I’ve entered a new phase during my time in Germany. No longer with several appointments weekly at the clinic, and with some of the novelty diminished after over three months in Cologne, a severe depression befriended me earlier this week. I know this depression well. It has been a companion on and off for many years, and at least my entire adult life. I’ve tried to escape, appease, and move through this depression with travel, socializing, dysfunctional relationships, reading, writing, exercising, various forms of therapy, and countless other strategies. Run more, I cannot.

I chose to stay in Cologne for my entire six-month treatment plan. There are other very important reasons for me to stay in Cologne for over six months. I needed to get away from everyone and everything familiar. I needed to be on my own so I could see myself more clearly. I needed to experience isolation of self. I needed to have the space to gain new insights into life and who I am. I needed room to tap into my own needs, and cultivate better strategies for self-care. I am on the path to accomplishing all of these things and more.

My life in Germany has allowed me to slow down. The treatments themselves have slowed me down. Not understanding or speaking the language has slowed me down. Being thousands of miles from everything familiar has slowed me down. Not having a car here has slowed me down. Having very little money has slowed me down. Not giving out my telephone number to a lot of people has slowed me down. Not doing as much email has slowed me down. Ensuring that I have time alone each week has slowed me down.

Only in stillness can I see myself with clarity. And in my stillness, I’m recently feeling what can be labeled as depression. What am I depressed about? Well, I have a brain tumor recurrence, but that doesn’t usually depress me as much as one might think. In moments, I’m depressed I’m not a “normal” 32 year old with a normal job, normal friendships, normal romances, normal activities on week nights and weekends, normal vacations during the year, and on a normal trajectory toward investing in a first home and retirement. Well, I do some of those things. I work. I spend time with friends. I date. I go out to restaurants, bars, and cafes. I shop and vacation, but don’t have money right now for either.

Of course, I recognize there is no such thing as normal. There is no “should be this or should be that,” except for those fabricated and imposed by society and self. And yet, I feel different, estranged, isolated, and weird. Maybe that is my depression. Not feeling like I fit into the world. Yes, back to that old theme. I’m coming to learn it is the central theme of my life.

I haven’t found a solution to my depression yet (not in the last week, or since I started writing this blog). But, there is progress to report. I am sitting with my depression more. I am befriending it. I am asking myself what I need in the midst of it. I am discovering how to push through it when that seems most appropriate, and when I need to be with myself on a deeper level. I am learning self-care. I am finding ways to give myself the tenderness that I have so often sought from others.

And, I am realizing that I experience varied qualities of depression. One is just from being overtired, another from overwhelm about living in Germany and/or from the physical experience of cancer treatments, another from abandoning my needs and myself in the process, and another from disconnect, uncertainty, and existential loneliness.

Closing the front door of my apartment this morning, I had a flashing thought of self-recognition that I was tight and lacking flexibility. You know those flashing thoughts of recognition that move through the mind at lightening speed and are so often forgotten in the next moment. Well, I wanted to remember that one. For one, psychologists have referred to flexibility as a sign of healing in the Type C individual. I also recognized my flash of awareness as truth. I’m not feeling flexible lately. My mind, especially, hasn’t been flexible.

But, how can someone be flexible with so many demands? I am deeply dedicated to my healing, and yet I’ve learned that healing encompasses demand upon demand. Am I eating the right foods? Eating raw vegetables? Juicing? Thinking healing thoughts? Feeling? Expressing myself? Expressing the full range of my feelings in all directions? Acknowledging my anger? Forgiving and letting go? Resting? Engaging in activity? Exercising? Moving? Being still? Connecting with others? Scheduling alone time? Engaging my spirituality? Meditating? Using healing imagery? Journaling? Reading about health care and healing? Reading for leisure? Having fun? Making money? Breathing deeply? Loving myself? Loving others? Cultivating peace within? No, no, no. I am going ****** crazy with all of these demands. My mind literally feels like it is going to explode. I cannot continue living this way.

In Cancer as a Turning Point, a book that I’ve quoted several times in my blogs, Dr. LeShan advocates for focusing on what is right instead of what is wrong. Sadly, my tendency has been more with the latter, and instead I want to focus on what is right. I know that how I relate to life is a choice.

