on occasion, I think to myself: 'What the...?'
How strong do some of us have to be? How strong will I be by the end of my life? What if I'm now content as I am, strong enough, that's it, finished, all done and dusted... ?!?! I need no more!
Unfortunately life doesn't work that way. There is no remote control to press 'pause', not even for a moment. Or perhaps there is, and that 'pause' button is actually the 'mindfulness meditation'? The time we take to just sit still for half an hour or so and do absolutely nothing. Pause. In the present moment. Completely in the now. Nowhere else.
At some points over the past year, I have found myself in that present, peaceful state quite often. It feels so amazing it's addictive.
But yet, more often than not, I find myself stuck in my busy state of mind, caught up in thoughts and with the new learned belief of 'embracing' it all, find myself slightly stressed out when something unpleasant happens and I can't really embrace it. It might make me stronger, yes, but it doesn't mean I have to embrace it.
Today, while talking to my counsellor (I should really call her my mentor instead), I realised I have been putting too much pressure on myself for trying to embrace every single moment of my life. 'Embracing' is a very powerful word and although positive, it can easily turn into negative if you find it difficult to embrace a particular situation that happens. It can cause quite a bit of stress when you are not honest with your emotions towards the circumstance. At least in my case.
I realised earlier today, I don't want to embrace unpleasant things anymore. I am accepting them though. In fact, I've learned to accept everything that came my way so far.
From now on, rather than embracing, I will just BE with it. Be, with whatever comes my way, good, bad, nice, sad, happy, exciting, horrible, annoying, irritating, or whatever else there is...
So back to the quote by Friedrich Nietzsche. Yes, great, I am strong, because I am still alive after numerous challenges of my life that could have killed me. But, how strong do I really need to become? Or better, how strong do I want to be? What if I feel I am now strong enough? Can I ask life to stop throwing the 'life threatenning' challenges at me? Please?!?!
How about you? How strong are you?
Monday, February 20, 2012
Mummy, what is cancer?
When I was first diagnosed with early breast cancer back in February 2008, my daughter wasn't even 1 year old. Obviously, she couldn't talk and I didn't feel the need to explain to her what was going on. The odds of survival were extremely high too. And my mum stayed with us for pretty much the whole treatment, so my little daughter did by no means feel left out on getting attention. She did, however, look at me strangely for few seconds, when I walked into her room with shaved head after my chemotherapy treatment side effects kicked in....
Almost 3 years on, in December 2010, when I was diagnosed again, all was different.
This time, it was secondary diagnosis. That, comparing to primary or early, is in itself much more serious. The secondary cancer means advanced, the one that has already spread (or metastasised) to other parts of the body. The odds for survival are much lower... In many cases so low, that people get prognosis of only few weeks to live. In my case is an average of 2-3 years. Well, luckily I am not the average person. I know I am extraordinary, as all the happenings over the past year have shown and confirmed and the way I feel right now (which according to statistics would make me either 1/2 or 1/3 dead), is nowhere near ... If anything, I feel at least 1/2 better than a year ago. On all levels, that is. And for me, the only way is up!
Anyhow, my daughter was nearly 4 years old at time of the secondary diagnosis, and by that age, kids know what's going on. They, in fact, know much more than we give them credits for.
So, how do we tell a child about cancer?
How do we explain what cancer is? Or, that there is a chance we may die way earlier than expected? Or, that we may get really sick before we get better and also that there is a chance we might not get better? And, we hear stories of people dying of cancer every day...
It was horrifying. For me, just the single thought of the possibility of me not being there for Olivia growing up was unimaginable. I can let go of absolutely anything in my life but her. She represents completely everything I've ever aspired to achieve. She is my very own masterpiece. A perfection. The biggest teacher I've known or had. Pretty much indescribable.
So how do I tell her what is going on?
I just couldn't, really. It took me few months, a few books, a 10 day cancer retreat and quite a few sessions with my counsellor to be able to talk to her about it.
And this is almost exact conversation we had:
"Olivia, I have to tell you something"
"Yes Mummy?"
"I am very very sick.... Even though I don't look like I am... but you know this back pain I've had for a long time, the one that makes me unable to lift you, and carry you and run around with you... It's a very serious illness. Many people die from it. But I am doing everything I can to get better. I am not going to die, not just yet, but if I do, I promise to tell you. You will be the first to know"
"So, Mummy, when I grow up, I won't need you anymore"
"Yes baby, do you want me to die then?"
