Still That Bitch
When I first started to come to terms with the fact that I wanted to share my journey, one of the determining factors was that whenever I searched things on Instagram like #breastcancerunder30 or #youngbreastcancer or even #breastcancer period the vast majority of the faces were white. Even when it was someone black, I noticed that they weren't as open with their journey as their white counterparts. Seeing this made me want to be very open with my journey. I haven't achieved what I set out to do but I have made some more observations when it comes to how people share their cancer journey on Instagram.
I have taken to searching certain hashtags on Instagram whenever I'm searching for the answer to something and want a more human answer, or I want help in making decisions and can't really rely on anyone in my life right now for that help or even sometimes just to see how others are going through the same thing I'm going through. However, I tend to notice that some people (read: most) cling to this personality of suffering and it's not something I resonate with at all.
Many people will talk about all of the things cancer and treatment steal from them and that's also something that doesn't resonate with me. Even though I went through fertility treatment to freeze my eggs as a precaution, I don't feel like cancer stole my ability to be a mom because I've never been 100% sure that being a mom is for me. I don't feel like cancer has stolen my life. I don't feel like cancer has stolen my personality. I don't feel like cancer has stolen my future. I don't feel like cancer has stolen my femininity. I don't even feel like cancer has stolen my breast. Cancer may have taken my ability to prepare elaborate meals or walk more than 10 minutes without breaking out in a sweat, but even that I know is temporary.
On top of me not feeling like or not allowing cancer to steal shit from me, cancer also hasn't turned me into a cry baby or made me cry any more than my normal. I see people sharing how they cry after or even during some sessions of chemotherapy. Or they cry when they decide what surgery they are going to have. Or they cry after surgery. Or they cry when they cut their hair. I had 2 cancer haircuts and I didn't cry after either. The first time I chose to do a tapered cut so that when my hair started falling out there wouldn't be much to fall and the second time, when I noticed there was no hair to the root and what was left was dead, I let my mom cut it all off. Then I went about my day as normal. I sent a picture of my baldy to some of the most important people in my life and that was it. There were no tears for my hair. I cried during my early days of knowing, but since then I haven't cried at all. At least not for anything cancer related. And that's not to say that crying is weak, it's definitely cathartic and probably the best way people know how to release during the insanity that is cancer. It just has not been something I cling to through all of this.
I try to really be authentic in sharing my journey and not sharing it through rose colored glasses, however besides the first 2 months of chemo being really really hard, everything else about it just is what it is and I'm not suffering or feeling woe is me at all. And oftentimes that stops me from sharing because when you look at others there's a lot of animosity and sadness and anger, sometimes there's even defeat and for the most part I don't feel those things. I feel gratitude. I feel questioning. I feel loved. I feel supported. I feel like this is just an essential part of my life's journey.
Don't get me wrong there are rough days for sure. Especially early on. But when I look at the breast cancer hashtags on Instagram, I feel like that space has been turned into a breeding ground for a personality of suffering. And make no mistake, I'm still that bitch.
