Two years on... learning to live with it

A year ago from now, I wasn't in a good place.

Two years ago, I'd just received that fateful letter and had no idea what kind of nightmare was hurtling towards me. Fast forward twelve months to last July, and I'd sunk into a very low place mentally which was just as traumatic as the diagnosis and surgery itself.

I did start to feel much better in October/November last year, but it was a slow and sometimes frustrating process. In October, I blogged about how I shouldn't be feeling guilty about my state of mind and also berated myself for not being more open with people about what I was going through. Ironically, now that my mind is clearer, I can see that I still felt guilty and was trying to justify myself to... myself. I still felt angry that people were skirting around the impact of my diagnosis and surgery even though I desperately needed to talk about it, and I shifted that anger onto myself for not being more honest about my feelings. My mood deteriorated in December for a number of reasons, so 2017 finished just as negatively as it had begun.

I'm pleased to report that, so far, 2018 has been a lot better than the previous two years. It had a rocky start as I was still trying to get through my low patch, but I managed to turn things around. I forced myself into a few situations I didn't think I could handle, and I did handle them. This made me feel stronger and made me realise that I'm more determined and resilient than I give myself credit for.

I'm not going to pretend everything is brilliant all the time. I still have days where I want to scream, cry, withdraw, or all three at once. I had an unexpected 'I hate everything this cancer has done to me' meltdown as recently as four days ago, all because I had a call from the hospital about yet another appointment I need to arrange. Some triggers still hit me like a punch in the stomach, particularly when I'm not expecting them, and I think they always will. However, on a 'good' day, those triggers aren't as all-consuming as they used to be and I'm able to take a deep breath and try to focus on something else.


I can pinpoint a few things that have helped me to feel better over the last few months:

• Spending time with Jessie, my beautiful Corgi puppy. She makes me smile every day and makes everything seem a little bit better with one wag of her tail. 
• I started a new job in March and I absolutely love it. Although leaving the place where I'd worked for ten years was scary, it was 100% the right decision for me and gave me the fresh start I needed. 
• I've been trying really hard to practice mindfulness. I've let this slip over the last couple of months so need to pick it back again, but I think it's made me more aware of my downward thought spirals and how to combat them.  
• Even though the funding for my support group abruptly came to an end a few months ago, I'm still in touch with the lovely ladies I met through the group. Speaking to people who 'get it' makes all the difference in the world. 
• As I mentioned earlier, I've forced myself out of my comfort zone and pushed myself into situations I know I wouldn't have been able to handle last year. Even though these situations were difficult at the time, they're enabling me to slowly build up that 'milestone' bank. 

Having said all that, some things are still very distressing and I suspect they always will be. I now have check ups at the hospital every 6 months rather than every 3 months, and I think people are starting to see them as a formality as time goes on. This obviously isn't the case for me. My anxiety levels still peak a few weeks before each appointment and stay high afterwards if I've got to wait for any kind of result. Also, this might sound incredibly ungrateful, but being given the 'all clear' at these appointments is quite difficult to celebrate. Cancer has taken something irreplaceable from me and all the all clears in the world won't bring it back. But on the plus side, those good results do give me a sense of relief to cling on to until the next appointment looms. 

Every twinge, ache or slight abnormality makes my heart feel as if it's beating out of my chest. I suffered with health anxiety for years before my diagnosis, but this is on another level. I no longer have that tiny voice of reason telling me that it's very unlikely to happen to me, because it HAS happened to me. And as I've said in a previous post, that uncontrollable fear that 'it's back' is hideous. I had an MRI scan after my last check-up because the doctor was slightly concerned about one of my symptoms, and I nearly drove myself mad during the three-week wait for results. I no longer believe that 'no news is good news' as my initial diagnosis took so long to be confirmed, so I morphed into a massive bag of nerves as time went on. Thankfully, the MRI scan showed no evidence of recurrence so I can breathe easily until the next ache or pain comes along. 

Taking the good and bad into consideration, I do feel so much better than I felt this time last year (and two years ago, for that matter). I've worked really hard on helping myself as much as I can, and I do feel as if I'm making slow progress even if it is a tough slog at times.

I finished last July's blog post with a very stark statement: 'Cancer may have left my body ten months ago, but it will never ever leave my life.' Although that statement is still true and will always be true, I do feel as if, one day, I'll be able to learn to live with it. 

Learning to appreciate the present moment

I used to think mindfulness was a load of mumbo-jumbo. It was one of those things I thought might be a nice concept for other people but would never work for me. However, now that I've got a better understanding of what mindfulness is and what it's trying to achieve, I feel as if it could make a huge difference if I give it enough of a chance.

