When Survival Mode Ends (written in May 2019)
Solo California Road Trip - May 2018
I couldn’t even be outside. I tried multiple times. I would make it a little farther each time I did. Taking in the fresh air outside my darkroom at first – then it would start to creep in. It started in my chest— that heavyweight of the world type feeling. So strong it was suffocating.
No, I can do this…
I pushed on.
But then, everywhere I looked, it was there. Signs of life moving past me. Everyone else’s life moving forward while mine stood still. The visual appearance of every else’s life made me want to scream. It was the life of a young couple holding hands, casually walking down the sidewalk. They would stop for a simple embrace as a hint of laughter and a slight smile came over them.
It was the woman pushing her baby in a stroller and the family in the park. The father spinning his toddler in circles with not a care in the world. It was everything I thought I now, would never have. It wasn’t just sadness—it was anger.
It was hate.
I hated everyone. Strangers and friends.
I hated myself for this hatred which only made me break down more.
Looking back on this time I couldn’t even go back to that deep, dark place of anger and sadness. I wouldn’t even know what would take me back there. It was something that had to happen. The inevitable moment when survival mode ended and the collapsing grief of losing everything I thought I wanted in life—needed in life. I was grieving a life I once had and sought after daily—when I planned for a future and that next big thing in my life. It is the life that most people are living in right now and I did for 36 years. It was the ordinary moments in the present and the hope that these ordinary moments will continue in the future.
I’m currently sitting on an airplane coming back from a trip to Los Angeles (May 2019) with two of my friends. It was such a different trip than my last California trip. Almost exactly 1 year ago I booked a flight to San Diego and less than 3 days later I embarked on a solo trip after cancer finally took its toll on me mentally.
No one told me it was coming. I guess I should have known I couldn’t stay as strong as I was for that much longer. As you all know, my goal was always to try and stay positive throughout my cancer experience. I tackled the physical treatment and decision-making process like a warrior. Sure, I had my days where I would stay in bed all day with sudden occurrences of crying, but nothing like this. This depression hit me all at once. I’ve never seen a place so dark. Not even on that day they officially confirmed it was cancer. Within two days of that, I was continuing to push through—survival mode.
So what happens when survival mode ends?
It seemed like it happened overnight. It was 3 months after my official diagnosis. I was settled into my treatment, the appointments became fewer and I had set boundaries with friends and family so I wasn’t continually being bombarded with “how are you-s”. I was feeling weaker than the normal me, but I was feeling like things were looking up…physically. Then I started crying—all the time.
Sobbing.
The “why me-s” started and I felt suffocated with all of the sadness of thinking my life was over.
I’m single, alone and I have cancer. Who will want to date me now? I’m damaged. Why would anyone want to be a part of this life that wasn’t guaranteed? How could I even date? I’m bald. I’m ugly. I’ll never be able to look in a mirror again. I couldn’t have children. Why would someone want someone without that capability? My career is over. I’m losing months of progression. They will replace me when they realize they don’t need me. I won’t be able to get a raise this year. I will never love again. I will never laugh again. I’m dying.
Why me? Why me? Why me?
I would scream it at the top of my lungs while almost choking on my tears. Hyperventilating in one moment, then staring at the wall in the next. I couldn’t sleep without strong sleeping pills. I would watch Grey’s Anatomy non-stop because it was the only time I wouldn’t cry. I know, odd show to watch but it actually made me focus on other people’s problems and not my own. I would try to turn it off. I was so tired, but every time I would, I would start sobbing again. I ignored everyone. Even Claire, which is how I knew it was bad. I would never come out of my room when she came home.
I booked an appointment with my counsellor because I recognized I needed help with this downward spiral. At the time, I don’t feel like it helped even though I’m sure just talking it out through sobbing with someone really did ease it a bit. I just couldn’t tell because I was so deep. After about a week I tried to actually leave my house and go for walks. I knew what I had to do to get out of it but, it was just such a sad struggle. I couldn’t even look at strangers living their life without the tears starting to stream down my face. I wanted to scream that I hated them. I would receive text messages from friends but, I hated them too. They didn’t have cancer. They had children, they were pregnant, they were dating—they were able to laugh—live. All the things I (in that moment) though I’d never have.