"No, when you're old." She said with a smile on her face.
End of conversation.
Although I didn't mention the word cancer, I felt good to openly discuss the death. But I also felt overwhelmed by her response. She was not even 4 years old, but yet she's already created an image of parents being old before dying.
It did feel good to let it out though.
After that initial conversation, we had a few more through the year.
We spoke about death, but only if she started. She pretty much sensed the connection between old and dying and usually started talking about death when she watched a movie with someone dying or saw an old person.
She also often started the conversation with:
"So, my grandparents are old..." and I explained that sometimes people stay old for a very long time, being old doesn't necessary mean dying straight away. Sometimes young people die, too. Sometimes even babies.
One day in the car, when an old person was crossing the road, she again highlighted how that person may die soon. And again we went through the explanation, ended up with: the animals die, everybody dies, sometimes even kids or babies... And she said:
"Mummy, what if I die?"
"That would break my heart, baby. It would make me very sad"
"And if Daddy dies, I would be very sad." she responded.
"Of course you would be, darling. But you would be OK."
"If you die, that would make me very sad"
"Yes, baby, it would be sad, but you would still have Daddy to love you and look after you and many other people. Even if both, me and Daddy die, you have your 'Godparents' to look after you, be a part of new family, together with the two new sisters (*her nominated legal Guardians have two daughters, her best friends). You would be sad, of course, but you would be looked after, loved and taken care of"
"Yes, but I would miss you so much" she replied and I could see her thinking away a few moments still.
"Of course you would, darling..."
End of conversation.
On another occasion, quite a few months further down the track, she asked me:
"So, Mummy, how is this thing that you have called?"
"Oh, you mean this, what makes me sick?"
"Yes"
"It's cancer"
"Ah, cancer..."
"Why are you asking that? Did you hear anyone talking about it?"
"Yes"
"Who?"
"I'm not going to tell you"
End of conversation.
And so the 'cancer' word was out.
And my husband told me they had a conversation about my cancer while going for a walk. Olivia explained to him exactly what she understood my illness was. When they returned, we had a brief family conversation about it, all present, so Olivia knows there are no secrets. We are open to share and discuss with each other. No stigma attached.
On one occasion, after I was hospitalised a couple of times (after my brain surgery and after my collapsed vertebrae incident), she surprised me with the question:
"When are you not going to be sick anymore?"
That was hard.
How can I explain? So I explained (as I was just about to start chemotherapy) I might get even sicker before I get better, but set a hopeful goal of possibly feeling much better by the end of summer, after her Birthday.
It made me think. I wish I could set a date. I wish life with cancer had a defined positive deadline.
Another, to me, big issue was the hair loss. How is my daughter (whose hair is beautiful, lush, long and wavy and who idolises princesses and Barbie, and all story - book characters with super long hair), how is she going to handle her Mummy having no hair?
She took it simply. And as my hair is thinning and I complain about my 'bad hair days', she looks at me and tells me I look pretty anyway... Oh how I love her.
Even though she told me she didn't like the short wig and her obvious preference would be a lush long, princess-like one, when the 'no hair' stage occurs, I know she will accept me and show her love just the same.
I believe it is the most important to be 100% open, honest and discuss all of the awkward and unpleasant options that may occur in the future, regardless of having cancer. I want my daughter to know I am honest with her, no matter what. I want her to know she is loved and she will be loved, no matter what.
I understand that cancer has a horrible association with death attached to it and I know that she will (if she hasn't already) hear from kids at school things like: 'your Mummy has cancer, she will die'...
And when that happens, I want her to know what is really and truly going on, to be educated about the disease, about the progression and to know how to reply with confidence, to let her feelings and thoughts out clearly and to talk about it openly with myself and people around her.
Although there are moments I feel my now almost 5 year old daughter has had to grow up too fast because of my cancer, my advise to anyone talking to kids about any significant events of life wouldn't change: be open, be honest. Talk to kids, but only if or when they are open to a conversation. And be open to continue the conversation whenever they start it, because they do start it, even though it can happen at the most inconvenient place or time.
Kids are way too precious not to be 100% open to and honest with, and they are so incredibly intuitive, even if we think they don't know what's going on, believe me, they do! They know much more than we could ever possibly imagine....
