Breast Cancer Trauma and Self-Worth

Breast cancer trauma has deeply impacted my sense of self-worth. It even caused me to stop writing...and I was born to write.

I started this website in March 2012, with a blog post titled, "The Psychologist, The Mom, & Me." 

I wrote prolifically about things inspired by my life as I worked with clients in my private practice, became a bestselling author & popular speaker, worked to raise my 6 young children, and learned who "I" was and was striving to become.

I guess it's fitting that after a full decade of faithful writing, just over two years ago I fell away from it.

Why did I stop writing?

I've been asking myself this question for months, attempting to motivate, inspire, or even force myself to write and post something, anything. 

I wrote about my journey here for while...and I've shared everything very openly on Instagram & Facebook...but two years ago, it started to feel too hard to even try to write.

These past 4 1/2 years since my breast cancer diagnosis, I've struggled to do practically anything like I did “B.C.” (Before Cancer).

I've not only felt uninspired, with “nothing valuable to say;” I've felt unworthy, finding little to no value in what I have and have not been able to do.

I’ve struggled to see value in my minimized activities and social relationships, and above all, I’ve struggled to feel value in simply being who I am at this point in my life.

To put it bluntly: I've struggled with self-worth since my breast cancer diagnosis.

I've heard loved ones say: "You're not there when I need you." 

I've seen faces full of pity: "You don't look or seem like you used to."

At times, I've felt full of ineptitude: "I'm not capable or able."

At times, I've heard myself say: "I'm good for nothing."

In truth, I've often felt "good for nothing."

So often--as I've sat for months recovering from surgery after surgery, as I lay waiting for chemo to kill what it would in me, as I worked through physical rehab again and again, ever so slowly, with a body I hardly recognized in shape, scars, and ability, at times I've felt "good for nothing."

It's hard not to question "Who am I now?" when your body is stuck in a place you never imagined you'd have to be, for so long.

I used to ask clients struggling to differentiate the value of doing vs. being:

"If you were paralyzed from the neck down and all you could do was talk, would you still be of value?"

"Yes, of course," they'd easily answer,

"Then why do you feel you have to DO to be of value?" I'd pose.

I felt the power in that question; I, too, believed in the inherent value of each individual, regardless of ability in body, mind, or spirit.

But breast cancer put me to the test.

In more ways than I'd ever imagined, with more force than I'd thought possible, more times than I can count--breast cancer, and its lasting effects, has knocked me to the floor.

I've been put to the test physically.

Now going on 4 1/2 years of constant treatment, complications, treatment for complications, and now chronic illnesses and more  surgery, my body parts have been amputated, transplanted, damaged, repaired, and rearranged. I still don't know what my body will look, feel or be like, long-term.

I've been put to the test emotionally. 

My "active treatment" of chemo & now 15 surgeries has created layers upon layers of loss, grief, and trauma.

Depression, anger, grief, and especially PTSD have plagued me.

Past traumas have resurfaced like ghosts–the deaths of my two sisters-- Miki, at age 8 from kidney cancer, and Shannon, at age 31 from an overdose of acetaminophen and alcohol, later ruled a suicide--being the biggest.

The trauma of breast cancer triggered new connections to these and other traumatic losses and I'm left with daily grief-filled reminders of how much I’ve wanted them with me now.

I've been put to the test mentally.

As I've wrestled with old thoughts and beliefs--about my body, mind, spirit, and self, my mind has struggled in deep and profound new ways.

Facing my own mortality has been the biggest challenge of my life, and it's one that continues long after the cancer is "gone."

I've been put to the test socially.

Breast cancer teaches you who is and who is not there for you.

Friendships are sifted, and many slip away even as new relationships are formed, often with those I'd least expected to show up.

My family relationships have changed. Not being able or well enough to 'be there' in ways I previously could for my children has impacted them in various ways. My relationship with my husband has changed, as he's not only taken on many responsibilities that used to be mine, but also became my caregiver so many times.

And all of this has impacted my sense of self-worth.

It's no surprise that so much trauma would leave a mark on my sense of who I am and how I feel about myself.

I've been working on it in therapy since my diagnosis, and I've learned some powerful lessons that are helping me heal in all of the above mentioned areas.

AND...

Whenever I have another surgery & have to sit in a recliner for weeks and recover (I'm currently in my chair recovering from surgery 15!), or I'm diagnosed with a new chronic illness because of cancer (so far I've been diagnosed with 5), or I choose to undergo a new treatment (just 2 months ago I finished Mayo Clinic's intense Pain Rehab Center program), I can't help but begin to hear those questions related to self-worth again:

"How much of this is my fault?"

"If I'd made different choices, would I be dealing with all this now?"

"How much stress and pain will I keep heaping upon my family?"

Even though I know, logically, that it's not my fault and that I've made the best choice each step of the way, I can't help but FEEL, so often, like it is my fault, at least in part.

Yes, THIS is breast cancer, and life "after."

It's filled with a complex pile of physical, mental, social and emotional challenges, and it takes time, work and grace to sort through and begin to heal each one.

And I’m not the only one.

At our core, most survivors are shaken by this all-too-common diagnosis. 

Most of us get through treatment only to find we’re completely devastated, mentally and emotionally. 

Most of us feel traumatized by the relentless effects of treatments like surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, not to mention the lasting impact these things have on our hormones, mental health, energy, sleep, brain, and body.

And yes, most of us have to, at some point, face the inevitable identity crisis, wondering, "Where did I go?"

It's not something that can be fixed, or even mended overnight.

No.

But it is something that can be discovered, uncovered, and/or recovered over time, with a whole lot of work and grace.

I'm doing the work and feeling the grace once again.

And you can, too. 

To start, try my FREE "Self-Esteem vs. Self-Worth" mini course, or one of these articles on how to Build Self-Worth.

And stay tuned...because part 2 is coming--all about where to begin, what we can do, and how we can do it.

You are not alone, my friend. And neither am I.

And even more so: You are not to blame.

Now that I've started writing here again, it's my mission to help myself, and you, know and remember these truths, & perhaps guide us with some ways to heal, through the ups and downs of this crazy "life after breast cancer".

Questions? Comments? Leave a message below and let us know your thoughts and feelings.

Stay tuned for Part 2 & join my email list for updates!

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