TGIF :: Cancer & The 2nd Awareness

Weekly drop #37 || How "conscious consumption" can help us heal & thrive

From a “departures & arrivals” circle this month. Reference towards the end.

A Year Ago

On December 12, 2022, I sat down at our dining table with seven women for our annual dinner and gift wrapping tradition. We’d barely picked up our forks when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the screen and saw it was my doctor. I excused myself and walked down the hall to the dimly lit sanctuary of my son’s empty bedroom.

“Hello, Cecily. It’s Dr. E. I understand a nurse reached you today, but I wanted to connect directly. We have your biopsy results. You have breast cancer.”

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation, something about my cancer type being among the more “treatable” types with surgery, radiation, “maybe chemo, we’ll see.” The dinner and wrapping festivities that followed are a blur.

For the following week, I researched my cancer, met with doctors and equipped with relative calm and clear next steps, informed my nearest and dearest, including my sons, then 15 and 11. The holidays happened. I had a lumpectomy as soon as possible, on January 12th, and three weeks of daily radiation in March. I published a piece on the experience right around then, My Breast Cancer Journey, Part I: Discovery, Early Treatment & Healing. I have yet to finish “Part II.”

One Year Later

According to my six-month screening in September, there are no enduring or new signs of cancer. My treatments were successful. Due to a “micro-metastasis,” a tiny tumor in one of my lymph nodes, long term recurrence detection and prevention—a combination of regular screenings, blood tests, medication, and a healthy diet—will carry on for the rest of my life. Truth be told, yes, some of this has been absolutely shitty, but all in all, I consider myself blessed. I caught it early enough and have wonderful care. My prognosis is excellent. ❤️

This anniversary has me reflecting on learnings from this experience. A lot changed this year. I use “cleaner” beauty and household products, treat stress like the toxic beast it is, and drink more water. I’m a bit more courageous than I was a year ago, and I have a new kind of “fuck-it muscle” that sounds like “Why wait?!”

Other learnings are more subtle, yet potent: I am better at letting people care for me (“Yes, I’d love that soup you offered to bring by”). I trust myself and speak up while navigating health decisions (“That medicine feels extreme given my case; can we start with something else?”). I embrace rest (who knew I had the capacity to spend two hours lying on my back on our living room floor doing nothing else other than listening to music?!).

Conscious Consumption While Navigating Difficulty

One of my biggest take-aways is a renewed way of working with “I choose what I consume,” the second of The Eight Awarenesses, an approach to changing our relationship with anything that stands between us and the version of ourselves we want to be. Useful in changing habits, getting ahead of addiction, and reclaiming agency, The Second Awareness invites us to see that what we consume is up to us.

Physical care only goes so far. True wellbeing and durable health is an inside job. No matter what difficulty we are facing—whether it is a challenging family dynamic, a career stress, depression, a threatening illness, or something else—what we “consume” can play a huge role in how we navigate and emerge from any challenge.

Being careful about what I “let in” was a critical feature of my cancer healing journey, and I’m not talking about what I ate or drank (though that matters too). If our days are filled with negativity, stress, and brooding, no amount of kale, yoga, or clean water will save us. Our health is directly tied to what we consume, seek out and let in—energetically. And we are usually positioned to influence, if not control, what we consume that way too.

How?

🌟 Read, listen to, and watch nourishing content.

We have a lot of power over what we fill our consciousness with. We can ask ourselves if what we “consume” media-wise is nourishing—or not.

For me this meant steering clear of books, podcasts, and online resources that sparked fear or dread and instead consuming content that helped me feel informed and empowered. This meant putting certain materials down, deleting certain shows from my podcast library, and removing myself from various online breast cancer forums.

𐄳 Limit communications with people who bring us down.

When we are in crisis, the last thing we need is people making us feel worse.

In my case, I didn’t want to amplify fear while navigating treatment. I was trying to stay calm. I interrupted conversations with people telling me their cancer horror stories. I didn’t want to hear about failed treatments, unexpected loss “after everyone thought s/he was fine,” and so on. This looked like speaking up: “I know you are well intentioned in sharing this, but I’d rather not go there right now. Mind if we talk about something else?” I did this on the phone, in the dental chair, and at a school event (the dental chair was the toughest! 😂).