Almost 3 years on, in December 2010, when I was diagnosed again, all was different.
This time, it was secondary diagnosis. That, comparing to primary or early, is in itself much more serious. The secondary cancer means advanced, the one that has already spread (or metastasised) to other parts of the body. The odds for survival are much lower... In many cases so low, that people get prognosis of only few weeks to live. In my case is an average of 2-3 years. Well, luckily I am not the average person. I know I am extraordinary, as all the happenings over the past year have shown and confirmed and the way I feel right now (which according to statistics would make me either 1/2 or 1/3 dead), is nowhere near ... If anything, I feel at least 1/2 better than a year ago. On all levels, that is. And for me, the only way is up!
Anyhow, my daughter was nearly 4 years old at time of the secondary diagnosis, and by that age, kids know what's going on. They, in fact, know much more than we give them credits for.
So, how do we tell a child about cancer?
How do we explain what cancer is? Or, that there is a chance we may die way earlier than expected? Or, that we may get really sick before we get better and also that there is a chance we might not get better? And, we hear stories of people dying of cancer every day...
It was horrifying. For me, just the single thought of the possibility of me not being there for Olivia growing up was unimaginable. I can let go of absolutely anything in my life but her. She represents completely everything I've ever aspired to achieve. She is my very own masterpiece. A perfection. The biggest teacher I've known or had. Pretty much indescribable.
So how do I tell her what is going on?
I just couldn't, really. It took me few months, a few books, a 10 day cancer retreat and quite a few sessions with my counsellor to be able to talk to her about it.
And this is almost exact conversation we had:
"Olivia, I have to tell you something"
"Yes Mummy?"
"I am very very sick.... Even though I don't look like I am... but you know this back pain I've had for a long time, the one that makes me unable to lift you, and carry you and run around with you... It's a very serious illness. Many people die from it. But I am doing everything I can to get better. I am not going to die, not just yet, but if I do, I promise to tell you. You will be the first to know"
"So, Mummy, when I grow up, I won't need you anymore"
"Yes baby, do you want me to die then?"
"No, when you're old." She said with a smile on her face.
End of conversation.
Although I didn't mention the word cancer, I felt good to openly discuss the death. But I also felt overwhelmed by her response. She was not even 4 years old, but yet she's already created an image of parents being old before dying.
It did feel good to let it out though.
After that initial conversation, we had a few more through the year.
We spoke about death, but only if she started. She pretty much sensed the connection between old and dying and usually started talking about death when she watched a movie with someone dying or saw an old person.
She also often started the conversation with:
"So, my grandparents are old..." and I explained that sometimes people stay old for a very long time, being old doesn't necessary mean dying straight away. Sometimes young people die, too. Sometimes even babies.
One day in the car, when an old person was crossing the road, she again highlighted how that person may die soon. And again we went through the explanation, ended up with: the animals die, everybody dies, sometimes even kids or babies... And she said:
"Mummy, what if I die?"
"That would break my heart, baby. It would make me very sad"
"And if Daddy dies, I would be very sad." she responded.
"Of course you would be, darling. But you would be OK."
"If you die, that would make me very sad"
"Yes, baby, it would be sad, but you would still have Daddy to love you and look after you and many other people. Even if both, me and Daddy die, you have your 'Godparents' to look after you, be a part of new family, together with the two new sisters (*her nominated legal Guardians have two daughters, her best friends). You would be sad, of course, but you would be looked after, loved and taken care of"
"Yes, but I would miss you so much" she replied and I could see her thinking away a few moments still.
"Of course you would, darling..."
End of conversation.
On another occasion, quite a few months further down the track, she asked me:
"So, Mummy, how is this thing that you have called?"
"Oh, you mean this, what makes me sick?"
"Yes"
"It's cancer"
"Ah, cancer..."
"Why are you asking that? Did you hear anyone talking about it?"
"Yes"
"Who?"
"I'm not going to tell you"
End of conversation.
And so the 'cancer' word was out.
And my husband told me they had a conversation about my cancer while going for a walk. Olivia explained to him exactly what she understood my illness was. When they returned, we had a brief family conversation about it, all present, so Olivia knows there are no secrets. We are open to share and discuss with each other. No stigma attached.
On one occasion, after I was hospitalised a couple of times (after my brain surgery and after my collapsed vertebrae incident), she surprised me with the question:
"When are you not going to be sick anymore?"
