It Might Be a Big Deal

I’m a big believer in the benefits of a good long cry. When stressful and upsetting things happen in my life, I always try to give myself the space to sob about it. Maybe it’s only for 5 or 10 minutes, but I think it makes a big difference. I think it enables me to bear whatever the situation is with a better handle on reality. It takes a lot of energy to hold those feelings down deep. If let it out, I can use that energy to do other things. That’s how I see it.

However, I haven’t really been crying all that much since my mastectomy. It just didn’t seem like a big deal. I wasn’t going to die. At no time during my month of diagnostics did it look like I might be going to die. The cancer is all gone. My chest hurts…but it will get better soon. I might not have a breast, but I’m tall and leggy with smooth skin and bright blue eyes. It seems silly to worry too much about my lack of cleavage when I’ve got so much else going for me in the “looks” department. I mean, really…it’s not such a big deal. I’m fine!

My wonderfully sweet and feisty friend D. called me last night and offered to just listen to me if I wanted to cry or rage or whatever about the whole thing. I told her it didn’t really feel like that big a deal. She’s really smart. I’m really smart. We both know it’s been a big deal! I know it in my head, I just can’t seem to feel it.

So between the two of us, we decided that for 12 minutes I would pretend that maybe it was a big deal. I sat in front of the full length mirror in my guest room and took off my pajama top. I looked at the new reality of my body. I looked at the tape and dried blood still stuck to my incision site. I asked myself how I would feel if this had been a traumatic, terrifying, life-changing event that would affect me forever. I asked myself how I would feel if the loss of my breast made some kind of difference in how I felt about my body. I asked myself how I would feel if I had to choose between taking semi-toxic medicine every day for the rest of my life or worrying that my cancer might come back any moment.

My head opened up like a floodgate. I just howled and water streamed down my face from my eyes and nose. This might not sound like a wonderful thing, but it really was. I wasn’t sobbing and heaving and struggling to get control of myself. I just felt wonderfully OPEN. I felt like the top of my head had been screwed off and all this yucky stuff that had been swirling around inside me was just evaporating out of my body. After my twelve minutes were up…I felt SO much better.

D. and I wrapped up our conversation. I put my pajama top back on and got in bed. For the first night in 3 days (since my last caring house-guest left) I didn't lie awake for hours in the dark. I went right to sleep.

If you don’t agree with me about the value of a good cry, or letting your feelings out in general, I’m not going to argue with you. We all find what works in life. However, maybe you are like me. Maybe you believe that getting them OUT makes sense. Maybe you’ll have something similar going on in your life someday, or maybe you do right now. Maybe in your head you know it’s a big fat ugly thing that’s happening, but you are so determined to get through it with out being traumatized, that you are not able to feel how scary or awful it is. If so, you are the reason I took the time to write this blog entry today.

Let me gently and lovingly encourage you to take just a minute (or 12) and just pretend that what you are going through is a big deal. Set a timer, and when it dings, you can stop pretending and remember the truth. You are a big, strong, capable, grown-up person who, with the help of loving friends and family, can handle this challenging time with grace and strength and creativity. And, so am I.