Anxiety, Depression, Loneliness and the Dog That Saved Me (part 1)

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony." - Gandhi 

It's Christmas morning, about 6:30am and I'm curled up all cozy in my bed, Rocky sleeping next to me with his head resting close to my hip. His breathing is heavy as little snores escape his snout. You'd think he was in a deep sleep but every few moments, he pops his head up and looks at me as if to ask, "Now mom? Is it time now?"

When he realizes I'm not quiet ready to take him on his W.A.L.K, (we never, under any circumstance whats so ever, mutter that word out loud unless you are ready to fully commit) he lets out an annoyed sigh and places his head back down on the bed beside my hip. 

I let out a laugh. To him, this is what he lives for. His small world of happiness looks like food, poops, cuddles and walks. It's as simple as that. 

I look down at his shiny black coat and the green handkerchief I have tide loosely around his neck. Although unintentional, it's quite festive next to his red and black plaid collar.

The loneliness I'm feeling is temporarily filled with a deep sense of love as I think about how lucky I am to have serendipitously found him. How different both of our lives would be had that fateful day of scrolling Instagram  never happened. Rocky would be eight months dead and I, well, in some ways, I suppose I would be too. 

I think about how he came along when I wasn't even looking and filled a big hole in my heart I never realized was there. If it wasn't for him, I truly believe my days would look and feel a whole lot darker. 

I like to joke that I didn't save him. He saved me. As if I even had any say in the matter. 

I'm reminded again that wonderful and unexpected things always come when you are not looking. It's as if something so much bigger knows exactly what you need, when you need it and just how it should come to you.

Huh. Funny how that works.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about this as I've been consumed with this feeling of dis-ease and discomfort. Anxiety has riddled me once again and I find myself grasping for what I can not truly control. I want to force and manipulate those things I want so badly and it seems the happy days are few and far between and I can't seem to figure out why.

Is it hormonal shifts? Is it just this time of year and how it's colder and darker and my skin hasn't felt the warmth of the sun in what feels like forever? Is it that I'm still single and it seems harder and harder to meet a genuine, honesty, caring man? Or is it that I'm still putting way too much emphasis on the fact that I'm still single after four years?

Or is it that I feel unstoppable change coming my way and I'm not sure I'm ready for it?

But then I settle on what I truly feel it is; that I'm trying so hard to hold on to things that never were meant to be mine. 

I can't help but wonder as I watch how simple it is to make Rocky happy, that maybe I still, even after all these year and experiences and learnings and time, have it all wrong?

Upon further explorations, I realized that maybe this dis-ease and discomfort are from holding on to ideas and perspectives, certain people and old comfort zones? Maybe it's time to really, truly let go. To say goodbye to what I want to be mine but what will never be? 

I look up from my computer to find Rocky peeking back at me with one eye open as if to say, "Mom, I can't even be bothered to lift my head if it's still not bloody time to go on a walk." I laugh again and feel the center of my chest fill with warmth. It's a genuine laugh. A genuine warmth. That is what I long for. More of that feeling, deep within my chest. 

It's true and real and 100% authentic. It bubbles up from such depths that it momentarily warms my whole body. It's pure joy and bliss. 

It's 100%, without a doubt, happiness and love. 

I throw back the covers and Rocky jumps up with contagious enthusiasm. If he could talk he'd sing with such unwavering and flamboyant joy, "It's TIIIIMMMMMMMEEEE!" As he prances of the bed because now it was, in fact, time for his WALK. One of the most most simplest joys to this bright eyed pup day. 

I slip on my UGG boots and beanie and zip up my black North Face puffy vest and know, without a doubt, that yes, it is in fact...TIME. 

To be continued.

Saying Good-bye To A Life-Long Dream + Update On What's Going On With My Health

"Acceptance of one's life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of psychological complexes and injustices." Paul Tournier

When I was a little kid I use to gather the family pets, usually a dog and two cats, and pretend they were my children. I'd reenact what I thought it meant to be a mommy, usually based off of what I witnessed from my own mom, who was an incredible mommy by the way (still is!). I'd spend hours in mommy land cutting the crust off their imaginary peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

All I knew back then was no matter what, I was destined to be a mom.