I can laugh, and I can cry. When I need to cry, I will do just that. I also want to laugh much more. I want to feel joy and delight. I want to love. I want to have tears of enchantment for the beauties, perfections, and divine pleasures of this physical incarnation. I want to feel innocence and reclaim my childhood joy. I want to play like my three year three month old nephew James John, and my seven month old niece Anna Kate. They are my teachers.

To Whom It May Concern:

Over the last year, I’ve been learning a lot about the psychology of cancer patients. There is a personality, or more accurately, a coping style of the Type C individual. Type C stands for CANCER. This coping style features repression of emotions, needs, and sense of self. This repression compromises the immune system and contributes to a disease state.

Some of you that know me may be surprised to learn I fit into this profile. For most of my life, I have altered my behavior depending on my environment. I have transformed my sense of self to match those around me as I’ve sought external love and approval. Or, I have completely rebelled when my surroundings suggested I conform. However, these behaviors have become old and must end. No more. I say, no more.

As I enter my self-emancipation, and actualization, I offer important declarations to the world. I’ll try to make it constructive. Well, I’m going to be more honest than nice.

To each person that has ever told me not to express my emotions, don’t tell me what I can say and cannot say, what I can feel and cannot feel. I will express myself whenever, wherever, and however I choose.

To each person that has ever tried to blame me for something they did, learn to own your experiences. Don’t tell me I’m responsible for your inability to maintain your sense of self, and express that sense of self for yourself. I will not take on what belongs to you.

To each person that has ever attempted to impose his or her beliefs onto me, I will not participate in your co-dependency. I am a sovereign being with unique beliefs and perspectives that may differ from yours. In healthy relationships, that is respected.

To each person that has ever been rude and condescending to me, and I didn’t stand up for myself, I will not take your bullshit. I consider it shameful that your sense of self is so diminished that you feel compelled to elevate yourself by putting other people down. I pity you.

To each person that has ever invaded my personal space, you had absolutely no right to do that. My personal space is sacred and must be honored.

To each person that has ever indicated I should share aspects of my personal life when I chose not to, learn some boundaries and focus on your own life.

To each person that has stopped contacting me as I’m dealing with illness, it is unfortunate that you have no idea how to even marginally show up for someone fighting for life. It is saddening that so many people are afraid of their own mortality, and run away from those who have disease instead of viewing the relationship as an opportunity for personal growth. And, it could be you. Most of us don’t escape illness, and none of us escape death.

To each person that has said they would help me and support my journey in specific ways, and then didn’t, please, think before telling me you are going to support my life.

To each person that has ever judged me for using “alternative” medicine over the years and seeking health care outside of the conventional paradigm, you might really want to educate yourself about health care in the United States, including the state of cancer care. If you think that the United States of America has the most advanced medical system in the world, you are simply wrong. Read my story. And once you’ve educated yourself, you can write me a note and express your appreciation for what you’ve learned, and for my life.

To each person that has ever dishonored my authentic needs and emotions when I’ve expressed them, don’t expect the same relationship dynamics from my end. I will not abandon myself. And if that means walking away from you, so be it.

In summary, I offer a few words of warning to the world. Don’t expect me to be “kind” and “good” all the time. Honesty and authenticity may, on occasion, breed what appears as the opposite.

And for anyone out there really listening, if you want to help, encourage me to be authentic. Invite me to express my needs and emotions. That will support my healing process. The stakes are too high. Life is too short. It is on my terms now.

Sincerely,
Jeannine Walston

Moving beyond the three-month anniversary since my arrival in Germany, I’m feeling more adjusted to daily life in a foreign country in the midst of cancer treatments. I don’t know that I’ll ever adjust to the experience of cancer treatments though. The needles, poking, prodding, incessant self-monitoring of how I’m feeling, tracking my treatment schedule, incorporation of new therapies, along with just being a patient continues to stress me sometimes. I’ve broken into tears on the treatment table at the clinic several times over the last month.