That was hard.
How can I explain? So I explained (as I was just about to start chemotherapy) I might get even sicker before I get better, but set a hopeful goal of possibly feeling much better by the end of summer, after her Birthday.
It made me think. I wish I could set a date. I wish life with cancer had a defined positive deadline.
Another, to me, big issue was the hair loss. How is my daughter (whose hair is beautiful, lush, long and wavy and who idolises princesses and Barbie, and all story - book characters with super long hair), how is she going to handle her Mummy having no hair?
She took it simply. And as my hair is thinning and I complain about my 'bad hair days', she looks at me and tells me I look pretty anyway... Oh how I love her.
Even though she told me she didn't like the short wig and her obvious preference would be a lush long, princess-like one, when the 'no hair' stage occurs, I know she will accept me and show her love just the same.
I believe it is the most important to be 100% open, honest and discuss all of the awkward and unpleasant options that may occur in the future, regardless of having cancer. I want my daughter to know I am honest with her, no matter what. I want her to know she is loved and she will be loved, no matter what.
I understand that cancer has a horrible association with death attached to it and I know that she will (if she hasn't already) hear from kids at school things like: 'your Mummy has cancer, she will die'...
And when that happens, I want her to know what is really and truly going on, to be educated about the disease, about the progression and to know how to reply with confidence, to let her feelings and thoughts out clearly and to talk about it openly with myself and people around her.
Although there are moments I feel my now almost 5 year old daughter has had to grow up too fast because of my cancer, my advise to anyone talking to kids about any significant events of life wouldn't change: be open, be honest. Talk to kids, but only if or when they are open to a conversation. And be open to continue the conversation whenever they start it, because they do start it, even though it can happen at the most inconvenient place or time.
Kids are way too precious not to be 100% open to and honest with, and they are so incredibly intuitive, even if we think they don't know what's going on, believe me, they do! They know much more than we could ever possibly imagine....
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Dear 16 year old me!
As you are all curled up in bed, completely lost in the darkness of it all, feeling totally alone, small and fragile, full of nothingness, but yet overfilled by such powerful unpleasant and confused emotions of rage and angst and totally consumed by hatred... hatred to the world around you and to yourself...
I wish I could've been there with you! I would have been holding you tight, comfort you and tell you that
- the world is so much bigger than your small 'home'
- you will go out there and explore the world and yes, you will find a place you love, a place where you feel safe and where you feel at home
- your life is so precious, this is just a stage, although a 10 years long stage, but it will pass, eventually
- the first love is nothing but a stepping stone towards the real love, which, yes, you will find in your early thirties
- the 'family' is not there to stay and haunt you through your life...
- you will be an independent adult before you know & you will leave your broken home and cut the circle of abuse and violence
- you are not alone in this world... there are many people who love you and will support you through whatever happens
- you will experience most amazing things, see & visit most amazing places, and meet many amazing people
- you will find happiness, love and contentment
- you will stop hating and learn to forgive
- you will feel loved, fulfilled, joyous, carefree and sometimes even exceptional
No matter how hard it seems, no matter how dark it seems, it is not that way. You are only 16 years old, baby, you have been unwanted, abandoned, unloved and abused...
It is extremely hard to see it, but believe me, Tina, there is a very bright light at the end of the tunnel and no matter how difficult it all seems, as time passes, it does get easier. It really is just a stage, a stage that has been going on for a very long time and started way before you were able to act on it. You were only a child then, Tina! A young, innocent child, who, by no means could have known how to defend herself.
But the great news is, you are learning the lesson, which is going to help you enormously in your future.
Life is not all rosy, as you know, and it continuously throws many challenges at you. One of them will come in the peak of your newly found happiness, when you are a new mother of most amazing little girl. You will get cancer.
And yet again you will get filled with anger and fear, resentment and guilt.
Until, at 37, the cancer returns and the most miraculous thing happens.
This time, as you face the death, something changes. You make a conscious decision to choose life. It's you, Tina, with your strength you have gathered through those many past years of suffering. It all did happen for a reason.
As you are now facing, for many people, the biggest challenge ever, it doesn't seem that way to you. It is just another challenge.
But this time, you are an adult. You are strong and you feel strong. You love and you feel loved. You are focused, determined and at ease with it. You love who you've become and therefore you love yourself. You have an enormous reason to live, you are a mother... You feel loved, safe and secure. There is no room for anger nor fear left in you....
