Getting Reacquainted with my Body During Cancer Treatment

This is a partial excerpt from my journal this autumn about not recognizing myself during cancer treatment. [begin journal excerpt:]

Writing this out to help ground me and calm down.

I was scrolling through my IG #SUEpportsystemNHL posts to see the evolution and dissolving of my eyebrows (they’re non-existent now and I’ve lost all of my bottom and most of my top eyelashes too). When I got to the pictures of me from chemo round 1 and I saw her smile and bright eyes, I burst into tears because I just don’t recognize her. She was so young and had no idea what she would come to know, despite knowing so much about life already.

The tears are spilling as I write this and, per usual, I’m just letting them flow because it’s helpful. I’m trying to think of a helpful metaphor for my friends who haven’t experienced cancer. It’s like seeing a picture of yourself as a toddler, but now knowing that you didn’t cause the things that happened to (not because of) you, and wishing that you could hug and encourage little you. It’s also wishing that you wouldn’t have come to understand some of the hardest parts of being alive.

Imagine seeing a younger, innocent-but-not-naive version of yourself and just feeling so far away from that not knowing way of being because you now have a much deeper understanding of the depths and experiences of what it means to be alive.

I’m a different Sue from who I was in August, not better or worse, but a Sue with new experiences that I could’ve never imagined.

Even though I physically, emotionally, and mentally might not appear too different (I’m still making my jokes and puns when I don’t have brain fog and am not fatigued. I can still sound like me in an audio message, podcast, or work meeting) know that cancer is a powerful, frightening, respectable experience that can cause traumatic growth (and some ptsd tbh). It’s valid and understandable that a person with cancer can have these unasked for experiences of growth.

I’m a Sue with physical, mental, and emotional traumatic growth. I’m a Sue who now knows that all of these bodily experiences exist and can happen in all the ways they’re showing up in my body. [end journal excerpt]

I’ve come to find journaling, painting, sharing with my therapist and my friends, anchoring in the present moment, as well as embodying self-compassionate, gentle movement to be helpful.

This not feeling at home in my body is one of the reasons why as a yoga teacher I hope to work within my communities to facilitate courageous spaces for people who are curious about or wanting to get reacquainted with their bodies and experiences in the here and now.

Reflection for comments: Has there ever been a time when you felt not at home in your own body?

Thank you for reading my perspective!
Learn more about the author here: www.sueacito.com