Dear Sugar,
I’m twenty-nine and dating a man that I adore; we’re planning to move in together soon. I have a stable job that I hate, but I hope that I’ll one day find something I enjoy. I have family and friends and hobbies and interests and love. So much love. And I’m desperately afraid that I’m going to have cancer.
I’m terrified that sooner or later, I’ll be diagnosed. My mother had breast cancer when I was in college. She survived hers, but in some ways, she didn’t. It broke her, Sugar. My father died of liver cancer when I was in high school—he was never lucky enough to be counted “a survivor.” My grandmother had a brain tumor when I was a newborn; she didn’t live to see my first birthday. As much as I take care of my health, as much as I try to be careful, I have this niggling doubt that my genes are setting me up for failure.
I know you can’t tell me whether or not I will have cancer, and I know you can’t tell me when. But what I’m struggling with—what I need help figuring out—is how to make the decisions in my life while keeping this possibility in mind. You know the decisions I mean: The Big Ones.
How do I decide whether or not to get married? How do I look in to the face of this man I adore and explain to him what he might have to go through if I am diagnosed? And worse, if I don’t make it? I’ve already decided not to have children. How can I saddle a child with something that I don’t even think I can face myself? How do I plan for the future when there may be no future to plan for? They say “live your life to the fullest because there may be no tomorrow,” but what about the consequences of “no tomorrow” on the people that you love? How do I prepare them for what I might have to go through? How do I prepare myself?
Scared of the Future
Dear Scared of the Future,
There’s a crazy lady living in your head. I hope you’ll be comforted to hear that you’re not alone. Most of us have an invisible inner terrible someone who says all sorts of nutty stuff that has no basis in truth.
Sometimes when I’m all pretzeled up inside and my own crazy lady is nattering on, I’ll stop and wonder where she got her information. I’ll ask her to reveal her source. I’ll demand some proof. Did her notions come from actual facts based in ration and reason or did she/I dredge them up from the hell pit that burns like a perpetual fire at the bottom of my needy, selfish, famished little soul?
Is there credible evidence that my friends secretly don’t like me very much or were they all simply deep in conversation when I walked into the room and it took them a beat to say hello? Was the acquaintance who said, with class sizes that big, I’d never send my son to public school, actually saying that I was a second-rate mother, recklessly destroying my children because there are thirty kids in their classes, or was she simply sharing her own complex parenting decisions with me? When I receive letters from people who disagree passionately with a particular piece of advice I’ve given in this column is it true that it would be absolutely impossible for every reader to agree with me on every point or that I’m a stupid piece of know-nothing shit who should never write again?
If you asked me to draw a picture of myself I’d draw two. One would be a portrait of a happy, self-confident, regular-looking woman and the other would be a close-up of a giant gaping mouth that’s ravenous for love. Many days I have to silently say to myself: It’s okay. You are loved. You are loved even if some people don’t love you. Even if some people hate you. You are okay even if sometimes you feel slighted by your friends or you sent your kids to school someplace that someone else would not send her kid or you wrote something that riled up a bunch of people.
I have to cut the crazy lady to the quick rather often. Over the years, my emotional well-being has depended on it. If I let her get the upper hand my life would be smaller, stupider, squatter, sadder.
So will yours if you let it, sweet pea.
You have my deepest sympathy and my most sincere understanding, but you’re not thinking clearly on this. You’re granting the crazy lady way too much power. Your sorrow and fear has clouded your ability to be reasonable about your mortality. And if you continue in this vein it’s going to rob you of the life you deserve—the one in which your invisible inner terrible someone finally shuts her trap.
You do not need to look into your lover’s eyes and “explain to him what he might have to go through” should you be diagnosed with cancer. Tell him about your family’s experiences with cancer and about how you made it through those difficult times. Share your fears with him, and your grief. But don’t make the illogical line from your relatives’ real illnesses to your nonexistent one. Only the crazy lady is pretty convinced you’ll get cancer and die young. All the rest of us are entirely in the dark. Yes, you need to be aware of your risks and monitor your health, but do so while remembering that in most cases a genetic history of any given disease is only one predictor of your own likelihood of getting it.
Any of us could die any day of any number of causes. Would you expect your partner to explain what you might have to go through should he die in a car accident, of heart failure, or by drowning? Those are things that could happen too. You are a mortal being like every human and June bug, like every black bear and salmon. We’re all going to die, but only some of us are going to die tomorrow or next year or in the next half century. And, by and large, we don’t know which of us it will be when and of what.
That mystery is not the curse of our existence; it’s the wonder. It’s what people are talking about when they talk about the circle of life that we’re all part of whether we sign up to be or not—the living, the dead, those being born right this moment, and the others who are fading out. Attempting to position yourself outside the circle isn’t going to save you from anything. It isn’t going to keep you from your grief or protect those you love from theirs when you’re gone. It isn’t going to extend your life or shorten it. Whatever the crazy lady whispered in your ear was wrong.