Life is oh so precious. And you know it and therefore you live it. You truly live it, and you are at peace.
The good news is, you are only turning 39 at present and you've got many years ahead.
Keep practicing mindfulness, day in, day out, and all will be well.
Love x
Tina
I wish I could've been there with you! I would have been holding you tight, comfort you and tell you that
- the world is so much bigger than your small 'home'
- you will go out there and explore the world and yes, you will find a place you love, a place where you feel safe and where you feel at home
- your life is so precious, this is just a stage, although a 10 years long stage, but it will pass, eventually
- the first love is nothing but a stepping stone towards the real love, which, yes, you will find in your early thirties
- the 'family' is not there to stay and haunt you through your life...
- you will be an independent adult before you know & you will leave your broken home and cut the circle of abuse and violence
- you are not alone in this world... there are many people who love you and will support you through whatever happens
- you will experience most amazing things, see & visit most amazing places, and meet many amazing people
- you will find happiness, love and contentment
- you will stop hating and learn to forgive
- you will feel loved, fulfilled, joyous, carefree and sometimes even exceptional
No matter how hard it seems, no matter how dark it seems, it is not that way. You are only 16 years old, baby, you have been unwanted, abandoned, unloved and abused...
It is extremely hard to see it, but believe me, Tina, there is a very bright light at the end of the tunnel and no matter how difficult it all seems, as time passes, it does get easier. It really is just a stage, a stage that has been going on for a very long time and started way before you were able to act on it. You were only a child then, Tina! A young, innocent child, who, by no means could have known how to defend herself.
But the great news is, you are learning the lesson, which is going to help you enormously in your future.
Life is not all rosy, as you know, and it continuously throws many challenges at you. One of them will come in the peak of your newly found happiness, when you are a new mother of most amazing little girl. You will get cancer.
And yet again you will get filled with anger and fear, resentment and guilt.
Until, at 37, the cancer returns and the most miraculous thing happens.
This time, as you face the death, something changes. You make a conscious decision to choose life. It's you, Tina, with your strength you have gathered through those many past years of suffering. It all did happen for a reason.
As you are now facing, for many people, the biggest challenge ever, it doesn't seem that way to you. It is just another challenge.
But this time, you are an adult. You are strong and you feel strong. You love and you feel loved. You are focused, determined and at ease with it. You love who you've become and therefore you love yourself. You have an enormous reason to live, you are a mother... You feel loved, safe and secure. There is no room for anger nor fear left in you....
Life is oh so precious. And you know it and therefore you live it. You truly live it, and you are at peace.
The good news is, you are only turning 39 at present and you've got many years ahead.
Keep practicing mindfulness, day in, day out, and all will be well.
Love x
Tina
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
I am In A Good Place
Too often I get: 'Oh Tina, I am so sorry for you...' kind of statement from an acquaintance or a dear friend.
Lots of comparing, too, like 'I got this horrid cold / flu / gastro, nothing like you though...'
or 'Been crazy at work, way too busy, too stressful, but nothing compared to what you're going through...'
Can I please ask you all to STOP comparing!
I am in a good place.
I know how you feel. I seriously get it. I can remember, I've been there. I can still (even if only just) vaguely feel it all over my body, mostly in my chest and tummy, that unpleasant feeling of tightness, shortness of breath, stress, feeling of being trapped... Or that other feeling of being so unwell from cold or flu, that you can't get out of bed, feeling weak, one moment hot and sweaty, next moment cold and shaky... Or when your throat is so bad you can't swallow anything but a luke warm tea perhaps... Or the self inflicted sicknesses like when you had too much to drink and spend the whole night in the bathroom....Or when you picked up some gastro somewhere....
It is a horrible feeling! Horrible and horrible again. Especially when you have no time to rest (because of deadlines at work) or have no knowledge on how to handle it within you.
That feeling of constant inner stress (if repeated for lengthy periods of time), is what (to my opinion) causes serious critical illnesses such as cancer and / or many others.
All of the above are symptoms, a bit like warning signs from your physical body telling you to slow down, take a break. A rest. Time out. Perhaps take a nice relaxing holiday, respect your body, nurture it, love it... Make it feel better.
But unfortunately, more often than not, we instead pop few pills, perhaps give ourselves a day to recover, when we literally can not move, and then back to the action... Back to the busyness, stress, hobbies, parties, especially this time of the year.
