Well, here we are again. Another month of surviving cancer. Getting ever closer to the big one.
So, I still have cancer (duh). I get a lot of people sending prayers for miracles, positive vibes, so much hope that this incurable cancer will just fix itself. I really appreciate all of the positivity, but it is important to remember that positivity can become toxic, such that the patient is essentially blamed for not being positive enough, at which point, it becomes her fault that she is still without that miracle.
To be clear, I am not saying that I reject positivity, only that I take it with a realistic view of the science, and the primary treatment planning led by one of the best medical oncologists in the region. No Dr. Google. Please do not recommend drugs (legal or otherwise) or CBD oil. I will take the many drugs recommended by my oncological team. I will not try the MJ, because I just don't like it. If my primary oncologist prescribes MJ for me, I'll take it. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
Anyway. after all this time, and all of these surgeries and adjusted treatment plans, I really appreciate all of the support, kindness and love that all of you keep pushing in my direction. For that, you truly are awesome friends and family.
Showing posts with label toxic positivity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label toxic positivity. Show all posts
May 27, 2020
November 13, 2019
Books: When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron (part 2)
So let's continue talking about When Things Fall Apart. As a reminder, so far I've talked about embracing fear.
The Venerable Pema Chodron references a sign pinned up on her wall that says:
I've never been good at vulnerability. Events that have happened in the past have led to me building a wall around my heart. There are very few people allowed past that wall.
I've always assumed that, because I have a wall around my heart, others have the same. I keep people at arm's length because I don't trust them to be mindful of my soft spots, and because I've unintentionally caused pain by not being mindful of others' soft spots. I've been so afraid of being hurt, of being vulnerable, or of hurting someone else, that I created a boogeyman in my mind to protect my soft spots and keep most everyone else at bay.
The thing is, having a wall around my heart that is guarded by that boogeyman leads to a lonely existence. I've mentioned the three faces before, and because of this blog, I have forced myself to show more of my Second Face than I would typically be comfortable showing. This process of self-discovery has been painful and humbling.
I didn't realize that my loneliness was my own doing.
With pain and humility, I have been slowly tearing down that wall. People have told me that I am so strong to go through this. So brave.
But when I think about it, I don't feel strength, and I certainly don't feel brave. Yet here I am going through treatments that I don't like, that make me feel sick, that make my hair fall out, that make me so tired, that affect my short-term memory in ways that frustrate me to no end, that make me feel stupid because I have a hard time remembering words or staying on any one train of thought.
What I am doing is not strength or bravery. What I'm doing is what I have to do to survive, which means that I'm exposing myself to literal and metaphorical annihilation.
The interesting thing is that I am getting closer to finding that nugget that is indestructible. Self-examination of the mind, body, and soul is daunting, but it has also forced me to be honest with myself in ways that I never expected. I am finally getting to know my Third Face, and I am finally learning that I don't have to run away from pain, and I don't have to be afraid to be vulnerable.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter if I run from the pain. It will be there if it needs to be there. This emotional roller coaster from hell has taught me that we are all vulnerable. We are all afraid. We all feel pain. What if we worked on exposing our vulnerability so that we can find the essence of strength deep inside of us?
The Venerable Pema Chodron references a sign pinned up on her wall that says:
"Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us" (Chodron 8).
I've never been good at vulnerability. Events that have happened in the past have led to me building a wall around my heart. There are very few people allowed past that wall.
I've always assumed that, because I have a wall around my heart, others have the same. I keep people at arm's length because I don't trust them to be mindful of my soft spots, and because I've unintentionally caused pain by not being mindful of others' soft spots. I've been so afraid of being hurt, of being vulnerable, or of hurting someone else, that I created a boogeyman in my mind to protect my soft spots and keep most everyone else at bay.
The thing is, having a wall around my heart that is guarded by that boogeyman leads to a lonely existence. I've mentioned the three faces before, and because of this blog, I have forced myself to show more of my Second Face than I would typically be comfortable showing. This process of self-discovery has been painful and humbling.