You’re here. So be here, dear one. You’re okay with us for now.
Yours,
Sugar
47 responses
Amazing, as always. My inner crazy lady has been shrieking up a storm over the last few months. This was a helpful reminder to shut her up. Thank you!
I loved your advice on this one, Sugar. I’d only add that if Scared of the Future really is that scared, she might consider genetic counseling to help put her mind at ease.
THIS is exactly what I needed to hear today, yesterday, and probably tomorrow.
Oh God, Sugar, I needed this one.
I am constantly terrified that I am going to die young, somehow, having never achieved what I want to. It paralyses me. For years it stopped me writing.
But it’s OK. It really is.
Sugar. You are a marvel.
Oh, Sugar… thank you <3
Sugar, the crazy person you describe and the fear of mortality shared by the writer is something I completely understand, 100%. But when I read the line “only some of us are going to die tomorrow†my heart beat faster, my breathing quickened, and my head grew cloudy from nerves. I can’t even bear thinking about such my imminent death (or my sister’s, my mom’s, my boyfriend’s…). It has kept me awake at night (and therefore my boyfriend) and that panic can stop me from doing what I am doing. I wish I could afford counseling to work through it; instead I go through days every couple of months of this terror.
I love the new column, and as an inveterate worrier, I really love it and take it to heart.
This is going to seem like a nit-picky thing, and it is also really hard to change after a lifetime of habit, but . . . can you think about changing the phrase from “car accident” to “car crash” or “collision?” Not here, in your actual published piece, but in your usage in the future. Accident implies that no one or nothing is to blame, and it is a really misleading way to talk about the damage motorists can cause. Sorry, I work in transportation and I try to spread a little awareness when I can.
I, too, have this fear in the back of my head. One step I took, although, not foolproof, was genetic testing. It was absolutely scary to face my mortality at 29, but I felt like I was confronting that on my own terms. There are programs that sponsor free testing (mine was in sf), too. After losing so many loved ones to disease and accident I struggle not to shut down and shut people out, too. Thank you for the reminder to keep living to the fullest, sweet Sugar.
Scared, I hope I’m not telling you something you already know, but I implore you, if you haven’t, to speak with a genetic counselor about these issues. (You can find one in your area here, if you don’t know where to start looking: http://www.nsgc.org/FindaGeneticCounselor/tabid/64/Default.aspx) There are hereditary cancer syndromes, some of which have increased incidence in people of certain ethnic backgrounds. Organizations like FORCE and Bright Pink and many, MANY others are devoted specifically to supporting people, especially young people, who may be at increased risk of developing cancer. There are also ways of having children that work around passing on a cancer susceptibility genetic mutation (PGD, or preimplantation genetic diagnosis, being the big one).
If you’re scared of knowing for certain, or if you’re just not sure, I’d STRONGLY recommend Joanna Rudnick’s documentary “In the Family” (http://inthefamily.kartemquin.com/), which follows a young Ashkenazi Jewish woman who finds herself diagnosed with mutations in her BRCA genes (which gives her a lifetime risk of 87% of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer), and who talks to a number of other women from all walks who have made decisions about how to deal with their diagnosis.
Sugar, family health history is a very strong indicator of whether an individual should examine their own risk for a disease. Yes, we don’t know when or how any of us will die, and being present and living is wonderful advice, but there are other paths too. It’s not just senseless fear. Scared, I hope that you do what’s right for you, and that you can find peace. Much love.
I absolutely, wholeheartedly love this. My inner crazy lady says I’ll never make a difference; I’ll never get married; I’ll never be successful by anyone else’s terms; I’ll never be old AND beautiful; I’ll never be truly popular; I’ll never, I’ll never, I’ll never. And slowly I’ve decided that, not only don’t I care what I she says (and think it doesn’t always or ever have a factual basis), I also don’t think that I want any of those things for the sake of having them. I want to be an empathetic person whose drawn to finding a way to end humans’ suffering in some way, not “to make a difference”; I want love that rattles me to my core and lasts forever, not “to get married”; I want to live up to my potential, not to live up to someone else’s definition of success; I want to love myself when I look in the mirror, not to be outwardly beautiful when I’m older; and I want to be well-loved, not popular. The goal is to focus on our motives and our heart’s truest desires.
So, I think you’re right to say to her “don’t worry that you’re going to die — LIVE!” Because what good is living forever if you never enjoy it because every hour of every day you’re worried that it’s going to end? And, most importantly, why is it that Scared of the Future is so scared? I’d venture a guess that it has little to do with death or fear of it but, instead, with wanting to feel safe and secure and fearing that she will inflict on others the abandonment she experienced. And that is where your advice comes in and is most poignant: that fear isn’t based on fact; if it was, it wouldn’t be named fear.