I started seeing a counsellor from Macmillan last summer during a very low point. It was the one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and I was struggling. I was dreading the sessions because I didn't feel strong enough to talk about and delve into all my feelings, but these sessions were very different to the previous counselling I'd experienced and were based on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.

The counsellor focused on finding ways to help me to live life after cancer in a meaningful way and to enjoy what matters to me, rather than dredging up the past. As part of these sessions, she encouraged me to look at mindfulness in a completely different light. She also referred me to a few group sessions run by Macmillan on 'Living with Uncertainty' which further helped to quash my skepticism about the topic.

Let's start by talking about what mindfulness ISN'T (and what I used to think it was).

- Mindfulness isn't about trying to stop, block or change your thoughts.
- Mindfulness isn't about trying to control your thoughts and feelings.
- Mindfulness doesn't have to take up loads of your time.
- Mindfulness is nothing to do with relaxation.

Mindfulness is all about anchoring yourself in the present moment. If you're anything like me, your brain spends an awful lot of time in the past and even more time in the future. There have been times when I've got to work and can't remember anything about my drive to the office, or when I've eaten a chocolate bar and haven't got a clue what it tasted like. I hardly ever focus on the present moment because my brain is always frantically flitting between the past and the future. I'd never thought about it in that way before, but it means I'm missing out on all the pleasurable things the present moment might have to offer.

Crucially, mindfulness isn't about stopping those thoughts about the past, the future and everything in between. If it was, no one would be able to do it. As much as we'd all love to, we can't control our thoughts and feelings. Mindfulness is about acknowledging that your thoughts have drifted, noticing where you've drifted off to, and bringing yourself back to the present moment (if you want to).

Different things work for different people when it comes to mindfulness. I find that focusing on my breathing helps to bring me back to the present moment, but others find that focusing on sound,  smell or taste is more effective. Whenever I feel myself spiralling off into an anxiety chasm which won't end well for me or for anyone else, I'm trying really hard to take a few deep breaths and focus on my breathing. How it feels, how it sounds, how my lungs expand and contract.

I'm getting a little better at realising when I'm about to spiral, rather than only noticing when I've wasted half an hour and thought about every possible worst case scenario for the next twenty years. However, I've got a long way to go and I need to make sure I persevere with it and try to bring myself back to the present moment more and more often.

On that note, the great thing about this simple 'grounding' method is that you can do it anytime and anywhere. You can do it at your desk in work, on the sofa while you're drinking your hot chocolate, on your daily commute, while you're eating out, or while you're in bed trying to get to sleep. It only needs to take twenty seconds, and the more you do it the more it'll become second nature.

Along with trying to be more 'mindful', I'm finding that writing everything down helps me to process my thoughts and to get to grips with why I'm experiencing such strong feelings. To help with this, I've got a 'thought journal' where I write down why I'm anxious, angry, sad etc when it all gets too much. I find that writing down my thoughts takes some of the power out of them, and I also feel as if I've got a lot out of my system when I sit and pour my brain out on paper for half an hour.

I also bought this daily journal from Next a few weeks ago and it's helping me to reflect on each day, rather than only reflecting when I remember to do so or when I'm in the right headspace. It's very easy to go to bed thinking that you've had a terrible day and everything is awful and you're rubbish at everything, when actually there will most likely have been a positive glimmer in there somewhere.

Even if the only good thing you can think of is the nice baguette you had for lunch or a smile from a random passer-by, make sure you write it down! I also love the 'three things I'm grateful for today' section as I don't think any of us are ever appreciative enough about what we've actually got. My 'good things' and 'things I'm grateful for' entries are often very simple, and it's making me realise how important it is to appreciate those little things in life and to fill your time with what matters most to you.

This journal is helping me to think about why I might have felt a particular way on a particular day, rather than just accepting it. I'm starting to recognise triggers for certain moods which might eventually mean I can avoid them happening so often if I work hard on changing my mindset. I do try to put the 'what I'll do differently tomorrow' pledges into practice, and if I completely forget about them I move them over to the next day's entry to give myself another chance.

Although I tend to frantically say 'I haven't got time!' when it comes to any kind of self help or self improvement, I'm learning that self reflection is important and can teach you a lot about yourself. And believe it or not (and I'd never have believed this myself six months ago), it can help to make a bad day very very slightly better. I've never said 'I haven't got time' when it comes to worrying about anything and everything, so why should making time for self reflection and/or improvement be so difficult? If I can easily waste half an hour of my energy wading through nightmare scenarios that might never happen, it makes sense to try to put that time to better use.

Have you tried any of these techniques to try to appreciate the 'present moment'? Have you got any more tips for me? Let me know!