I didn't realize that my loneliness was my own doing.
With pain and humility, I have been slowly tearing down that wall. People have told me that I am so strong to go through this. So brave.
But when I think about it, I don't feel strength, and I certainly don't feel brave. Yet here I am going through treatments that I don't like, that make me feel sick, that make my hair fall out, that make me so tired, that affect my short-term memory in ways that frustrate me to no end, that make me feel stupid because I have a hard time remembering words or staying on any one train of thought.
What I am doing is not strength or bravery. What I'm doing is what I have to do to survive, which means that I'm exposing myself to literal and metaphorical annihilation.
The interesting thing is that I am getting closer to finding that nugget that is indestructible. Self-examination of the mind, body, and soul is daunting, but it has also forced me to be honest with myself in ways that I never expected. I am finally getting to know my Third Face, and I am finally learning that I don't have to run away from pain, and I don't have to be afraid to be vulnerable.
"[T]he truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy" (Chodron 9).
Ultimately, it doesn't matter if I run from the pain. It will be there if it needs to be there. This emotional roller coaster from hell has taught me that we are all vulnerable. We are all afraid. We all feel pain. What if we worked on exposing our vulnerability so that we can find the essence of strength deep inside of us?
November 10, 2019
Books: When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron (part 1)
I was talking to a friend several days ago, and the topic of Hard Times came up in conversation. Hard Times include my cancer, but it also includes the other difficult things that life throws at us.
In American society, there is so much of this idea that if we work hard and have a good attitude, then everything will work out the way it's supposed to. As a result, when people are going through a particularly difficult time, whether it's chronic or terminal illness, whether it's death or divorce, whether it's mental illness or heartbreak, we feel compelled to grin and bear it. Be strong. Don't air your dirty laundry. Think about that stigma around mental illness, for example. We don't tend to talk about depression or anxiety disorders, as if they were shameful, yet we are not ashamed to admit that we caught a cold or flu. This idea that a positive attitude and a go-get-'em spirit will prevail can be so problematic, especially when considering what that means if you don't have a positive attitude. Does that mean that we deserve whatever life throws at us if we aren't positive enough?
This book is by an American Buddhist nun, which immediately piqued my interest because I can remember reading the Dalai Lama's The Art of Happiness about fifteen or twenty years ago. It fundamentally changed how I view and interact with people, and so far, I am finding When Things Fall Apart changing how I view myself.
Amazon has this to say:
I haven't finished this book yet, but I have so many thoughts and feelings that I decided to just jump right in and start doing my thing. You may have followed along while I was responding to and discussing Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I've Loved by Kate Bowler. I plan to follow a similar format where I talk about this book for multiple posts.
This is only the introductory post for this book, if any of you would like to get your hands on it to read with me.
The Venerable Pema Chodron says this in the first chapter:
Another dear friend of mine once told me that sometimes you have to "embrace the suck." In fairness, this was my Badass Marine friend, so his version is a little less poetic, but the sentiment remains the same.
I will be the first to admit that I am afraid of a lot of things, including but not limited to my cancer, heights, snakes, catching the flu, and the dark.
The truth is that somehow, at some point, I became the kind of person who enjoys doing frightening things. Skydiving. Ziplining. Swimming with manatees*.
When I went skydiving, and Ijumped was pushed out of that plane, even though I am afraid of falling, afraid of flying, and afraid of heights, I suddenly realized one key fundamental point: No matter how scared I was, no matter how hard I screamed, the outcome was inevitable: I would hit the ground.
Of course, it was important to trust that the parachute would work, and we would have a nice soft landing, but even if it didn't, fear is not stronger than gravity, and no matter how frightened I was, fear would not allow me to spontaneously grow wings. I had to accept that mind-numbing terror and sit with it. That gave me the opportunity to just be in the moment, where I was, 13,500 feet in the air.
