Why am I Still Crying?

/ Jennifer

 

crying

I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore
I don’t know how I’m meant to feel anymore
When do you think it will all become clear
And I’ll be taken over by the fear
-Lily Allen, “The Fear”

Today I had a followup appointment with my surgeon. The meeting went well–he said everything was healing up nicely and he went over my pathology report again, reiterating what great news it contained. All in all, pretty darn good.

So, why did I spend half the drive home crying?

I should be really happy right now. Yes, I’m still in some pretty wicked pain, and my chest is a hot mess, but that will all eventually change. I’m “cancer-free;” I should be ecstatic, right? I certainly shouldn’t be boo-hooing in the car.

And yet, here I am. My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go from being the cancer patient back to a regular person. I’m too afraid of recurrence to let my guard down. And every time I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror, I’m taken aback–the mind’s eye vision of myself doesn’t fit how I actually look with my barely-there growing-in hair, pale skin and flat chest.

And even nuttier, I’m actually kind of sad that my time with my doctors is starting to wind down. I’ve grown kind of attached to these people, having seen them so much the past few months. Not to mention the fact that they literally saved my life.

I’ve heard people say that the treatment of cancer is hard, but figuring out life after treatment can be just as difficult. I always used to think that sounded kind of weird, but now I’m starting to understand what they were saying.

I don’t know how to proceed. I’m not sure how to process all of this. I don’t know how to be me anymore.

There’s a flyer in my oncologist’s office called “Finding Your New Normal.” I guess that’s what I have to do now. I won’t ever be able to go back to the old me.

 

 

14 thoughts on “Why am I Still Crying?”

  1. I went through precisely what you’re going through. Some of it I attributed to the after-effects of chemo and the diminishing hormones in my body due to treatment. And some of it is that life ZAP! changed dramatically. For a while, I redirected my blog and interviewed cancer survivors I’d met through treatment or workshops like the one you’ve mentioned and wrote about how they made it through, what they did, what books they read, etc. It helped a bit. I did a New Normal workshop and it was fabulous. Hope you find the same. All I can say, is the only way out is through and you WILL make it, although there will be tears along the way. There will be laughter as well. May your next landing be a soft one!

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  3. Exactly. You can’t. I understand the Dr thing. To have them there, the good ones, and the nurse’s you depended on, I miss them too. I think you just have to accept what’s present and try to forget what was. Snyder it’s extremely hard and doesn’t work every minute of the day. So cry as much as you want, it’s therapeutic! And give yourself and your body time. I hear you, and wish the best for you.💞

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  5. I’ve been thinking lately that the post treatment emotional fallout is a bit like having your roof leak – deferred maintenance. Treatment takes up all available brain space, and dealing with the physicality of it erodes your resilience. So when it comes to a shuddering stop, all the deferred emotions come pouring forth… Be gentle with your self, luckily tears do not require a reason, but perhaps they are because your body is mourning and healing.
    Xo iris

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    • That is such a good analogy. I certainly shed my fair share of tears during the treatment process, but I was so consumed with the task at hand, too. To not have that is a strange feeling.

      Thank you for your kind words!

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  6. I think emotions come in waves and when there is a big wave tears show up. I had to give up the idea that crying was a weakness. My tears just show up when they do, I used to only try to cry in the shower, but could never get there in time. So let them flow.

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  7. I cannot begin to imagine what you’re feeling … maybe it’s an after effect of this incredibly tough journey you’ve been on. Even though you shed tears throughout your treatment, these tears are different, a release perhaps of all that you’ve been holding in order to push through and put on a brave face. Everything happened so fast. It was a whirlwind and a lot to process. It may be feeling surreal, unimaginable? Even though these past few months have been absolutely awful, it makes sense to me that you’d be grieving still. Take your time, cry as hard and often as you like, let it all out girl. Xoxoxo. 💕

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