My BIL buried his best friend’s wife today. She had a valiant fight with cancer having it hit her at 21 but finally succumbed after 10 years. Her husband, boyfriend at the time of her diagnosis, always kept their love as the most important thing in their lives. When he proposed she said he was crazy to take her on but he said, “I love you and want to spend every moment I can with you.” She tried to break up with him “to save him from himself” but he never gave up on her. She went out of this world with all the love he was able to give her, she went out having lived rather than curling up in a ball and giving up.
This is something I will carry with me always.
Slap that crazy lady in your head silly. LIVE the life you have and grab hold of every day with joy and hope Scared of the Future!! *hugs*
OMG Sugar, I think the crazy lady that lives in your head is like BFFs with the crazy lady who lives in my head. She is constantly telling me how intolerable I am to be around and how everyone dislikes me and thinks I am super weird. (Should I have said XYZ instead of ABC, are they going to think I’m rude now? OMG STFU LADY.)
I just started doing this online program called mood gym to help me think about my anxiety and other issues. (It’s based on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. http://moodgym.anu.edu.au/welcome) It’s free, and so far it is good, I’m not really extremely messed up according to any of the surveys, but it can’t hurt right?
I love how I can take your specific response to a specific problem and make it my own… My crazy lady screeches about far more than just mortality. If I give her too much leeway in any part of life, she’ll make me miserable!
Thanks Sugar!
Scared,
We are all born with a genetic inheritance. Most parts of the genome are handy and cool, such as those that let us sleep for long hours at a stretch, synthesize vital proteins or ensure that our noses usually end up on our faces.
As others point out, genetic testing is available. You must decide if your fear would be multiplied by knowing or not knowing what disease markers you carry. The only way to get there from here is through counseling.
And if you died tomorrow in a car crash, would your worry have served you or kept you from living your best life?
This is a perfect description of my life. I tend to call the crazy nutty lady a few other terms, mostly “the darkness” or “bad Cara”, but that’s pretty much a perfect summation of what my mind is like. And I needed to hear about how to shut her up recently, especially today when she is screeching all sorts of travel-related worries at me. Thank you for writing this. I think I will re-read it often over the next 36 hours to remind myself that she has no right to say these things to me, to make me freak out for no good reason.
What a great piece. I agree with all of the advice. I would also like to add an anecdote (as in: I am just one case, it’s not science or statistic, but often anecdote can be a powerful source of comfort). It’s true that it’s important and responsible to be tested for many things, including some types of cancer. But sometimes cancer happens when the genetic history is NOT there and the risk factors are not either. That person is me. Stage 2 breast cancer at 37 (I am now 42). I say that to add mine to the voices of support for the writer: there are no guarantees in life. Looking down a checklist of risk factors might give false hope to some people that they are immune from cancer. But that is not a guarantee it won’t happen.
Do the best you can. Look both ways. Get screenings (including BRCA-1 and 2 which would indicate a certain risk) and checkups. Exercise and drink only in moderation (the two factors that are most in your control). But the best death-defying thing we can do each day is to LIVE. And fear gets in the way of that. I wish the writer the best, and hope she can find a way to deal with the things that plague her.
So true. The field of epigentics has shown with good research that genetics are a very very small part of our susceptibility to disease, it ia 90% based on lifestyle factors that you can control. Take care of yourself the best you can that is the determining factor.
Thank you for this! I have been slowing but surely winning the battle with my crazy lady this year. Mine says “You’re going to develop schizophrenia just like your dad! Audit your own emotions and doubt your thoughts constantly! And if you are close to anyone, it will ruin their lives just like your dad’s did to you! And never get attached or settle down or ever, ever fall in love!”
Only recently, maybe now that I am past the when schizophrenia generally first manifests itself, have I been able to take steps to live my life more fully. Part of it was realizing that although my dad’s illness made my childhood and my mother’s life very, very difficult, it didn’t “ruin” anything, and that those times in the past and our lives now have value, even if they are imperfect.
Scared,
I DID get cancer at your age (I was 30). No family history of it. No clues. No prophecies. No shape of it in the tea leaves. It just appeared one day on my door step, like a grenade.
When it went off, my life blew to smithereens. Some things couldn’t be rebuilt –like my 2 year relationship to the man I thought I was going to marry. Because he couldn’t deal with it. And because we, I learned, didn’t have the strength and depth that a relationship needs to go the distance.
Here’s the crazy part. I AM A HAPPIER PERSON BECAUSE I GOT CANCER. That’s right. I am glad that I got cancer.