I thought by twenty-two I should have been married and on my first child because that was what I knew. That was how it worked and that was how it happened for my mom. When that time came around and I hadn't achieved that I felt lost and like I had failed. 

As the years crept by and that story was nowhere near what my life looked like, the sadness got thicker and so did the feeling of failure. Then one day I met my now ex-husband and a twinkle of hope ignited within and I thought, "Yes, this is it. I'm finally going to be a mom."

When I couldn't get pregnant after two years of trying I once again found myself feeling as if I had failed and as if life had failed me too. Deep inside, in that place not many of us really like to go, I thought maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Maybe I had made God really mad and I was somehow being punished and undeserving of having my own children. 

When my marriage crumbled at the age of thirty-four a little part of that dream went with it. I started to see the clock tick faster then it was already ticking. When doctors advise you at the age of twenty-four to have a full hysterectomy, your clock becomes more like ticking time-bomb. You are constantly feeling as if it's gonna blow. However, I was still hopeful that I had time. I had time to meet someone, fall in love and get the white picket fence and the family to go with it. 

I had to because I wasn't quite ready to answer the question, "If I wasn't going to be a mommy, who was I going to be?" 

But life is an interesting loop of mysterious experiences that sometimes just don't seem to make sense. 

Over the last four years I've experienced several big disappointments and have had to dig beyond my comfort zone and begin asking those harder questions. And now, as my body begins this next process induced from radiation, I have no other choice to begin finding the answers to the one question I've been avoiding the most. 

What I'm finding is an honesty and a resistance I really wasn't ready.     

I'm realizing that it's time to start saying good-bye to that life-long dream and life has quite literally thrown me into it. Ready or not, too bad!  

And as much as I tell myself all the optimistic things like, I really enjoy my freedom and I enjoy doing what I want, when I want to, I realize that I need to honor that life-long dream and mourn the death of it properly. 

I need to stop pushing down my feelings and thoughts and face them head on. 

I need to acknowledge and mourn that:

I'll never experience the excitement of peeing on a stick and seeing the pink positive slowly begin to form and I'll never nervously get to share the news with my partner, eager to see the smile form on his face and the joy twinkle in his eyes. 

I'll never know what it's like to feel the first flutters of life growing inside of me or watch my belly swell as I transition from normal clothes into maternity. 

I'll never know what it's like to rush to the hospital mixed with fear and excitement as I wait for my body to start a process that it was literally created for. 

I'll never lay in the hospital bed, exhausted and tired, waiting for the first sounds of my son or daughter's life echoing around me until they are safely in my arms, meeting for the first time. 

I'll never experience those first moments and that is a thirty-seven year long dream I have to mourn properly. And at times, that feels like a pretty heavy burden to bare alone. 

One of the shitty things about illness is you have no control over the wake of destruction it creates in your life. It rips through taking out whatever it damn well pleases and you sit back and just watch it do so. It's a little surreal if you ask me.

Yes, we do have control over how we perceive things and our attitude towards them. We all have those choices. And believe me, I practice these things daily but I'm human. A very emotional and deeply feeling human who can't paint away my pain with affirmations and positive quotes. If I don't feel this experience fully, I, Amanda Whitworth, will disappear into a numbness and fog that I couldn't live with. So, I choose to lean into the pain, hoping with every ounce of my being, that it's the true answer to healing.   

I also recognize that I always had the choice to walk away from radiation treatment. However, to live with that fear of whether the cancer had already started creeping up my lymph nodes into my lungs wasn't something I could live with. Radiation was, in my opinion, the lesser of two evils. Just how great of an evil well, I'm only just now learning the truth of what that means. 

But now, as others get to share their first images of the black and white outline of what's growing inside their womb and welcome their brand new babies into the world, I'm having discussions of a hysterectomy with my oncologist and wondering how many nights a person can go without adequate sleep due to a pain that wakes her every hour, before she loses her mind. 

And I know, believe me when I say I know, there are other ways of being a mother. I also know I am so lucky to be alive but please, I beg you, stop saying this to me. I know it's out of love and support but all it does is make me question my own emotions and feelings. It riddles me with guilt. It makes me feel like I need to hide the truth and that makes me feel ugly. That makes the anger I'm feeling inside bubble out of control until sometimes, I'm shaking so much I scare myself. 

