This one might be longer…..
So right now, I am in a phase of healing. It’s physical right? There are cuts and bruises, wounds and drains. But, it would be silly to think there isn’t a big emotional part to healing.
The Breast Care nurse told me, there will be tears on day 3, that’s when the emotional toll rears its head. I thought….. nah I’m different, I’m not emotional about my boobs. At least that part was true (or has been so far). The emotions came, but it was for something entirely different and very unexpected.
At 3am on Friday (day 3, albeit only just) I woke up with a start. I immediately started to cry. I had a sudden realisation…… to explain it, I have to go back and tell you a few things. Many will know these, others……. well what can I say, soon you will know everything about me!!!!
For many years, I have suffered with anxiety. I’ve had all kinds of treatment; psychologists, medication, strategy plans (one of which is writing). Time and time again the people I spoke to said…… you need to find your trauma. At least two said, it is a childhood trauma.
Sorry just had to stop writing for a cry…. (BTW it is 2:49am two days after the first outburst).
I could never figure it out. I had a good childhood, I grew up supported and loved. I got to play the sports I wanted (although sometimes limited by asthma). I ate well. I swam and I swam. Granted, we were the last people in the street to get a CD player but hey…. that couldn’t be it. All of these are Australia memories, I didn’t really have memories of living in New Zealand (in hindsight, that should have been a clue).
Here’s the interesting bit….
On Tuesday night, I had a terrible time. My asthma flared. I was flat on my back, had little movement, didn’t have the drugs I would normally use and I just could not breathe. I was absolutely terrified.
Bam 💥
It had to happen again for me to see it. There was my trauma right there. I was and therefore am, absolutely terrified of not being able to control my breathing.
As a child, I must have constantly been in this state. As it turns out, I was a very sick little girl. I did know that, but the extent to which, I had completely blocked out. Moving to Australia at 8 years old not only served to provide drastic improvement to my health but it was the perfect place for my little brain to build a wall and lock all of that terror away.
I never processed it. I never grew from it. And it held me back big time.
I’ve had two days to chat to Mum, Dad and my sister. We have shared memories and there has been a lot of ‘Ohhhhhhh, that makes sense now’. It has been a beautiful time for all of us.
I now know, this journey will heal so much. I even wonder if breast cancer could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me?
THAT SOUNDS CRAZY but already, it is setting me free.
A (2.0) x
The BooBee Journey 