Winter
New Year Cancer Diagnosis
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Back in January 2011 at the age of 36 years old, the ice flecked air and horizon darkened skies reflected my life perfectly. Being diagnosed with aggressive ER and PR positive breast cancer came as a devastating shock and I was struggling to cope with its realization. To make matters worse my Father had been diagnosed with colo-rectal cancer just the day before my own cancer diagnosis! Could it get any worse? In an instant my stable, carefree life vanished and I slowly descended into a dark mental abyss.
Think of the movie Soul with the snake armed mono-eyed blobs shuffling around in the dark. I was one of those blobs. Anyone who has struggled with anxiety or depression knows this place well, and it's not an easy escape once there too long. The hole one falls into doesn't seem to follow the scientific laws on earth, with gravity staying constant each fall. Each descent into the abyss gets progressively deeper and the draw gets ever stronger, like a giant vortex that keeps pulling, dragging you further and further from life.
The deeper the hole, the less possibility of escaping the well worn mind ruts and their assurance of spiralized mental Hell. Taken to the end I assume ultimate death by stress and subsequent illness, or simple insanity. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was definitely on my way to that fork.
My largest cancerous mass was a whopping 8cm x 6cm- the size of which I'd never heard anyone surviving. It had also spread to my lymph nodes and potentially invaded the chest wall which would be tough, if not impossible, to eradicate. With 4 young daughters, the youngest twins only 4 years old- I was hysterical at the thought of them losing their mother. Death was a very real and present danger, and I was beyond desperate to survive.
Paxil Cold Turkey
The hunt to find the explanation for my cancer led to an article mentioning that Paxil didn't cause breast cancer per se, but it could very well fuel it. Right then I decided to stop taking Paxil-full stop. This is the medication that had kept my anxiety at bay for the past 5 years as I struggled with my mother's cancer and ultimate death. This medicine kept me out of the dark tunnel where I perpetually worried about everything- especially regarding health ironically-and couldn't enjoy life.
Hind sight is 20/20 and it's clear now that stopping Paxil wasn't my greatest idea. Paxil should never be suddenly stopped but rather tapered over time due to the nasty withdrawal effects. I just didn't care at that point. I didn't want to put anything into my body that could potentially fuel the breast cancer. Period. Like I said before- I was beyond reason.
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Yes, the dizziness, headaches, nausea, and general malaise weren't fun, but it was short term and over in about a week. I truly believed I was fine and didn't need medication anymore. Boy was I was wrong. Within weeks I was struggling to control my rising anxiety. I still didn't clue in, thinking that anyone in my situation would suffer similarly. I just had to keep dealing, keep moving, keep solving. "That's what people do" I told myself.
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Awful thoughts that dogged me:
1. I Grew up in a loving home
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2. Lived an idyllic childhood
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3. Never experienced anything truly horrific
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4. Enjoyed a loving marriage
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5. Had four healthy children
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6. Had money and the means to do almost anything
The list of blessings could go on forever​ and there was nothing to complain about. What was this anxiety business all about? That's what happens to people who have real problems, right? As far as I could tell I just needed to buck up.
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The anxiety started as butterflies in my stomach, and in the beginning I could pull myself out for brief periods of time for a reprieve. Over time it just kept getting harder and the more I tried to control it, the worse it got. My left hand and foot would buzz exactly the same as if I were holding a cellphone on vibrate...but I wasn't. Sensing this buzzing I would look down to see if I was leaning or touching something vibrating, but I never was. To this day, no doctor can explain it other than to admit that there are still many mysteries yet to understand within the human body.
My anxiety kept escalating and within a matter of days the adrenaline pumped like a pre-programmed bomb shelling from beyond, and I was simply it's victim. My ability to mentally and physically calm down was long gone and my body was exhausted from the pedal to the metal barrage of adrenaline flowing through it. Not logic or anything else provided solace. I just wanted it to stop and I didn't care how or what would make it end.
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Rest is what I dreamed and longed for. The amount of sleep didn't seem to matter because I always awoke feeling exhausted. It's funny how the thought never even crossed my mind that other anti-anxiety meds existed that could hep my situation. Immediate relief seemed irrationally impossible at this point.