I find myself keeping to myself a lot these days because I'm scared of sharing this pain with others. I see their discomfort with it and how no one wants to really talk about it or how they just want to fix it with saying things like, "There are so many ways to be a mom!" Or, "At least you didn't have to have Chemotherapy." Or, "It could have been worse!." 

Don't ever say these things to someone going through something like this. We already know this. Believe me. We are dealing with the guilt and confusion every minute of every day. 

But I'm determined to find my way back out of the darkness. It's just going to take a little time. But I'll find my way back, I promise.  

I just need to spend some time saying good-bye and getting use to the idea that I'll never get to have my own kids. I've got to find a way to make peace with that. Real peace. And that will take time. 

And that means some days I'm going to be angry as hell at everything and some days I'm going to cry so much that my body hurts but that is okay. 

This has been a dark few months for me but I've still been able to see glimmers of light along the way. 

On the heels of losing two wonderful human beings in one week to this horrible thing called Cancer, I know just how lucky I am. But that doesn't mean I don't get to mourn my own loss. That doesn't mean I don't get to feel my own feelings for what I'm experiencing. It doesn't mean that I don't get to feel the deep pain as I adjust to my new world, my new reality, in a body that is riddled with pain all the time now, one that doesn't feel like mine at all. Because I do. I do get that. 

I will find my way back to optimism. I will find my way back to believing in the good of all circumstances and believing that maybe this is happening so I can do something with it to help others. I will find my way back to doing some of the things I loved doing before even if it looks and feels different now. I will find my way back, I promise. 

But right now I get to properly say good-bye no matter how dark I go and I beg you, please let me. 

So what is next?

Being diagnosed with a rare cancer has been an interesting experience. It's really hard to know where you belong when you still don't even know where this started. However, we did narrow it down to being related to Lynch Syndrome. 

Back in May I underwent genetic testing and my results came back positive for MSH2 gene mutation which is what we expected all along. It's one of two possibilities with Lynch Syndrome (Hereditary Non-polyposis Colorectal Cancer) and kind of a scary reality to deal with. (click here for more info) 

So what this means is I have a higher lifelong chance of developing colon, rectal, uterine and ovarian cancer as well as stomach, small intestine, liver, gallbladder duct, upper urinary tract, and brain. 

Given that this is my second experience at such a young age, my doctor is taken this search very seriously and I am most grateful for him and his determination. I will always be vigilant and on top of my screenings and tests because after meeting a women in the waiting room of my oncologist office who was diagnosed with the same thing as me but much further along, a tumor had already formed in her Vagina and she underwent Chemotherapy and radiation, and none of it worked. Her tumor is resistant to treatment. Last week they attempted to do radical surgery to remove her uterus, ovaries, bladder, anus and colon however, when her surgeon opened her up, he discovered that the tumor was too close to her pelvic wall and there was nothing he could do. And it scares me to think that this could one day be me. 

Radiation has left the left side of my body riddled with pain and I'm trying to figure out what to do now as it's becoming a bit debilitating and chronic. I'm trying to find others who are experiencing similar issues so I don't feel so alone in this because most people who've had radiation that I've come across in real like have bounced back rather easily. As the weeks go on, I'm having a harder time walking and now, sitting and lying in bed. 

I spent my Halloween meeting with a Urologist at Moore's Cancer Center to discuss a procedure I had on Tuesday afternoon to look at lining of my bladder and then in the evening, I had my CT scan. No signs of cancer in my bladder.

I had my PET scan yesterday and now, I just wait for the results to see if this pain is a result of radiation or if the lymph node in my sacrum was actually cancerous and now has grown. 

I will say this. Radiation is no joke and comparing it to Chemotherapy as if it is a lesser evil isn't fair. It is all horrible and it all comes with experiencing great loss. 

Every morning I wake up in a body that feels eighty and it takes me all day to feel like I can move somewhat normally again. The pain in my back and hip are unbearable. I have a whole new perspective for those who have lived a long time with chronic pain. So much compassion and love to you because this alone could make a person crazy. Throw on how tired I feel all the time, like I can't get enough sleep, and the hormonal changes I'm experiencing, well, feeling a bit crazy doesn't even do it justice. And it's not something to joke about because to those of us who are experiencing it, it's really traumatic and scary and very isolating. 