Glad because my trials and frustrations seem smaller now. Life is bigger now. Sweeter.
Glad because I learned not only who I could count on in my life THEN (my family especially) but I learned to how to identify quality people to befriend –a skill I will have forever.
Glad because life might have ended at age 30 but it didn’t and every year after is a gift.
I face a boatload of risks in the long-run due to the heavy radiation I had. Statistically speaking, my chances of living past 60 are not fantastic. But that will not stop me from loving my current boyfriend (with whom I have something extraordinary), marrying, and having children. Because, life is now and I want everything I can get from it.
Scared, I know that your experience of cancer was different from mine but you cannot mold your life around the prospect of death –because death is inevitable.
Embrace life instead. It is so sweet and so dear. You know that as much as anyone can. Treasure THAT, not it’s future demise.
Wonderful column. I love reading the comments to it, too. The darkness in our minds is always there, it seems, and ours, for better or worse. Sugar is right – it just needs to be reined in (I suppose I can hope for complete excision, but for the moment I’m working on control. Baby steps!)
there is a great saying that RuPaul uses as a metaphor for keeping your “invisible inner terrible someone” in check, from the movie When a Stranger Calls:
“Ma’am, listen to me. We’ve traced the call. The call is coming from inside the house. Get out of that house!”
This inner “crazy lady” that you speak of has got me thinking. Most of the time, my crazy comes from a scared little kid inside me that needs to be reassured that everything is going to be okay, and the adults will take care of anything that needs taking care of (e.g. cancer, grocery shopping, etc). Then I back it up with evidence. I take care of myself and prove to the scared part(s) that indeed everything will be okay.
Sometimes, Sugar, I desperately wish you could stand next to me, and whisper in my ear all the encouragement I wish I was hearing, when all I can hear is her. I re-read your columns, to find strength, because you are so beautifully vulnerable, and yet such a tough motherfucker. I admire you like crazy. I hope I can learn to quiet my inner terrible crazy lady, so I can be strong like you. Thanks for everything you give us, Sugar.
I think all our inner crazy ladies should get together and go to a spa or something. Let them have the day off so we can relax.
Ashe’
Don’t ignore the fact that so many of your family have died of cancer. Check it out – there is a lot you can discover and a lot that can be done if markers do turn up. It’s not at all crazy to be concerned with your history.
Sugar is right, here, but I also want to say that cancer is not the be-all, end-all of life, either! My best friend discovered she had stage 3c ovarian cancer exactly one month after becoming engaged. Her relationship with her fiancee went through fire and came out stronger and more beautiful than before. When they were married, despite my friend being in the last stages of her chemo, the wedding was an affirming celebration of life and love and God’s work in our lives. She is now two years cancer free. Bad things can be turned into good things. They can shut your crazy lady up, too. But bad things are going to happen whether you choose to love, or not. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just inevitable. No one leads a charmed life. I think the more we embrace that and still choose to remain vulnerable, the less our inner crazy ladies will have to spaz about.
Sugar, my grandmother died just last Wednesday of cancer and I have been grappling with this for a while. This column could not have come at a better time.
I know the LW probably won’t read this, but if she does, I want to share a tiny story with her. I had a friend growing up who, thanks to multiple congenital health problems, was gravely ill. We had been mourning him, quite truthfully, waiting for him to die from those for years…. when he was killed in a head-on collision returning from a football game with his father. We are never promised another day.
I am 70. When I was 9 my cousin(who lived across the street) died of leukemia. My mother died of ovarian cancer at 54 so I had my ovaries removed in my 40s. My brother, father, paternal aunt all died of different kinds of lung cancer. My maternal grandmother died of Hodgkins and my maternal uncle of colon cancer. When I was a child I would not allow myself to say the word or touch a page with the word on it. I finally gave up the idea that I could dot every single I and cross every T. I do try to take care of myself but I figure I will have to face this disease at some point…..the point is…..I am 70. Get busy with your life, don’t smoke, if you drink do it moderately and stay away from stress. I had the option to go on HRT after my hysterectomy and have stayed on it ever since. I ask the tech who does my mammogram every year if she has seen a difference in women who take it and those who don’t and she said it was very small. Get regular checkups and find out why you have this phobia and work on it because it just causes stress…..which you need to stay away from.
Sorry to leave this out. All those people I talked about except for my cousin were smokers or were around second hand smoke most of their lives. I have a friend whose lungs are in great shape but her dr is getting ready to do an in depth study of her bladder because she was a smoker 30 years ago.
My fiance’s father had Huntington’s Disease, which means his chance of getting it is 50%. Huntington’s is 100% fatal unless it takes long enough to kill you that you die of something else first, and it kills you slowly and unpleasantly. Here’s how we live with it:
1. He disclosed the possibility long before there was any talk of getting married. Similarly, I disclosed my psychiatric diagnoses and family history of mental illness. We both know what we’re getting into.