If someone had knocked on my door and promised that Eve's apple would cure the anxiety, I would have devoured it without a second thought. That's how bad I was. I didn't want to die- that fear was actually fueling my anxiety- however I also didn't want to exist in such a state.
Eat This
At this time, my husband John was working everyday but I kept interrupting him in full blown panic episodes. How awful of me to burden that man, but I just didn't know what to do. I remember one day in particular where my panic had risen to an unsustainable level and I couldn't manage it alone. I don't know what words tumbled out of my mouth but John was obviously panicked because he called my good friend to come visit me while he sped home from work.
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In the meantime my friend took me to her house for my first drag of marijuana. Like I said, I was willing to try anything. I took one small drag and practically choked when the smoke entered and burned in my lungs. I tried a second time which also ended in a fit of laughing and coughing. I remember my friend asking if I felt any different, and I really wasn't sure. She told me to have one last puff because that's all she usually needed to feel a nice buzz. The relief was very mild and not enough to be honest. I was terrified nothing could ultimately help me.
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I made an emergency appointment with my oncologist the very next day to let him know about my mental state. I even confided about my desperate marijuana attempt, and he was so gracious and understanding about it all without a trace of judgement. He prescribed a fast-acting panic med to help until the longterm SSRI meds kicked in. I finally had help, and what a relief! I wouldn't wish persistent anxiety or panic on my worst enemy. It's just too awful to bear and thank God there's medicine available that can treat it.
Shame
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I used to feel embarrassed and ashamed for having to rely on pills to keep me feeling normal, but I reason it this way: a diabetic doesn't feel badly for taking insulin- a substance once produced normally by their body. Mental health has physical roots so I needn't be ashamed because my brain requires more serotonin than my body can produce. It's not a sign of weak character, it's just a chemical imbalance.
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Even if my anxiety is in fact a character weakness and I'm just not sorting it through like I should, so what? I can't live like that and I will take pills or whatever else it takes to avert a life not worth living. In fact I'm quite certain there's no burning Hell with fire and brimstone because I've experienced Hell and it was right here on earth.
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The famous artist August Rodin sculpted a piece named "The Thinker" based on Dante’s poem Inferno from The Divine Comedy (c. 1308–21). This sculpture was one of many figures based on characters, sculpted in various states of agony. Originally named "The Poet", it is a nod to the idea of Hell on earth, as the tormented figure sits crouched over, deep in worrisome thought. When placed above and peering down over his "The Gates of Hell", the scene is perfectly articulate: the gates of Hell are built by us here on earth, not by some far removed devil.
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I choose a block of marble and cutoff whatever I don't need.
Auguste Rodin
Our brain can be our worst enemy if we let it run amok, imagining and experiencing horrific scenarios over and over. Most of our imaginings are worse than what actually happens in real life, yet inside our body the chemical cascade is the same regardless. Our daily reality is simply what we experience, real or imagined. That's how nightmarish thoughts in a repetitive loop can become absolute Hell on
earth.
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Our ability to ruminate has advantageous evolutionary roots as our capacity to imagine and plan for differing future possibilities increases our chances of survival and reproduction. However when this urge goes too far, we become like Rodin's "The Thinker"- stuck in endless loops of dooms day thinking. This drive to over analyze persists today because more people have survived than died from this strange mental urge.
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Simply becoming aware of this tendency to ruminate, is the first step in learning to control our mental loops before they become ruts. I had to learn the hard way that:
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WE CONTROL OUR
THOUGHTS, AND THE
QUALITY OF OUR
THOUGHTS MATTER.
After a few weeks of taking medicine my body and mind stabilized allowing me to work on improving the quality of my thoughts and how to cut them off when starting to loop. My brain will always have these tendencies however I can choose how much time I spend worrying. That's the key to nipping it in the bud early.
My job now is to spread this precious lesson far and wide. In the beginning so much of it is absolutely preventable. Negative thought patterns become habitual when we ruminate, and habits are mostly unconscious unless we consciously choose to break the cycle. No one should ever have to go through Hell on earth when it's absolutely preventable. You just don't know...until you do.