And now a lot of my thoughts these days are of trying to come to terms with and accept the decision I'm making to have a hysterectomy because I'll tell you what, not having to worry about Uterine and Ovarian cancer on top of the rest, would be really nice. 

However, I have to fully come to terms with this on my own and in my own time. But I know one thing for sure. I don't want to die from this one day. I don't want to make the wrong decision only to have it come back to bite me in the ass. (No pun intended...okay, I had to throw in a little humor!)

I know all of this is leading me to something. I'm starting to see that light again. In between all the messy and dark parts I'm still experiencing, I see the twinkle in the distance and it's beautiful. 

Depression, anxiety, darkness and the light: the process of becoming

In the middle of the journey of our life
I found myself within a dark woods
Where the straight way was lost. 
-- Dante Alighieri

I believe there comes a point in everyone's life when you feel lost and utterly derailed. There is a  moment, a season, a year or even years, where we are being asked to let go of what is known and step into the unknown, exploring ourselves on a deeper level. Will you listen? Will you answer the call from within and walk through the door of the unknown? 

---

Many people don't know this about me, including some of my closest friends and family, but I've struggled with depression and anxiety for most of my life. I'm actually pretty sure I came out of the womb in the middle of one giant anxiety attack and it never went away. 

Its varied over the years from crippling, can't get out of bed, massive amounts of fear and tears and paralyzing stillness and worry, to feeling just numb enough to put on a fake smile and exist. I'd show up and contribute to life all the while trying my best to hide my pain from others.

I've analyzed myself a lot over the years, questioning when and where this all began  At one point I feared I suffered from bipolar disorder after someone very close to me was diagnosed with it when I was in my teens. I've never admitted that out loud to anyone. But getting honest with yourself can be hard and I'd often shut down after getting to a certain point. 

But over the last few months I've dug deeper and had an incredible shift. What I have come to realize over the last few months is that my depression and anxiety stem from a lack of self acceptance and love for who I truly am. I have spent so many years wearing various masks trying to gain acceptance and validation from everyone else.  

Through therapy and Reiki over the last few months I've learned a tremendous amount about myself and have felt a beautiful shift within. It's subtle, but incredible and different. Its like nothing I've experienced before.  

 I'd like to share my story a bit more with the hope that maybe it will help you in some way. If you need it that is. 

I was a wildly dramatic child that felt everything. I was curious and full of wonder. I felt things much deeper then most people did and to this day, still do. I naturally watched and observed people with a fine eye and often knew things about them without them even having to tell me. I could feel and pick up on their energy very quickly and would take on their emotions without knowing what was happening. I had no idea what this meant back then but learned years later that I am an empath. 

Growing up I regularly heard from people closest to me that I was too sensitive, dramatic and emotional. As someone who already felt incredibly different then most kids around me, I was desperate to belong and be accepted and what I heard was that this side of me was unlovable. 

I too began to view this side of myself as unacceptable and unlovable and thus, shut er' down. The problem with shutting down one side of ourselves is that we replace it with something else. We replace it with what we think others will love and accept. That something else is built out of fear, a persona that was everything a sensitive person was not; hard, stoic, moody, and angry.

You don't want me as sensitive, kind and loving, well, okay then, maybe you'll love me and give me the attention I crave this way. And that was the mask I put on. 

Now, none of this was on a conscious level mind you. And, I don't believe those who constantly told me I was too sensitive meant any harm by it. They were merely uncomfortable with it for reasons that only they may, or may not know.  However, as a child or adolescent, we are just seeking love and acceptance, we are impressionable and trying to find meaning in the world and we'll mold ourselves in any way we possibly can to get that. 

However, at some point, and I do believe this happens to everyone, our authentic self is so desperate to be seen that this facade, the masks we put on so long ago, start to feel uncomfortable. So now we are caught in that middle place, fighting the in-between of what we know is safe and what we know to be real. 

So we grow anxious and worried and fearful and confused. There is a war going on inside of us and at this point, who wins depends on if we are truly ready to accept who we are ourselves. More or less, it depends on how aware we are of the fact that we are aloud to change. We are aloud to take off the mask and be who you were born to be. 