2. Financially and legally, we’re preparing for the worst. Saving as much as we can, choosing a career path with good disability benefits for him, and for me an income that can support both of us if necessary. We’re working on setting up wills and personal directives and powers of attorney and the rest, and we have honest talks about things like end-of-life care.
4. Emotionally, we’re living for the best, to be together until we’re both very old. Obviously we’re both going to die eventually, and while there is one disease higher up on his list of likely ways to go, we can’t really know how or when for either of us. That’s just life as a mortal.
My point, I guess, is this, letter writer: when it comes to genetic illnesses, the die was cast when your egg got fertilized. There’s nothing you can do to change it now. The decision available to you is how you’re going to live. Living in fear won’t save you, it will just make your time on earth miserable. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make your fear vanish in a puff of logic.
Sugar’s response and the comments that have been written – lovely.
Get genetic testing for Lynch Syndrome. Predictor of family cancer risk. Saved a the life of a friend of mine.
Spot on, Sugar. As someone who struggles with fairly severe anxiety, this meant a lot to me, and I hope it did for Scared for the Future too. And thank you for posting those links Esther. If I could afford it I would definitely consult a genetic counselor.
Scared of the Future,
I have an actual genetic disorder that runs in my family, and there is a high chance that I would pass it onto a child. Even with that, I still plan to try at some point. Lives are still worth living, even if they’re difficult.
A wonderful column response to a letter that could be written by anyone. I try hard to prevent worries from living my life. I want to focus on what is good and wonder filled right in front of me. I just read about a scientist who after a lifetime of curiosity about life was excited and curious to experience death. I want to be like him.
Sugar, as always, you know just what to say.
Death is the high cost of living. Despite that, it’s still a pretty popular thing to do. You can’t live your life in fear of the maybes and the what ifs. If you do that, then you’re not really living, you’re just wasting air. Don’t waste air, Scared Of. You’re better than that and you deserve better than that. Death comes when it comes and there’s no set time or place. So get your mammogram, move in with your boyfriend, and go see a movie that’s so bad it’s good. That’s life.
I am in a constant struggle for dominance over my “crazy lady” inside, who sometimes screams at me so loudly I can not hear the people around me activly telling me they love me. Her power comes from creating a fantasy so based in fear it MUST be real: you always KNEW it was true, SHE is just the only one willing to tell you. She creates a secret bond between the two of you which successfully isolates you from anyone who might tell you the REAL truth, which is that you are wonderful and precious and valuable and infinitely loveable. I recently realized that there is no room for TRUTH in that fantasy, which for once (finally) gave me the upper hand. I used to journal for hours writing down the stream of nasty this lady would be saying, as if getting it out onto paper would diffuse its power. Instead all that mean, hatefullness seemed to grow in strength once it was there written out for me to see, in black and white. After reading this wonderful article Sugar, you have inspired me to write the truth. Today I will wage war on the crazy lady’s fantasy by writing about the people who love me and the good things I have done and the joy I have felt. Today will be about truth.
Such a great column! Laughed and laughed! I esp like the comment from above about OMG STFU LADY! i think that will be my mantra! Coming from a Christian perspective, I was always told it was the voice of Satan and/or his helpers to try to defeat me from having the life that God wants me to have. i believed that – and still do – but the voice sounded so much like the mean side of me that until this column i didn’t realize that i was just being fooled. The Crazy Lady is one of his helpers… and to those of you who don’t believe in this conventional way as I do, you’re probably thinking: oh, no, her crazy lady has escaped!!!
The little voice in her head isn’t “crazy” – it’s right. There is ‘no tomorrow’ – none of us are guaranteed a tomorrow. The difference is that she is aware of it – and that can be a gift. To the extent that she thinks of it as just ‘craziness’ and discounts that voice that reminds her that today may be all there is, we’re encouraging her to deny that gift. But maybe remembering that none of us know when or how, that some who think they have no risk factors and feel immortal today may not be with us tomorrow and that even knowing her chances at one particular ‘how’ doesn’t impact the likelihood of that coming to pass or speak to ‘when’ at all can help her continue to build and live the life she loves today… The worst possible outcome is that she will have built a phenomenal foundation and memories for whatever comes next.
I wonder if the LW could use some mindfulness practice too. What I mean is, maybe we’re all going to die, and maybe she’s going to die sooner than someone else, but that doesn’t have to mean the sunrise is any less beautiful or the lemonade any less delicious. Much of our joy in life (as humans) comes from the small immediate experiences. When I get freaked out or depressed, sometimes it helps me to concentrate on the here-and-now, and think, “Yeah, I like what I’m doing right at this second.” It’s calming and cheering.
