MONSTERS UNDER THE BED

Just when I expected to start feeling better – physically in less distress and, mentally, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel – everything seemed to fall apart and I, instead, began to feel buried under an impossibly heavy pile of emotional debris.  That the debris consisted, essentially, of fear…no, sheer terror…made it seem that much more formidable.  I began to feel engulfed by an evil that is irrational and it sought to edge out all other feelings, including and especially, my most treasured sense of hope.  Since I consider myself that type of person who always makes lemonade, this new experience was terribly discouraging. I felt as though I had been stripped of my very Self and had been left irrational, weak, fearful and ineffective.  Truly, I felt helpless and as though I were sinking, by the day, deeper into some quagmire. I obsessed about the upcoming PET/CT scan in January, certain that it would reveal more  cancer.  I ruminated and bashed myself over the tube feedings, convincing myself that I was deteriorating from lack of substantial calories and nutrients and certain to die a painful death from malnutrition.  I read a few online posts (always a mistake!) from people who couldn’t eat solid foods months and months after the end of treatment and I became convinced that I was one of them and would probably never eat real, whole foods again.  These thoughts and feelings were so uncharacteristic of me that just merely observing them exacerbated my sense of alienation and doom.  Who was this crazy woman thinking these crazy thoughts?!

As it began to seem as though nothing about this unfamiliar state would change or, if it did, it would become worse, a flicker of what I could only identify as “common sense,” or rationality, emerged.  At first, this small sense of hope was really only a tiny spark but then, as I (coincidentally?) happened upon various inspirational writings or media-driven discussions that seemed to be advising me on how to process these difficult thoughts and feelings, I started to see a palpable light at the end of the tunnel and the panic actually began to subside.

This new mindset counseled me to approach what I had come to refer to as “crazy thinking” in several ways.  First (and I credit my guided meditation guru, Belleruth Naparstek, with this idea), I was to face the fears, looking at them head-on and acknowledging each and every nuance of them, no matter how wacky or how much I wanted to look away.  It was helpful, at this point, to ask the question: is this thought likely to be true or have a basis in reality?  Specifically, is it possible that my PET/CT would show cancer? Yes. Is it likely that it will? No.  The statistics, with my cancer’s profile and the specific treatments employed to eradicate it, showed a strong likelihood of an actual cure, even though refractory or failed cases do occur.  But the odds are, really and truly, overwhelmingly in favor of resolution.  This is also that case in the question of returning to the relatively normal eating of solid foods.  Although failure to get back to regular feedings does happen, it is relatively rare and certainly not expected. Rather, it is likely that I will, eventually, return to eating normally and having very few, if any, limitations.

Where did this train of thought lead me?  It has led me to a place that I, at first, couldn’t even imagine – a place of hope and increasing zest for life.  I suppose that it could be said that the awful fears that possessed me a week or so ago indicated that I was experiencing a sort of PTSD-like depression, but since I’ve had no prior experience with that emotional state, I am not certain that that is what it is/was.  But whatever it was, it came on suddenly and caused me to feel truly powerless.  It engulfed me and threatened to swallow me, sending me to the depths of hopelessness, despair and, most painfully, buried under a terrible, dark fear.  But then, as my past experiences have shown me, my higher power, or my God (or serendipity, if you wish), stepped in at the crucial moment and showed me a distant light, a flicker of hope.  And as soon as I grabbed that offering, I became flooded with this hope and knew that, no matter how things progress, I will be given the proper tools to handle the situation.  This isn’t to say that my fears are gone. They are not.  But thanks to much practice and encouragement from those wiser than I am, I can stop the “crazy thoughts” when they begin to threaten and just stay right in the immediate moment, refusing to entertain terrifying, unsubstantiated thoughts and examining only what  I know and feel in the NOW.  I am hopeful that I will continue in this vein, no matter what transpires over the next months or years.

So, just as in the case of a child’s vivid imaginings of monsters under the bed, the evil must be exposed and looked squarely in the eye, in order for it to lose its power.  I had to really sit with my fears, acknowledge them, and examine their strength before discovering that they really only have the power that I allow them to have. Having a regular meditation practice has been an enormous help in that I am familiar with facing uncomfortable emotions and not denying or hiding from them.  It also encourages me, over and over, to stay in the present moment and this practice is, truly, indispensable when attempting to disarm fears and other concocted demons.