The Emotional and Psychological Toll of Cancer
When I heard the word “cancer,” my whole world shifted.
As time went on, everyone including me was focused on my scans, my treatments, and my side effects, like the awful mouth sores I had and how my sense of taste shifted three times. Foods that I loved before cancer, I either hated during treatment, or I just couldn’t eat them anymore.
Beneath all that physical stuff, I was carrying a heavy, invisible weight. The emotional toll was fierce. I dealt with real depression, completely lost interest in the things I used to love and often felt hopeless when I was just trying to survive the day. It wasn’t a clinical depression that would require lifelong medication but more of a depression caused by grief. I mourned the loss of the old, workaholic, determined version of me.
Anxiety and panic became my daily reality. I lay awake most nights with battling thoughts, terrified about my unknown future. I had too many thoughts about dying. Every single test brought a fresh wave of fear as I braced myself for more bad news. I felt angry and frustrated and out of control. I’ve always loved being in control of my future and my daily activity and now, I wasn’t. I was afraid.
As the fight went on, the loneliness hit me hard, even when I was standing in a room full of people. I pulled away from friends and family because I felt like they just didn’t get it. I didn’t want them to see me weak and helpless, and that put a massive strain on my relationships. Still does. I was always the person who put on a brave face and now, I just couldn’t find that within me.
I started losing my sense of self. I looked in the mirror and saw “the patient” instead of me. That total loss of identity forced me to question everything and look at my own mortality. I had to learn that facing these emotions is just as important as treating my physical symptoms.
Maybe though, that’s what I had to do. Sometimes. It seems like I moved ‘me’ out and the patient in. The patient fought this unfair disease with every ounce of strength she could find. The patient faced her feelings head-on and took back some of the control that the disease tried to steal from me. The patient took the workaholic, determined version of the old me and used that to fight. My sadness, panic, and isolation didn’t mean I was failing. I was NOT BROKEN.
Accepting that this was my battle to be fought is how I learned to manage chaos and keep moving forward. This is simply one of the unfiltered truths of dealing with cancer.
If you are feeling this too and need someone who gets it, I would love to hear your story.
I know how overwhelming these days can feel.
That’s why I wrote NOT BROKEN: The Unfiltered Daily Truth in Fighting Cancer.
It’s the book I wish I had when I was trying to process the diagnosis, navigate treatment, and hold onto myself through it all.
If this article resonated with you, the book, NOT BROKEN The Unfiltered Daily Truth in Fighting Cancer, goes deeper into the day-to-day realities of cancer, honestly, practically, and without filters.
Read about NOT BROKEN here → www.Amazon.com/dp/B0GT2G4S3D