If this makes it past the moderator, god bless the internet. I hesitated to create an account because like the original poster, I too am plagued by anxiety, and *gasp* anxiety about my anxiety. I’d say the latter’s more a problem than the former, but that’s not hard to figure out.
To the OP: Scared of the Future, I say this from a place of compassion and hope that you’ll find happiness with yourself and live a full, healthy life: please try this out..
(*Note, I’m a male. Most commenters seem to be gals, FWIW)
I struggled with many of the same doubts and fears as you (with regard to mortality and other tangential issues), and still am of course, but only recently decided to seek counseling because the intrusive thoughts (look this up, it’s clinical and not a metaphor) became too difficult to bear.
I’d advise you do the same, it’s worked wonders in helping me realize how harmful it is to “catastrophize” your worries, fears and thoughts–that is, imagine the worst, expand upon worries until they become self-fulfilling balls of physiological stress that can ruin your health.
Since therapy can be expensive, here’s some things that I’ve learned in my time there that have helped immensely. They may not work for you, but you never know until you try. Again, I implore you to seek help if you can afford it / are willing. Sometimes, the hardest part is asking for help, and you’ll feel the tears of relief flow when you recognize that you are wonderful and caring and THINGS ARE GOING TO BE OK.
First, buy borrow or steal the book, “The Imp of the MInd: Exploring the Silent Epidemic of Obsessive Thoughts.” Written by one of the brightest folks working in the field of OCD and anxiety. It’s an illuminating experience, whether you have OCD or not. It reveals that if all of the people suffering from troubling obsessive thoughts were put together in the same city, it would be the 4th largest in America. (NB Sometimes I worry about statistics!!) Mothers worrying about harming their children, fathers worrying about turning into oncoming traffic, etc. You may not have obsessive thoughts about sex, violence or religion (the big 3 common categories), but the mental processes you’re using to blow these worries of yours up are very similar to those that I, and others who suffer from such thoughts, continue to subject themselves to. I don’t mean to imply that I think you have OCD–but know that you can have OCD without having a single physical “compulsion.” If you have obsessive thoughts that are diminishing the quality of your life, it’s a good read. Another NB: Worrying about your mortality… what could be more human?
Secondly, make a concerted effort to follow your fears to their “logical” conclusion and consider their likelihood objectively–you’ve begun to do it here, and I’m sure you’ve played out these horror scenes in your mind endless times–but DO IT IN WRITING. It will be very difficult to get down, for sure, and you’ll find it hard–THIS IS A GOOD THING.
Once you have things down, you can work backwards through these scenarios and ask yourself, “What’s the chances of THAT piece actually happening?” Chances are, they are infinitesimally small compared with the chance that you’ll have an encounter today with someone or something that will buoy you up and reaffirm your spirit–but only if your eyes are open and you’re receptive to it.
If you’re up to it, read over what you’ve written for a few days in a row. Monitor how you’re feeling when you’re reading the thoughts… are you anxious? Good. It’s called “Exposure Therapy” for a reason. Move at a pace that feels comfortable for you, but if it feels totally easy, you’re not working hard enough. It’s like someone who’s afraid of planes strapping themselves behind the wheel of a jet–probably not a good idea. Baby steps aren’t just for babies.
I guarantee you that if you read over what you’ve written a few times, and probably even above, you’ll start to habituate to them. You’ll start to think, “Well, that’s interesting” as you read, and your mind will start to wonder to innocuous tasks like laundry and those less innocuous like sleeping with your loved one(s). You’ve diffused the bomb of the thoughts so thoroughly that they’re BORING to you… Trust me, THAT is a good feeling.
Listen. That last paragraph is a distillation of what can take weeks, or years, apparently. It worked for me quickly, or should I say I saw very speedy positive effects but am still working and likely will be for many years if not the rest of my life, but it won’t work for everyone.
As I said, if you can, I’d try to talk with a therapist. If you have health insurance, the copays for behavioral health consultation are usually very affordable. If not, find a therapist that will work with you to make it possible. Again, it’s hard to ask for help, but nothing worthwhile is free except the magical presents that come in cereal boxes.
With love and compassion
SometimesEeyore
I wasn’t worrying about cancer when I was diagnosed at 26. Lucky for me, my disease was curable (after a debilitating summer of chemotherapy) thanks to decades of cancer research. If and when the writer or a loved one next faces cancer, more treatment options will be available thanks to ongoing research. She might even take comfort in supporting cancer research financially through fundraising or her own contributions so that fewer people have cancer and more diagnosed can be cure.