Well, that was me, anyway...
Since my secondary diagnosis (it was 1 year anniversary yesterday), I have been on a healing journey.
Quite funny really, as I had a few most important projects still to finish at work last year before my 'end of year' deadline, but I had to see the Doctor because of my incapacitating back pain. I took a day off and after X - Ray results showed cancer had returned, my work disappeared from the priority list completely, totally, 100%. In fact, I have not worked from the office since 13th December 2010. A day before my diagnosis.
So, how important the job really was?
What is it that is truly important?
For me, right there and then, at the Doctor's suite delivering the news of 'cancer has returned', the only most important thing was life. Life, including my young family - my daughter, my partner and myself.
In my personal experience, that was it. As if the whole wide world (including all my other family members and dear friends) just completely disappeared.... Right there and then, in that moment of existence, there was only myself, being alive and well, with and for my daughter and my beautiful loving man. For that instant, absolutely nothing else mattered nor existed. It pretty much went blank.
It was a huge awakening.
And it was good. Priorities have since been so clear, there is no chance to ever un-see them again.
Right then, on 14th Dec 2010, with all the stresses of my past, going way back to my early childhood, the present lifestyle and the cancer diagnosis, I was in a very deep and dark place. In a place, where for few days I felt totally hopeless and seriously didn't see the way out. I had felt like I have completely lost control of life and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change it...
Luckily, I found the book that opened my eyes, filled me with hope and I was able to climb out of that deep dark abyss and into the light, seeing there was future and it can be bright.
And so my healing journey started.
Comparing myself, my well being and the place I am at now, to the place I have been for many years in my past, it's literally like day and night. It is so different, I find it extremely difficult to put it into words.
I can try to describe the current place as the place of peace of mind, emotional stability, contentment, existence without stress, lots of clarity, obvious and vivid priorities; the future that is laid in front of me like a huge circle with million possibilities and not just one single path or perhaps a couple; the belief of trust and certainty that all really and truly is unfolding perfectly...
Never mind the lumps and fractures in my body, there is so much more than physical bodies.... It's the wholeness of ourselves. It's our mind, emotions, spiritualism, soul.
They all are to be attended to and have a special place in our existence, as it's only when they all are in balance and harmony, one as human being can truly be whole & complete, which leads to that ultimate state of contentment that most of us are striving to achieve...
So next time you're tempted to compare yourself with someone with some sort of serious disease, stop yourself and have a think ... Where am I at - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually?
As for me, although I physically am the most fragile and weak I have been in my life, I'm undergoing numerous treatments to improve that one part of my existence, but I truly am in a better than ever place before - emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I am at peace.
Lots of comparing, too, like 'I got this horrid cold / flu / gastro, nothing like you though...'
or 'Been crazy at work, way too busy, too stressful, but nothing compared to what you're going through...'
Can I please ask you all to STOP comparing!
I am in a good place.
I know how you feel. I seriously get it. I can remember, I've been there. I can still (even if only just) vaguely feel it all over my body, mostly in my chest and tummy, that unpleasant feeling of tightness, shortness of breath, stress, feeling of being trapped... Or that other feeling of being so unwell from cold or flu, that you can't get out of bed, feeling weak, one moment hot and sweaty, next moment cold and shaky... Or when your throat is so bad you can't swallow anything but a luke warm tea perhaps... Or the self inflicted sicknesses like when you had too much to drink and spend the whole night in the bathroom....Or when you picked up some gastro somewhere....
It is a horrible feeling! Horrible and horrible again. Especially when you have no time to rest (because of deadlines at work) or have no knowledge on how to handle it within you.
That feeling of constant inner stress (if repeated for lengthy periods of time), is what (to my opinion) causes serious critical illnesses such as cancer and / or many others.
All of the above are symptoms, a bit like warning signs from your physical body telling you to slow down, take a break. A rest. Time out. Perhaps take a nice relaxing holiday, respect your body, nurture it, love it... Make it feel better.
But unfortunately, more often than not, we instead pop few pills, perhaps give ourselves a day to recover, when we literally can not move, and then back to the action... Back to the busyness, stress, hobbies, parties, especially this time of the year.
Well, that was me, anyway...
Since my secondary diagnosis (it was 1 year anniversary yesterday), I have been on a healing journey.