This is terrifying at first.

When you first realize you have the right to change, to grow and evolve. It's really f*&King scary. A lot of people stay right here, unable to move forward. Believe me when I say that I know this place very well. 

At a very early age I dabbling in self-discovery and personal development because from some intuitive place, I knew this was the way to the truth. This was the way, for me, to understand myself more, to heal and grow and overcome the darkness. I was, very much, lead down this path. I'd move forward, stay there awhile, then jump back to my place of comfort. 

Over the years I'd have moments of happiness, of feeling light and alive. This was when I felt connected to myself and my decisions and my choices reflected that. However, the darkness would always find it's way back in, creeping in like a fog rolling off the sea in the early morning. I would be left wondering if this was what my life would be like. Feeling lost and confused, desperate and unfulfilled. Would happiness always be fleeting? Would I never understand why I felt this way? 

I drifted forward in life, walking around in a confused state of wondering and questions started to surface. A lot of questions. Maybe you are or have been experiencing this too?

However, I had never experienced what I went through over the last few months. I guess the only way I've come to understand how to explain it is that is was some kind of awakening. A major shift on some level. All these questions were coming at me full speed and I finally had to courage to answer them truthfully. 

Whether you choose to start answering them depends on a lot of things but one of the greatest learnings I've taken away from the past few months of healing my depression and anxiety and from living with it for years is this; YOU HAVE TO FEEL IT TO HEAL IT.  

And this means feeling into some dark places. 

Abandonment, resentment, fear, lack of acceptance, betrayal, rage, not feeling enough, failure and the list goes on. 

But this is where we often stop. Right before we start to truly feel.  I mean, who really wants to feel? As a collective whole, we do just about anything to NOT feel. Human beings are incredible at not feeling. We have alcohol, drugs, sex, caffeine, sports, social media, gossip magazines, reality TV, and so on. 

One of the most powerful conversations I had in therapy so far was about this idea of feeling my pain. I believe we don't go to that place because we are so afraid that if we do, we'll never find our way out. We'll be eaten alive by the horrible pain.  

That was my biggest fear and why I avoided a lot of my pain for years. Admitting and ultimately, accepting the truths meant I could no longer settle to live within those stories anymore. It meant that I had to drop that mask, drop the act and find a different way of existing in the world. It meant possibly discovering things about those I love most that would change our dynamic, shake up our normal and who wants to be the person who does that? 

I knew I could survive with the way things were. Even with, at times debilitating depression and anxiety, I could survive because I had done so for most of my life. But something had shifted inside of me and I knew I couldn't avoid it any longer. 

This was a HUGE awakening for me because it shined a light on why I struggled with depression and anxiety. I had spent so many years wrapped up in so much anger for never feeling accepted for who I truly was. People closest to me wanted me to be different. They were uncomfortable with me being who I truly was, sensitive and emotional and too expressive, that I drowned out one of the most beautiful parts of me for one that I thought would be more lovable.

I realized I had so much subconscious resentment for others and for myself and I was scared to let that go. I was scared to drop the act because then I'd have to drop the story I have known my whole life. If I let go of that old story and accept the real version, it means that I was going to have to let them off the hook, forgive them and myself and truly show up in the world as me, whether people like it or not.  

The potential risk, the unknown, once again, feels so scary but so did staying where I was. The  old was too uncomfortable now. I'd grown out of that mask and I just couldn't bare the thought of putting on another one.

For the first time I want people to see me for who I really am. So here I sit, naked and raw, exposed to the elements ready to see what happens next. I don't want to go back and put on those old masks. 

And here is the thing, self-discovery isn't easy. Most, if not ALL of the time, it starts with a lot of pain. We are so afraid of the pain, aren't we? We will do anything to numb out the pain, thus, staying where we are. We'd rather live with our depression, anxiety, fear, and numbness then be seen for who we really are. 

It reminds me of this quote I stumbled upon:

Transformation isn't sweet and bright. It's a dark and murky, painful pushing. An unraveling of the untruths you've carried in your body. A practice in facing your own created demons. A complete uprooting before becoming." - Vicortia Erickson. 

 

But now the fun begins my friends; the becoming. Are you ready?