I don’t have a crazy lady screaming I’m gonna die. But I do have stage 4 breast cancer, and it’s highly unlikely I’ll live another five years. But maybe I will. The thing is nobody knows. So here’s how I see it, Scared. We all have two choices: we can live in a future we invent and fear, or we can live in the present which really exists. The only life we have is the one that’s happening now. Embrace it, leap into with abandon and joy. When the crazy lady shows up, just love her and tell her you hear her, you know we’re all mortal, you know she’s afraid, but she knows nothing about the future, and that’s not where you’re living anyway. You’re living in today. I’ve been married 10 years now to a man I met after my first diagnosis (stage 2 back then). We decided when we married to love every day together, and refuse to let fear rob us of however long we have. It’s been the best ten years of my life.
Dear Scared of the Future,
Those questions you asked are REALLY good questions—or can be—if—if-—you don’t let them make you totally neurotic. Meaning, if you can achieve and maintain some precious *balance*—accept the wisdom and perspective and appreciation for life that these questions bring, but refuse the neuroticness and craziness and shrinking from life that they also tempt us with.
And it’s very a tough balance to find and maintain.
Most people don’t think too much about death, and so they tend to make decisions without much perspective and or wisdom: they live and love as if life goes on forever—or if it’s at least supposed to go on for a very very long time into the future.
And living in this way invites people to live rather badly and superficially—to skim the surface, to take themselves and others for granted, to consume and shop and buy and spend, to live for themselves, to become greedy, to lust for power, prestige, status, et cetera. In short, to live in denial.
And then if they’re lucky, they get some sort of wake-up call at midlife or soon thereafter—some sort of brush with death and their own mortality. And if that wake-up call actually wakes them up, then they live better, make changes, rethink their life, have a metanoia, live with more grace and appreciation and kindness and perspective. Death does that. Or at least it can.
But this is not your lot, SotF. Living in denial is not your predicament. You’ve been touched by death—by the death and near-death of those nearest and dearest to you. Losing your father in high school? Unbelievably tragic. Your mother’s battle with breast cancer while in college? That was strike three. The verdict: Life can’t be trusted; life is tenuous, fleeting at best; we are fragile, I must be next.
You are wrestling with some pretty profound questions and realizations, SotF. Questions that wise people have wrestled with and become wise for having had the courage to wrestle with—while not letting themselves lose their passion and wonder for life.
The Buddha said: “Life is suffering.†Sickness, old age, death: these things cannot be avoided. But most people try—try desperately, try to avoid these, try to avoid thinking about these dark shouters, these inevitables. It’s called self-preservation: and it’s hard-wired into our DNA; we’re riddled with it. Yet because of this—because of how avoidant most people are in terms of facing their own and other’s mortality—most people wind up impoverishing themselves, leading lives of quiet and not so quiet desperation. Leading lives where they try to distract and anesthetize themselves in a myriad of ways—addictions, relationships, sex, shopping, impulsivity and fanaticism of every kind, mindless reading, elaborate new age metaphysics and soft-minded mumbo-jumbo. And they live and love poorly, badly, superficially, because of it. Because they lack courage. Because they are afraid—and too afraid to face (and really *feel*) how afraid (and lost) they are. There are numerous ways in which we human beings check out from the full intensity of living and loving. There are numerous ways we humans have devised in order to try and avoid suffering and feel like we have some control over our fate and over death.
“There is a great deal of pain in life, and perhaps the only pain that can be avoided is the pain that comes from trying to avoid pain.†– R. D. Laing
“The more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.†– Thomas Merton, “The Seven Storey Mountainâ€
But, again, this is not your lot, SotF. Your situation is different: How do you find (and maintain) balance between the lessons that having death over your left shoulder is teaching you (“carpe . . . carpe diem . . . seize the day, make your life extraordinary . . . !â€), and not letting death and the uncertainty you feel in terms of your own remaining life-span make you totally skittish? How do you live and love well and fully amid all of this uncertainty and fear? For you, the question is not: How would I live if I knew I only had one year (or 5 years) to live? It is: Now that I know not to take anything and anyone for granted in life, what do I most want to experience, and who (if anyone) do I most want to experience that with? Who do I want to go through time with (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhL36vP_lv4)—whatever time I have left and he has left? How do I most want to spend myself and my time?
Death is certain; the time of death is not. This is true for us all. Maybe (perhaps even likely) because of the history of cancer in your family, the odds are a bit increased that your time may be up a bit sooner rather than later. But death wins and life loses if you go too far and swing to the opposite side of the equation and in ways you don’t even realize you give up on living and loving and refuse the gift.
“How do I decide whether or not to get married?â€
If you love this man deeply, if knowing him has changed your life in ways you could not imagine and still cannot fully fathom for the better and vice versa, if knowing each other is bringing you both more alive, then you look him in the eyes and promise to love him with all that you are for as long as you can and then you go out and do this. Every day. That is the essence of carpe diem.