My treatment schedule will slow down later in September. I’m slated to only have treatments for about one week per month for the final three months of my core immunotherapy protocol. Although part of me looks forward to fewer treatments at the clinic, I also have fear about graduating into this new phase. When I receive treatments, I feel like I’m actively doing something against the disease and in support of my health. I show up at the clinic, and I’m given medicine. Now, I’ll need to give myself medicine. I’m not referring to pills or injections. Part of giving myself medicine involves my ongoing creation of a deeper balance within, a sense of equanimity. To create a firm foundation so that no matter what happens in my life, I always have strength and peace within myself. And as I strive to cultivate more equanimity, I know that I must experience more joy. My life often feels so very serious, and more levity is in order.

Healing is a multi-dimensional process. In Cancer as a Turning Point, Lawrence LeShan, PhD, skillfully conveys how psychological and lifestyle changes toward a zest for life mobilize the immune system. He refers to researchers searching for medical treatments that may activate the body’s immune system against cancer. LeShan distinguishes between research into how molecules interact in the biological systems and human action. He wrote, “The method concerns people taking control over their own life- of searching for a life-style especially suited for them and, when found, actively working toward living this life. For many individuals, this requires a complete restructuring of their thinking about themselves. A very large number of us grew up oriented toward what we should do rather than what we would enjoy doing; toward what we should want in our life rather than what we really want. Our actions are usually based on these “shoulds” rather than on the question of “what would fulfill me- what style of being, relating, creating would bring me to a life of zest? This is the life, this life, and the search for it, that mobilizes the immune system against cancer more than anything else we know today.” (Please note that Dr. LeShan’s wrote this in the early 1990s.)

In my August 23rd blog, I shared my struggle in connecting the internal with the external through my question, “How do I fit into the world?” Dr. LeShan advocates that the real question goes as follows: “How does the world fit into me?” Dr. LeShan wrote, “What kind of life would they be living if they adjusted the world to themselves instead of- as our (cancer) patients generally have done- adjusted themselves to the world?”

As I ponder how the world fits into me, I reflect on how I’ve actively engaged life and experienced joy since my arrival in Germany. On the most basic level, I’m joyful that I’m here with the opportunity to receive immunotherapy treatments. And I’m joyful that I’ve successfully navigated moving to another country where I don’t speak the language while receiving cancer treatments.

In hindsight, times that were frustrating or overwhelming now seem quite humorous, and even joyful.

Like when I was at the post office and not one postal employee spoke any English. I had to turn around to the long line of waiting customers and shout, “Does anyone speak English?”

Like when I was at an “immigration office” in Cologne making a formal request to remain in the country beyond the three months of stay legally permitted of U.S. citizens in Germany, and the immigration employee said with seriousness that she had to consult with her chef. (In German, chef means boss.) I wanted to say, “Great, and while your at it, can you ask your chef to make me a raw vegetarian entrée and a side salad?”

Like when I weigh myself at the gym and I have no idea what the scale says because it is in kilograms!

Like when I was invited to Bonn by my friend Susanne for a fantastic city tour and dinner in her home. Among other very cool sites in and around Bonn, I saw the home where Beethoven was born.

Like when my mother visited me in July and we spent ten days of quality time together, during which I saw her, and perhaps for the first time, more as a human being versus my mother.

Joy is often coupled with gratitude.

Like when my friend Lena picked me up at the airport and invited me to stay in her home.

Like when my friend Anveshi helped me purchase my beloved bicycle that I use to go everywhere in Cologne.

Like when my friend Asmi’s boyfriend Günter contacted his friend Udo who was gearing up to leave Cologne for eight months. On September 1st, I began subletting Udo’s amazing flat in a wonderful area of Cologne. And my friend David graciously helped me move, as well as communicated on my behalf with Deutsch Telecommunications to disconnect my telephone and Internet in my old apartment.

And I’m joyful observing Germany moving out of its painful past. Even though Germany’s last war ended over sixty years ago, the Holocaust weighs heavily upon Germans today. Nobody in Germany ever says they are proud to be German. The World Cup soccer games hosted by Germany earlier this summer showcased the first public displays of national pride since World War II.