Work in Progress

Today was the first time I had been to a therapist in my adult life. I was so nervous. The last time I had spoken to a therapist was when I was in middle school. My Dad was ill and hospitalized on and off for several months (which I didn’t fully comprehend at the time) and I began experiencing anxiety and severe abdominal pain. It was believed at the time, by my physicians, that I was not handling the situation well with my father and was acting out with my pleads of abdominal pain.

It wasn’t until cheerleading tryouts my freshman year at Chantilly High School that I collapsed with a 3.5 pound ruptured ovarian cyst the size of a small grapefruit. I know that the retelling of this story will pain my family, especially my mother, since she feels a sense of guilt for what happened, but never in my life did I blame her. My family was doing the best they could with the information they were given, and time and time again, I was brushed aside by my physicians and told that it was all in my head. I became ashamed of feeling sick and I learned to bury my emotions.

Ovarian cyst or not, I know I had issues with my father becoming ill. (Actually, I always had anxiety issues or a kind of nervous/excitable characteristic. I remember the night before our annual beach trip I would be up all night with butterflies and an upset stomach because I was so excited.) Up until my father’s illness, things were easy. The normalcy and consistency of my foundation was cracked, but my family made it out alive and life went on.

Nancy Whiteley, LPC met me in the waiting room of her practice in Reston, Virginia. She ushered me up the stairs to her office filled with books on phobias, paranoia and all other mental illnesses you can imagine. The room was filled with sunlight and an array of plush couches and chairs. We jumped right in and I took her on a journey through my whirlwind of traumas: my dad’s illness, ovarian cyst rupture, a broken engagement, anxiety diagnosis, severe IBS, a stage-III breast cancer diagnosis and, most recently, the stage-IV breast cancer diagnosis of one of my best friends

Whiteley concluded from her first impression of me, that I am incredibly resilient, intelligent and have coped very well to this point. She reassured me that the traumas I have endured are more than any normal person should ever have to and that I'm not going to be "fixed" ... this is all normal to feel the sadness and grief I do.

She said she can't teach me any techniques or tactics because I am already doing them. I have an ability to bury my emotions and mask my feelings and anxiety in order to maintain normalcy, because I feel shameful. This technique has worked until now, but I'm running out of room to bury all these feelings.

Whiteley explained that I need to peel back the layers and expose myself to the emotions I buried. I did not allow myself to mourn certain traumas in my life and now as new traumas arise, I am reliving ALL of the traumas at the same time. I told her just the thought of working back through old scars scares me. Whiteley told me it wasn't going to be easy to work through the emotional pain, but that she would help me navigate those emotions.

There is no doubt that I am suffering from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which is common for cancer survivors. I was so focused on getting well and the baby steps of my process during my cancer treatment that I didn’t allow myself to sit long with any of the emotions. They are now surfacing with Jenn’s diagnosis of stage-IV triple negative breast cancer. Whiteley made a point to tell me that she will not pretend to know what breast cancer was like for me. This may sound strange, but I have been hesitant to talk to a therapist for the past four years because I didn’t believe anyone could ever fully grasp how I was feeling without being a cancer survivor also. So the fact that she came out and made this statement was incredibly reassuring to me. I needed to hear that.

She said, "You have been too strong for too long. Therapy is a sign of strength, not weakness." It was very hard for me to open up to someone like that. I didn't like it, but I know I needed to do it. Over time I think it will become easier.

“We are all works in progress, darlin’, most just don’t know it.” - my dear friend, Cynthia