Read Schweitzer’s essay “Overcoming Death†in “Reverence for Life†(pp. 67-76) (http://realtruelove.wordpress.com/2012/02/13/albert-schweitzer-on-love-death-and-gratitude/), read chapter 14 (“Sex, Love, and Deathâ€) in Schnarch’s book “Passionate Marriage,†read C. S. Lewis’s words in the chapter on “Charity†in “The Four Loves.†And watch “Shadowlands,†watch “The Notebook,†and if this is how you feel about your beloved, if this is who you are and who you aspire to be at your core, then marry him, give yourself fully to him, and LOVE him with all that you are and aspire to be.
“How do I look in to the face of this man I adore and explain to him what he might have to go through if I am diagnosed? And worse, if I don’t make it?â€
If he loves you, if he truly loves you, he will consent to all of this; he will sign on for it. Love is not about sparing someone else inevitable pain or trying to shield them from the brute inevitable facts of life. Love is about facing reality bravely, courageously, with grit, resolve, kindness, compassion, depth, understanding, openness.
“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The only alternative to tragedy, or at least the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.†― C.S. Lewis, “The Four Lovesâ€
“I’ve already decided not to have children. How can I saddle a child with something that I don’t even think I can face myself?â€
Then death may have already won and claimed you. Consider that. Consider with what you are saying here whether death may not have already won. Consider that.
“How do I plan for the future when there may be no future to plan for? They say “live your life to the fullest because there may be no tomorrow,†but what about the consequences of “no tomorrow†on the people that you love? How do I prepare them for what I might have to go through?â€
It’s not your job to prepare your spouse or to protect him from your death. Every person has to prepare themselves for their own death and for the death/loss of those they love. Every person has to do this for themselves. No one can do this work for anyone else in life. And having to do this work and prepare for one’s own death and for the deaths of those we love is a horrific thing to have to do; but the alternative—trying to avoid this and spare ourselves and others this—is even more horrific. It leads us to live superficially at best and badly at worst.
“How do I prepare myself?â€
Be gentle with yourself, treat yourself kindly, and read (Pema Chodron’s books would be a great place to start), think, write/journal, contemplate, talk, listen, love, live, walk, observe, participate, develop a spiritual practice, meditate, appreciate, be grateful, cry, weep, be open, smile, laugh, breath. Most of all breath. Be good to yourself, be kind to yourself, let yourself love and be loved—yes, this most of all—let yourself really love and be deeply loved.
Nothing is guaranteed. This is so difficult to accept, and like everyone else you are having difficulty accepting this, but you are approaching this from a much different starting point than most. But the crux is still the same: to accept that life does not offer guarantees, and thus to learn how to live and love on life’s terms, and not your own. Acceptance means surrendering some of the control you are so desperately craving; it means relinquishing this, easing up your grip on the proverbial wheel; it means learning to live and let live—it means to let yourself live and truly live.
This is so so late to the party, I’m sorry!
But I know exactly what you mean. The bad, terrible, awful person in your head who whispers harsh comments, and if you’re alone or feeling alone, it’s almost like a real person bringing you down. Even saying things that are childish and don’t make sense, but they hurt because you think they’re true. I had a day just recently where the crazy lady was shouting and screaming in my head, telling me that no one cared and that I’m just a bother at best and I should just leave people alone. Lying on the bed in the dark sort of stuff.
I think that going to see a doctor and talking to your potential husband is a great idea! But I also wanted to say that if you can inadvertently make your own enemy in your head, you can make your own ally.
Sometimes the crazy lady is just so cruel and crushing, and I find it helps (even if it’s just like an imaginary friend) to think of a voice or a figure that you like or see as strong. Or even as funny. My voice sounds a lot of John DiMaggio. I know, silly. But being able to think “wow, my internal ally has a really gruff, manly voice” can help you think a little straighter.
And then it kind of rolls from there. Make your ally totally on your side, but make them honest. Make them say “Yeah, maybe you will, maybe you won’t, but you can do something about that, you have so many awesome people who love you, and most importantly you are SO CRAZY AWESOME. Not even exaggerating. Who the hell can cook a cheesecake like you? Huh? And who has an awesome dog that everyone wants to be friends with, but let’s be honest, she loves YOU the most. What about that great sense of humour that’s been on the ball recently? Oh, and did I mention that your house is so very tastefully decorated and it makes everyone feel at home, because you make your house a home? This crazy lady is just trying to keep you all to herself, because if you don’t feed her your doubt and fear, she doesn’t get to live. She’s killing your happiness and personality so she can live. Let’s kick her ass.”
It’s not perfect. Sometimes I do still feel a little sad or uncertain. But what makes me get up again and try to fix things is feeling like I have an ally in the part of me that wants to be happy and healthy. Who wants to help others be happy and healthy.
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