“You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

May was mental health month. In the past ten years or so, I have recognized it as a month that includes me as a member. Yet, this is the first year I truly, truly felt it resonate so deeply. I wanted to write so badly. The irony, I just mentally was not in the space to do so. I have struggled since my reconstruction surgery six weeks ago. I have been tired, and my anxiety has been difficult to keep under control. It is hard to pinpoint the why, but that is the thing with anxiety; there often is no specific reason, or it is difficult to identify the root cause with the constant flutter of thoughts and fears.

Those constant thoughts, along with unwavering worry, were my first step into a diagnosis of anxiety. While I now realize those symptoms of anxiety have always been present in my life, it took a trip to the doctor with chest pains not long after having my third son to formally receive the diagnosis. I considered myself in the category of the coined term “high functioning” anxiety. I was doing life: working, raising a family, being a leader and being present for others, volunteering, always saying yes. Underneath that surface, however, my drive for perfectionism, my fears of failing, my lack of self confidence and my endless worrying were churning below the surface. My already poor sleeping turned much worse, and my body’s physical manifestation of all the anxiety was chest pains. This time in my life was a big step in recognizing that my body was telling me something, and I needed to take the advice I so often gave to others – it was okay to not be okay; it was okay to say the chemicals in my brain were not balanced, and I needed help, and it was okay to say yes to medication to help heal. Looking back at my then self, I have realized that while I felt so weak in that moment, it was by far one of my strongest.

As is the case for most of us, life continued, and the busy continued. And while I had learned baby steps in understanding my anxiety, I pushed taking care of myself fully to the side. It is not in my nature to put myself first. Deeply rooted in my being is also a very intuitive empathy for others, a constant pull for me – truly a blessing and at times a curse. The putting off my health, stretching myself way too thin, along with a pandemic, and then cancer forced my full cup to spill over this past year. While I am not ready to completely share my lows, as I am still working through that piece, I can honestly say that my eyes have been opened to understanding the very real hold anxiety can take on one’s being. The silver lining is those gripping times of panic led me to finally make the check up appointments I had put off, accept the incredible offerings of the cancer center like therapy, to take help when it was offered as hard as that is, and talk. Talk, not in the surface level way most of us are groomed to portray. But talk, in an honest and real way. This is so important in therapy, but it is also so true for me in my daily life interactions. I believe that our truths are what actually connect us all in authentic ways. And while it is so hard to admit and share my lows, I feel a very strong pull that part of my gift out of all of this is to do my part to help break the stigma around mental health.

There are so many layers to my anxiety, it is often overwhelming to think of how to compartmentalize it all to share through my writing. Writing is one of my passions, my degree from college actually, but it is where my perfectionism gets in my way as well. In addition, I struggle immensely with removing that perception that I have it all together, that somehow people will think less of me. I also know I am so incredibly blessed in my life, on so many levels, which holds me back sometimes from speaking out. But my truth is that while I know I am so strong and fortunate in so many ways, I also have anxiety, and anxiety does not care about all those facts. Today I finally decided to share a small glimpse into my mind in the hopes that maybe it touches one person. I could not do it in May, but I also realized that for those of us that share in mental health struggles, it is not just one month. It is every day.

I am learning to build on my strong foundation, to work to be the best version of myself, to find and accept what makes me happy, to always remember the power of therapy. I hope that in my vulnerability, others can perhaps give themselves permission to do so also. For those of you who walk this path as well, I see you, I feel you, and I am always here.

Kerry

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

Maya Angelou

These past nine days have truly flown by in a haze of every emotion possible. It is hard to grasp that feelings of gratitude for so much this past week can settle side by side with so many feelings of sadness, pain, and tears. This has been one of the hardest weeks of my life. I came out of a six hour surgery in a complete fog, not truly grasping what my body had just endured, but knowing enough in my still drug induced brain to let the tears flow in the post op room. All I wanted in that moment was my Luke, holding my hand and telling me it was going to be okay. My body did not co-operate right away, and thanks to my extremely low blood pressure that would not elevate, I spent significantly more time in the post op area than planned before being moved to recovery. Once I finally made it to recovery, I saw the face I needed, Luke. My surgery was planned with me being admitted to the hospital. However, once in recovery, it became obvious they were going to push me home, and quickly. One of the more poignant realizations in all this of this COVID world, a world we have lived in for almost a year, but felt so real in that moment where I knew I was not okay to go home, but I had to summon the strength to make myself okay to do just that. I can look back now and be grateful I was surrounded by these amazing pink ribbons full of words of comfort and love, the love and gentle care of Luke and my sister. But I also can look back and see how hard this week has been beginning with that first evening coming home floundering after a major surgery.

