Anniversary of a diagnosis
I woke up this morning feeling the familiar ache. My affected breast tender, emotions raw. Quietly making my coffee before my little family awoke, grateful for solitude to collect myself. The body holds onto trauma. While time does soften the edges, March remains a challenging month. Fatigue, anxiety, and lingering pain marking the anniversary of my diagnosis.
Yesterday's news of Princess Kate tore at my already fragile state. Tears fell for her, her family, and selfishly for myself. Her graceful composure beautifully covered the pain I know all too well, bringing me back to my own shattered world three years prior. The stark reality of cancer: appointments, treatments, uncertainties, and a new identity, a dark cloud you cannot seem to shake occupying every thought. A journey from pre-cancer self to treatment phase and into a forever changed new normal that will never be normal. I recall listening to a podcast early in my cancer journey were a survivor lamented that she feels that people must be sick of hearing about her cancer, yet, she was sick of living it. This statement stuck with me and I frequently feel it to my very core.
Hair regrown, scars faded, yet the invisible marks persist. A life now intertwined with trauma. A survivor, bearing the weight of toxic treatments for the sake of survival. I live with the daily reminder that I will never reach the state of normal I once felt. While most days I feel good in this new normal, at times the reality sneaks up on me or my body doesn’t want to cooperate in ways I wish it would, in ways it used to without hesitation.
I don’t write this for pity or even sympathy. I write about this for understanding and with the hope that someone reading it may feel seen. Each day I, and many other survivors, navigate through the complexities of a body that tells a story of battles fought, yet still grapples with the aftermath. The struggle may be invisible to most, its presence undeniable to those who have lived it.
The realization that I am not navigating the uncharted territory of post-treatment life alone brings a sense of peace and validation. The path to healing is far from linear; it is a deeply personal journey. By opening up and sharing my story, my aim is to foster a sense of community and provide support to others so that they, too, can feel truly acknowledged and understood.