After about 10 days of no sleep and constant tears of anger and sadness, I knew what I needed. There was only one thing that was going to be able to pull me out of this darkness. Yeahhhh… you guessed it! Travel. I booked a flight flying into San Diego and out of San Francisco and rented a mustang convertible for in-between. Money was no object. I didn’t care about money at this moment. What was I saving for anyway? The future? What future? I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving until late the night before I left. I knew many of them wouldn’t understand and would be very worried about me going alone after going dark for the 2 weeks prior.
I didn’t care. I hated them and their lives.
They didn’t have this reason to escape because their lives were still moving forward.
Side note: There was no point in this darkness where I felt suicidal. I wanted to live and had been fighting to live since my diagnosis. This was my body telling me that it was finally feeling stronger physically and it was now allowing the mental turmoil to set in. It was ready for me to work through the emotional heaviness of having cancer. My body had to push through the physical pain and exhaustion of cancer so my mind could not falter—not yet.
As soon as I saw those palm trees and felt the heat on my skin, I knew I made the right decision. I stayed for 3 days with friends in San Diego and then made my way up the coast with a short stop in Palms Springs. I didn’t make plans for the next destination until I was at the one before. I had no plan. I brought a cooler because I’m smart like that. Packed it full of green juice (so cheap in Cali!) and drove. I’ll tell ya, the one great thing about having no hair is there are no instances of tangled hair or it getting stuck to your lip gloss while in a convertible.
“Survival mode is supposed to be a phase that helps save your life. It is not meant to be how you live.”
I was no longer “Kelly with cancer”. I was just—Kelly. I had been the centre of what seemed like everyone’s world for months, but it was always revolving around cancer. It was suffocating to me. There is no way I could have escaped the darkness while staying in a place where I was constantly being reminded I had cancer. Travel is the one thing I have always trusted. It doesn’t talk back, it opens my eyes, it scares me, it challenges me, it pushes me outside my comfort zone, it allows for growth, and is whatever I need it to be at the time I need it.
My friend Kim gave me her wig for the trip as I didn’t have mine yet. When I went out with it on, people had no idea I had cancer and I definitely didn’t tell them. I needed cancer-free time. I met some pretty interesting people and had conversations about life and living it to the fullest. I was supposed to meet those strangers. They brought me back to life, story by story.
This trip is where I learned that you don’t need to plan and have a purpose for every trip. I would just wander aimlessly through the streets of different coastal towns with no purpose at all. There is actually a word for it.
Flaeùr – to wander aimlessly without purpose.
I drove the Pacific Coast Highway the entire way. I stopped or drove through Palm Springs, Oceanside, Laguna Beach, Venice Beach, Malibu, Huntington Beach, Santa Barbara, Monterey, Carmel-by-the-Sea, Big Sur and then made my way to my last stop, San Francisco. By the time I arrived in SF, I was energized. I felt I had a long enough break away from all things cancer I was able to visit with my dear friend Ashley and tell her my story without the hatred, sadness and tears. I actually only cried once in the 16 days I was in California. Considering I cried almost 24 hours a day for 2 weeks prior I was probably all out.
When I came home, I wasn’t without sadness but I felt my warrior strength gradually seeping back into me. I was more patient with my feelings. I would allow myself to feel sad and angry but never let myself stay there too long. I slowly allowed my friends back into my life. I didn’t hate them, obviously. I loved them, their children, their relationships and their life advancements. I had a long visit with my friend Kim, my cancer mentor, and she made me realize the grass isn’t greener. Being “alone” through cancer is probably a blessing. I am not a mother, a girlfriend or a wife. It is just me and therefore I only had to worry about myself. I realize that now. The hatred, the anger. I was grieving the life I used to have. The life I thought would last forever and give me everything I thought I needed. In the weeks after my return, I started to realize that maybe this was all a blessing. A fucked up one, but a blessing nonetheless. My determination and courage to find meaning buried in my worst tragedy came to life. That is when the “new me” and my “new life” started to begin. I realized that life after cancer is what you make it and I choose to make it great!