Pain management the first few days was tricky. I feel like we had just found the sweet spot to maintain comfort, and the typical “Bowler stomach” reared its ugly head. After days of some negative side effects to the pain medication, the final stop for some relief (milk of magnesia is evil) led to me being really sick. I can attest to being nauseous and especially physically sick after this surgery is not fun. I have relied on the combination of ibuprofen and Tylenol for several days now, too afraid to touch anything stronger. A trade off for sure, dealing with more pain while trying to get my stomach back on track.

While balancing the physical side of the last days, I have really struggled emotionally. All over the place really, from not wanting to look at myself, frustrated in needing help to do anything including shower, feeling like a terrible mom as I cannot be there for my boys as I usually would, anger at being knocked down when I physically cannot pick myself up yet, and isolated, so isolated, due to this pandemic. While we all have already felt that over these months, it is a completely different beast while fighting an illness like cancer. We have to be so careful, yet I long for my boys to have some normal and just go play at their best friend’s houses to escape this reality; I would give anything for my dearest friends to come distract me for an hour and squeeze me (gently) in a hug. This week, I hate this pandemic on a whole new level.

Today, I am working very hard to consciously start the week with a better mindset. Writing this, both so I can remember but also so I can let it out in words, is my start. I also decided I need to physically write some things I am thankful for, to bring some positive to the forefront instead of just dwelling on the hard. So, that cute picture at the top of my post. Many of you saw the video that Luke made of the strings of ribbons around my bedroom. What an incredible gift, every single time I open my eyes or sit here just staring, those ribbons are what I see and read. I will never forget all the words of love given to me, and the love of Luke, my sister and mother-in-law to work so hard to bring those words to life for me. I am also thankful for the cute pup in that picture, who is annoying a lot of the time, but has rarely left his mama’s side these days. The meals that have been given through the meal train, gift cards, and donations, I cannot express the relief of not worrying about something simple like dinner for our family. And the showering of gifts, both genuinely thoughtful in their practicality, and comforting in their generosity, I am blessed. The quote at the start of my blog is one of my absolute favorites. It is truly the best way to express my deep rooted feelings of gratitude; and the very real fact that I will never forget.

I will most remember from this past week my two families, who sacrificed so much to quarantine and be safe to be able to help us, both in taking care of me and caring for the boys. My Bowler family and my DeVito family, it is hard to find the words to explain how incredibly blessed I am. When it comes specifically to my sister, she is just a rare human being. She has come and gone from two hours away multiple times in the last weeks. She helped me get ready for my surgery, she was here when I got home, she has comforted me in my weakest moments, and helped me to feel more human with her gentle touch. I could never have imagined that begging her to braid my hair as a kid would come full circle with her braiding my hair for me as an adult as I work to beat cancer. She has filled my freezer with food, my bedroom and bathroom with touches of comfort, washed my sheets, cleaned my house, cared for my littlest guy. She has given Luke some relief in shouldering it all right now. Put simply, we could not have done this without her. And Luke, he is a one of a kind man. I can see the struggle for him in all of this, most prominently his concern for me. But he has handled it with strength and grace. He puts my care first in every way, while balancing the kids, my appointments, his work. And in between all that, he continues to tell me I am perfect while he holds my head as my tears flow. He is everything good in my life; he is my perfect partner.

So, this week. I am struggling so much in the last few days with looking at myself and being okay with the changes now and ahead. I am sure it is normal, but it is hard. I start physical therapy twice a week to get some motion back. I have once a week appointments to get my expanders filled. I really, really, really hope to get these drain tubes out this week. I have weeks and weeks ahead of more hard, but for today, I am going to focus on this one week. Wish me luck as I start the week today with physical therapy.

To be continued for any of you who made it this far ~ as my journey in this new life after cancer has just begun.