Quite funny really, as I had a few most important projects still to finish at work last year before my 'end of year' deadline, but I had to see the Doctor because of my incapacitating back pain. I took a day off and after X - Ray results showed cancer had returned, my work disappeared from the priority list completely, totally, 100%. In fact, I have not worked from the office since 13th December 2010. A day before my diagnosis.
So, how important the job really was?
What is it that is truly important?
For me, right there and then, at the Doctor's suite delivering the news of 'cancer has returned', the only most important thing was life. Life, including my young family - my daughter, my partner and myself.
In my personal experience, that was it. As if the whole wide world (including all my other family members and dear friends) just completely disappeared.... Right there and then, in that moment of existence, there was only myself, being alive and well, with and for my daughter and my beautiful loving man. For that instant, absolutely nothing else mattered nor existed. It pretty much went blank.
It was a huge awakening.
And it was good. Priorities have since been so clear, there is no chance to ever un-see them again.
Right then, on 14th Dec 2010, with all the stresses of my past, going way back to my early childhood, the present lifestyle and the cancer diagnosis, I was in a very deep and dark place. In a place, where for few days I felt totally hopeless and seriously didn't see the way out. I had felt like I have completely lost control of life and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change it...
Luckily, I found the book that opened my eyes, filled me with hope and I was able to climb out of that deep dark abyss and into the light, seeing there was future and it can be bright.
And so my healing journey started.
Comparing myself, my well being and the place I am at now, to the place I have been for many years in my past, it's literally like day and night. It is so different, I find it extremely difficult to put it into words.
I can try to describe the current place as the place of peace of mind, emotional stability, contentment, existence without stress, lots of clarity, obvious and vivid priorities; the future that is laid in front of me like a huge circle with million possibilities and not just one single path or perhaps a couple; the belief of trust and certainty that all really and truly is unfolding perfectly...
Never mind the lumps and fractures in my body, there is so much more than physical bodies.... It's the wholeness of ourselves. It's our mind, emotions, spiritualism, soul.
They all are to be attended to and have a special place in our existence, as it's only when they all are in balance and harmony, one as human being can truly be whole & complete, which leads to that ultimate state of contentment that most of us are striving to achieve...
So next time you're tempted to compare yourself with someone with some sort of serious disease, stop yourself and have a think ... Where am I at - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually?
As for me, although I physically am the most fragile and weak I have been in my life, I'm undergoing numerous treatments to improve that one part of my existence, but I truly am in a better than ever place before - emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I am at peace.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Life Is Beautiful
Funny how our moods change, our minds play up and send us such different massages, day in, day out....
It's a beautiful day today! I feel so happy. I appreciate each and every moment of my existance.
It makes me wonder what triggered the cancer thoughts to go on vacations?
Is it the meditation I managed to consistently practice for the past few days (although I fell asleep 15 minutes in - every time)?
Or is it a visit to my 'Guru', which filled me up with new energy, gave me the clarity into the next couple of month of healing journey?
Perhaps it is a lovely hour spent with my Yoga Teacher, a very wise and interesting woman with amazing stories and great energies?
Maybe it's my daughter, who has been in an extremly joyfull mood for the past couple of days....
Or the beginning of spring?
Whatever it is, it is in me, it feels great and I am not letting it go! I will be holding onto this feeling, embrace it completely and nurture it as long as possible - never mind the lumps, cracked ribs, muscle spasms...
I am content, I am in a great place, filled with peace and clarity.
Life is beautiful!
It's a beautiful day today! I feel so happy. I appreciate each and every moment of my existance.
It makes me wonder what triggered the cancer thoughts to go on vacations?
Is it the meditation I managed to consistently practice for the past few days (although I fell asleep 15 minutes in - every time)?
Or is it a visit to my 'Guru', which filled me up with new energy, gave me the clarity into the next couple of month of healing journey?
Perhaps it is a lovely hour spent with my Yoga Teacher, a very wise and interesting woman with amazing stories and great energies?
Maybe it's my daughter, who has been in an extremly joyfull mood for the past couple of days....
Or the beginning of spring?
Whatever it is, it is in me, it feels great and I am not letting it go! I will be holding onto this feeling, embrace it completely and nurture it as long as possible - never mind the lumps, cracked ribs, muscle spasms...
I am content, I am in a great place, filled with peace and clarity.
Life is beautiful!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)