🕊️ Hold space to rest.

Conscious consumption can also mean not consuming.

I grew up in a “buck up” family. There wasn’t a lot of room to be sick, cry, or rest. For me, part of the work this year has been learning to maintain that strong constitution, especially during my radiation treatments, while also allowing more, feeling more, and simply doing less. Walking in silence. Listening to music in stillness. Cooking, slowly. Sleeping in, once or twice :)

❤️ Let love in.

Barreling through is not always the answer. Sometimes the nourishment we need is letting other people do kind things for us, even if we know (or think) we can do them ourselves.

I shed my “I got it” mantra years ago, but really had to put my newfound receptivity to the test this past year. I let people care for me with all kinds of unexpected yet deeply appreciated favors, gifts, and other gestures that simply reminded me I am loved. And, yum, the soups. 🥰

📆 Use intentional language.

Little signals throughout our days matter. A great example is how we title commitments in our calendars.

I had fifteen radiation treatments in March. Instead of naming these calendar entries “Radiation, UCSF,” I titled each session “Chasing Rascals.” I wanted to visualize these sessions as tracking down any cancer cells that may have sneakily “escaped” before my tumor and sentinel lymph nodes were surgically removed. It made the whole experience feel less heavy, more purposeful, oddly even a bit fun. Blocking time to work out? Call it “Body ❤️.” Taking kids to a sporting event? How about “Driving Monkeys.” Attending therapy? Try on “Time for Me.”

🤫 Request what we need.

When a recurring interaction isn’t working for us, we can ask for change.

I completed a Covid questionnaire and had my temperature taken upon entering the hospital lobby most days in March. One of the ladies whose job it was to make sure these steps were complete was mean. Her tone of voice and attitude were brusk, condescending and rude, the last thing I (or anyone else) needed before entering “Dedicated CANCER CENTER Elevators.” After a week of being rattled daily, I finally asked her to please be kind and gentle with us patients, most of us are pretty delicate. She was much nicer after that :)

📛 Assume labels with caution.

Labels matter.

I don’t like the term “breast cancer survivor” any more than I like “sober.” While these terms are nourishing life-lines for some, I’d rather just be Cecily, someone with a breadth of life experiences like everyone else. This orientation has helped me experience life as full of chapters without being defined by any of them. Like my mom not letting anyone call me “Cec” as a kid (though Mel, you’re the exception!), I still remind others to please not attach these terms to me from time to time.

Letting Levity and Joy in

Our annual dinner and gift wrapping party fell on the exact one year anniversary of my diagnosis this past Tuesday, December 12. We sat down at the same table, plus an extension, as our group had grown from seven to eleven.

We talked of “departures and arrivals,” what we want to leave behind in 2023 and look forward to in 2024 (a bit of a holiday theme this year). Around the table we went as we each spent a few minutes opening up about a range of things we’re navigating: challenges with kids, health concerns, difficult parents, finding our voices, career changes, and attuning to our bodies.

There were no unwanted phone calls. 😅

But there were a lot of laughs. Perhaps what felt most nourishing that night, even amidst some of our solemn topics was an infectious joy that this group of dear women friends and I share after decades of ever-evolving connections.

This year has been heavy—also beautiful, humbling, and heart-opening. Of course I notice more, appreciate the little things, live with more intention, and believe in magic. But the arrival I’m looking forward to in 2024 is more levity and joy. It’s something I’d love to be more open to letting in, and generous with, in the new year. I hear it is contagious :)

Love. ❤️‍🩹

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Miscellaneous…

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No Clothes for a Year…?! I don’t mean living naked, but not purchasing any clothes for an entire year. A friend did this for all of 2022. When I heard her talking about it I had the same sense of marvel and inspiration I had when I heard women talking about taking a year off of drinking pre-ClearLife. It sounds hard, but healthy in all kinds of ways (and good for our Earth). Any takers out there? We’d start January 1st, so get your supply of socks and underwear soon :)

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