A Valuable Lesson I Learned While Living With Breast Cancer

Bonnie Annis is a breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in 2014 with stage 2b invasive ductal carcinoma with metastasis to the lymph nodes. Catch up on all of Bonnie's blogs here!

Normally, I’m not a negative person. In fact, I’m completely the opposite – a Pollyanna, always looking for the good in situations. That was the way I was long before cancer entered my life, but when I was diagnosed, things changed. I began to see little bits of negativity emerge.

When I was about halfway through radiation, my skin began to burn and peel. Little thoughts would creep in telling me I was going to be irreversibly scarred for life, that I wouldn’t be the same. I knew the surgical incisions would be with me forever and the radiation burns, too, but I wasn’t prepared for the mental scarring. A little voice started to tell me I wasn’t good enough, I was less than, and I started to listen. That was the first mistake. I should have known better.

Throughout recovery, I was bombarded with thoughts and emotions. I found myself focusing on problems and things I couldn’t do. I became frustrated and often found myself crying. I never said, “Woe is me,” out loud, though I felt like saying it. I wanted others to understand how I was feeling. I wanted them to grasp the overwhelming sadness of my situation, but who could understand looking in from the outside? The overwhelming feelings screamed, “It’s time for a pity party!” Guess who found herself going? Me.

The first pity party I attended didn’t last long. I shook it off and told myself I’d be okay. I thought I could handle it, but more invitations came – especially on days when I was tired or in physical pain. I quickly accepted the invitations and before I realized it, I was wallowing in a pit of despair, one so deep, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to climb out.

Instead of asking for help, I did some online research on ways to cope with feelings of hopelessness, doubt, and negativity. I found some good information and started to implement it.

The next time I felt down in the dumps and got an invitation, I decided to attend the party but only for a few minutes. I needed to validate my feelings, I thought, then I’d leave. It felt good to know I had the power to choose the length of time I attended. After realizing that, I found how easy it was to shift my focus to something else, so I didn’t focus solely on my health issues. I could journal or take a walk. I could find healthy ways of moving through feelings without getting stuck in a never-ending cycle of self-pity.

I realized I had the power to choose how I’d react when those whispers of “No one cares about you,” came and it felt good. It wasn’t easy at first. It took practice, but limiting the time I felt sorry for myself was a good beginning.

To this day, eleven years post-diagnosis, I still get invitations to pity parties. I won’t lie, sometimes I accept them readily. I’ll sit in my closet and cry over my breastlessness, or the terrible heaviness lymphedema causes in my limbs, but then I tell myself, “That’s enough! Be thankful you’re alive!” And when I hear myself saying those words, I shake myself out of it, dry my tears, and get busy doing something productive.

Pity parties aren’t healthy. They’re downright dangerous and if you stay too long, you’ll more than likely regret it.

Parties are supposed to be fun, not filled with sadness and regret. If you receive an invitation to a pity party, respond with a fast no thank you. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.

Breast cancer can become a convenient excuse for many things, but please don’t let it extend invitations to pity parties. As a survivor, you’ve already proven you have the strength to overcome, don’t let whispered invitations to pity parties ruin that superpower.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective as a breast cancer survivor. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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