I like to think I know myself pretty well. I’ve worked hard with my therapist to be able to take a step back and figure out the why when I act self-destructively. That way I can make an informed decision about whether I want to continue doing whatever I was doing that isn’t healthy for me. If I pivot from the mindless act to a mindful act, even if that act is to continue my unhealthy behavior, I feel more in control of whatever feeling is motivating me. It can take a day or two but I usually catch it fairly quickly.
Not this time. About six months ago, I had a breast cancer scare. And it was scary. Really scary. There’s a lot of bad that can come at me from the diabetes and my other established conditions. Those invoke a sense of weary resignation now rather than fear. But this was completely out of left field. I didn’t expect it. I was not prepared.
The timeline of the initial appointments felt excruciatingly long as I waited for the second set of tests to say whether it was actually cancer. I was enormously relieved when I got the good news, and didn’t think too much about the six-month confirmation mammogram. I took the second appointment as the authoritative off-the-hook.
Or so I thought. Apparently, my subconscious was not so convinced. I missed the signs because I didn’t expect them – the unhealthy eating, the building mess in my apartment, the procrastination at work that could have had negative consequences. I have learned that these are the things that indicate that my mental health is getting a little choppy and requires some attention.
It went on for weeks as the appointment approached. I thought it was just a part of my long struggle to get back to a healthy regimen. But not tracking my food intake isn’t the same as eating an entire bag of cookies in one sitting. And while I am not the best housekeeper, I’m not usually that bad. I was starting to need a flashlight to get to the bathroom without tripping on something. It was that bad.
Finally, after a horrible night’s sleep the day before my appointment, realization dawned. I was anxious and scared.
Shoulda known. I’ve gone through similar things around some of the worst traumatic things that I have survived. Most of them happened between late February and late March, so my psyche starts gearing up for the emotional assault a couple of months before that. Suddenly I want to hide, hibernate, and eat my feelings. It’s always difficult to control those impulses, but I can handle it when I expect it. This time, I thought the trauma had passed so I didn’t expect any more. And, because I didn’t expect it, I didn’t handle it.
Honestly, I’m a little angry at myself. The signs of my anxiety were all there, but I wasn’t paying attention. But the second round of relief definitely outweighs the second round of anxiety. And I think I get points for catching it. Eventually.
I guess when it comes down to it, it really is better late than never.