On my first day in outpatient treatment, the group was asked to sit back in our chairs with our feet on the floor and close our eyes. Defusion: The strategy that changed my life ![]() It was the first baby step I took in the gradual, glacial process of feeling like myself again. But I had reached a breaking point - my illness was uncontrollable, and I urgently needed help. And like I suspect is common of most women, I had made a bad habit of minimizing my illness. Like a full 18 percent of the population, I had - and still have - an anxiety disorder. Post-cancer, every twinge or ache would send me reeling into hysteria and diving under my covers. I reasoned that my body had become a dangerous place, a minefield of things that could pop up and flatten me without warning. My panic attacks - which presented as an overwhelming feeling of absolute terror - were lasting hours and hours each day, and soon I was spending most of the day crying in bed. And in February 2017, just a month after my bladder cancer surgery, that's exactly what happened. Where a kidney stone might take an excruciating day or two to pass, anxiety could leave me bedridden for days or even weeks, totally non-functional. Ironically, my anxiety has been the most ruthless ailment to date. My bladder tumor was resected in an outpatient surgical procedure and (knock on wood) I've gotten clean scans ever since. The second test revealed a four-millimeter lump on the outer wall of my bladder - and it was malignant.įortunately for me, these health issues have all been pretty resolvable: After giving up added sugar cold-turkey, I dropped fifteen pounds in two months and my kidney function improved. The first test - a routine urinalysis – showed that my kidneys were hemorrhaging protein, a sign of potential kidney disease or diabetes. Throughout all of this, a latent anxiety disorder sprouted, and then bloomed.īut at age 29, a battery of tests revealed two new problems inside my body, and I suddenly reached the limit of what I felt like I could endure, physically and psychologically. ![]() Then, at twenty-five, my unborn son was diagnosed with a permanently paralyzing disability. (If you've never had the misfortune of trying to squeeze out a kidney stone over a squat toilet, consider yourself lucky). At twenty, I underwent emergency surgery for a kidney stone obstruction while I was studying abroad in southern India. At fifteen, I was hospitalized with ovarian cysts - giant, fluid-filled sacs that would spontaneously rupture and leave me vomiting and doubled over in pain within a matter of minutes. Throughout my teens and the entirety of my twenties, it seemed like I was weathering one health-related disaster after another.
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