Why is it so hard for people to ask others for help
when they need it? We try to tell ourselves that we are fine and that
everything will be ok and things will pass even when we are not sure if that is
true.
There were times during my cancer treatment when I knew that I
needed someone to talk to and listen to what scared me. I needed someone who
would not tell me that things would be fine and that I was strong and would
push through everything. I needed someone who would allow me to be scared
rather than tell me that I just needed to be strong and think positively. But I
was unwilling to admit that I needed that help. It probably would have been
beneficial for me to seek someone like a counselor to talk to, but for some
reason I just could not accept that I needed that type of help.
Maybe it was because, as a cancer patient, I was already being
looked at differently by all my friends and family members that I felt like I
did not need one more person to give me that cancer patient look.
If we know we are in a state of depression, or just not feeling
like ourselves, why are we afraid to acknowledge that feeling? Why are we more
willing to let ourselves feel crummy instead of wanting to do something about
our mood so that we feel more like ourselves than different and foreign?
Why is it so hard to ask for help when it is needed, especially
when it revolves around mental health? What is wrong with showing fear? Uncertainty?
Sadness? Anger? All those emotions that wash over people at any point in their
life can intensify once they are exposed to the world revolved around treating
cancer.
The person with cancer often gets overlooked and the main
questions end up being asked about how the treatment and procedures are going
rather than how you, as a person, are handling everything emotionally and
mentally.
People tend to push for you to stay positive all the time, to
keep your chin high, enforce the fact that you are strong and can get through
this difficult time. As long as you stay positive you will make it through
everything.
Why can I not scream out in anger when my body reacts to a drug
and makes me itch like mad? Why is it wrong for me to be angry that my life has
been interrupted by something that could kill me and prevent me from doing all
the things that I grew up wanting to accomplish? Is it really normal for
someone to be positive at every moment even after all the side effects from the
chemotherapy and various drugs that accompanied the cocktail has made the body
feel foreign to the owner?
Everything revolves around cancer, tests, treatments,
procedures, etc. rather than the actual person.
It took me a long time to realize that it is OK to cry. That it
does not make you less of a person for feeling some sort of emotion and allowing
that to show on your face.
Life in general is not easy, it is not suppose to be, otherwise
we would always get what we wanted and nothing would make us really work for
those extra things we want and enjoy in life, right? Also, it would probably be a little boring and I do not like
boring. Instead I enjoy challenges and face them with as much strength and
determination I posses. However, I never wanted something as challenging as
cancer, nor would I have ever expected it to happen.
Maybe sometimes boring is good.
Growing up I was not one to cry in front of others. When I got
upset and felt the urge of tears wanting to show my true feelings I would run
away to be alone, secluding myself to deal with my feelings myself, rather than
expressing them out loud. I thought that crying would make me look like a baby
or a wimp and I was always trying to be a grown up and strong like my mom.
Since I only saw my mom cry on rare occasions, such as when we
lost a beloved mare while she foaling, or when someone passed away, I assumed
that was the only time worth crying. Of course there have been a few times in
my 29 years on this planet where I have been super frustrated and stressed past
my max where I broke down and did not care who was around me. But most of the
time I would just try to take everything in with a positive attitude and let
the world know that I was fine with whatever may come.
Yet, once I saw my mom enter my ER suite, and by suite I mean a
curtained off area, crying I knew something more than just a pinched nerve was
causing all the pain in my leg. But nothing prepared me for what I was to learn
in the next 24 hours.
(For more information, please refer back to a previous post,
Finding Out I had Cancer)
I knew that in order to live I would need to start chemotherapy
right away, per doctor’s orders, so I obviously agreed, as did Mom, and we
started right away. Also, I was so doped up that I could have agreed for them to
harvest all my organs. Thus, it was a good thing my mom was there to make sure
everything went the way it should.
Even after finding out that I had cancer I did not let myself
cry. The only time I would cry was when I was in an extreme amount of pain. Maybe
part of the reason was because I had no idea what was in store for me, because
I also had no idea what leukemia was or how it was treated or anything about
chemotherapy. But I did know that I needed to be strong and in various ways. I
needed to have the strength of mind and my attitude to know that I could make
it through the tough times ahead and not give up even in the rough
periods.
However, after several months in and out of the hospital,
various complications from the drugs, zero energy and not being able to spend
time with family and friends around the holidays made me so mad. During one of
my short stays at home between consolidation treatments we had a family
gathering with my grandma. This was just after being released from the hospital
after a spinal tap, which did not heal right and I was left feeling absolutely
miserable and unable to stand or sit up without being sick to my stomach with a
pounding headache. I could not enjoy my time with my family at the dining
table. Instead I had to remove myself and lay back down on the couch, which
really bugged me.
At that point I just let it go and broke down. I was so sick of
everything. Never feeling well, never having any energy to do anything, always
feeling like I needed someone around me rather than being my independent self
and just not knowing what to do with myself physically, emotionally, and
mentally.
I felt better after releasing this emotion that I tried so hard
to keep inside and away from others. All this energy that I spent to try to
keep my emotions in tact just made everything more difficult. It was hard to
try to stay positive about the whole situation when I was bottling up so much of everything.
Why did I feel the need to keep everything bottled up? Why could
there not have been someone who would come in and visit with me while staying
in the hospital to talk or listen to my concerns and feelings? Isn't mental health just as important in the battle as the drugs being given?
I feel that with every diagnosis and every treatment protocol
another step should be added to the process. Finding a professional who can
speak with individuals dealing with various situations so that they do not feel
so alone, so they can work through their thoughts and emotions and try to get a
feeling of control back in their life. Just because someone says that they are dealing with everything fine and seem to be handling things with ease does not mean that they are not falling apart inside.
Here is a thought for parting. One of the things I noticed when being admitted to the hospital was that they always asked me what religion I was and if I would like a chaplain to visit. Even upon saying no the question would come up again later or a chaplain would eventually stop by my room. Why is a chaplain easy to provide, even when unwanted, but a counselor, therapist, psychologist, etc., is not?