Being unable to escape the pull of gravity, I realized how big the world is, and how tiny I am. This was unexpectedly comforting for me, because it made me realize that I was just a tiny little scared blip. In reality, we are all tiny little scared blips. Some hide it with arrogance, some with vanity, some with emotional walls built to keep people away.
What happens when we embrace that fear? What happens when we stop trying to run from that fear?
*I know that manatees won't hurt anyone, and they are super cute, but I am still afraid they might be secret carnivores. Don't judge me.
In American society, there is so much of this idea that if we work hard and have a good attitude, then everything will work out the way it's supposed to. As a result, when people are going through a particularly difficult time, whether it's chronic or terminal illness, whether it's death or divorce, whether it's mental illness or heartbreak, we feel compelled to grin and bear it. Be strong. Don't air your dirty laundry. Think about that stigma around mental illness, for example. We don't tend to talk about depression or anxiety disorders, as if they were shameful, yet we are not ashamed to admit that we caught a cold or flu. This idea that a positive attitude and a go-get-'em spirit will prevail can be so problematic, especially when considering what that means if you don't have a positive attitude. Does that mean that we deserve whatever life throws at us if we aren't positive enough?
This book is by an American Buddhist nun, which immediately piqued my interest because I can remember reading the Dalai Lama's The Art of Happiness about fifteen or twenty years ago. It fundamentally changed how I view and interact with people, and so far, I am finding When Things Fall Apart changing how I view myself.
Amazon has this to say:
How can we live our lives when everything seems to fall apart—when we are continually overcome by fear, anxiety, and pain? The answer, Pema Chödrön suggests, might be just the opposite of what you expect. Here, in her most beloved and acclaimed work, Pema shows that moving toward painful situations and becoming intimate with them can open up our hearts in ways we never before imagined. Drawing from traditional Buddhist wisdom, she offers life-changing tools for transforming suffering and negative patterns into habitual ease and boundless joy.
I haven't finished this book yet, but I have so many thoughts and feelings that I decided to just jump right in and start doing my thing. You may have followed along while I was responding to and discussing Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I've Loved by Kate Bowler. I plan to follow a similar format where I talk about this book for multiple posts.
This is only the introductory post for this book, if any of you would like to get your hands on it to read with me.
The Venerable Pema Chodron says this in the first chapter:
"It's not a terrible thing that we feel fear when faced with the unknown. It is part of being alive, something we all share. We react against the possibility of loneliness, of death, of not having anything to hold on to. Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth. If we commit ourselves to staying right where we are, then our experience becomes very vivid. Things become clear when there is nowhere to escape" (Chodron 2).
Another dear friend of mine once told me that sometimes you have to "embrace the suck." In fairness, this was my Badass Marine friend, so his version is a little less poetic, but the sentiment remains the same.
I will be the first to admit that I am afraid of a lot of things, including but not limited to my cancer, heights, snakes, catching the flu, and the dark.
The truth is that somehow, at some point, I became the kind of person who enjoys doing frightening things. Skydiving. Ziplining. Swimming with manatees*.
When I went skydiving, and I
Of course, it was important to trust that the parachute would work, and we would have a nice soft landing, but even if it didn't, fear is not stronger than gravity, and no matter how frightened I was, fear would not allow me to spontaneously grow wings. I had to accept that mind-numbing terror and sit with it. That gave me the opportunity to just be in the moment, where I was, 13,500 feet in the air.
Being unable to escape the pull of gravity, I realized how big the world is, and how tiny I am. This was unexpectedly comforting for me, because it made me realize that I was just a tiny little scared blip. In reality, we are all tiny little scared blips. Some hide it with arrogance, some with vanity, some with emotional walls built to keep people away.
What happens when we embrace that fear? What happens when we stop trying to run from that fear?
*I know that manatees won't hurt anyone, and they are super cute, but I am still afraid they might be secret carnivores. Don't judge me.
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