The title of this post was inspired by a piece of work I was nowhere near clever enough to create, “What Do You Do With The Mad That You Feel?”, a song written and sung by Fred Rogers.
You know, Fred Rogers, the creator of the national treasure that is “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood?”
The song’s message is all about helping children embrace and normalize that intense emotion known as ANGER, with lyrics so compelling they worked MAGIC in the effort to support funding for PBS and the corporation for Public Broadcasting in response to significant proposed cuts by President Nixon.
I’d been mulling over the focus, tone and content of the inaugural blog post for my new project/initiative/movement when I heard a story on NPR about this song; a song I’m embarrassed to admit I’d never heard.
The irony wasn’t lost on me – and I thank the universe for connecting me with THAT exact song at THAT exact moment. It is eerily perfect for my inaugural post.
The “mad” that I feel, while nowhere near gone, yet mercifully now somewhat assuaged simply through the passing of time, had become in the months following my breast cancer diagnosis and surgery, corrosive.
Corrosive to the point where the intensity began to scare even me.
It was around that time when I ordered (in an oh-so-loving sort of way) my husband to purchase and hang a heavy bag in our garage. I needed to move the anger through my body by a forceful means that didn’t involve other humans; just me, that punching bag, loud music and direct, forceful physical contact. Contact with something firm, yet at the same time yielding to my need for relief, calm, focus, release.
Another thing that I needed – and I knew this beyond the shadow of a doubt from practically the first minute of my diagnosis – was to somehow use what had happened to me in a way that would make a difference. I simply couldn’t go through the most horrific experience of my entire life without wringing every ounce of meaning and (hopefully) inspiration out of it – not only for myself, but others as well. And in order for it to begin to make any sort of sense, I needed to somehow meld it with my existing work, to build on the professional platform I’d spent years developing, because quite frankly? The synergy and irony was impossible to ignore.
I know I’m not the first woman diagnosed with breast cancer (and unfortunately certainly won’t be the last) intent on sharing my story with the world in order to make a difference. It happens with alarming frequency. Alarming not because all of these women have nothing to say or add, but exactly BECAUSE all of these women have something to say and add. There are TOO many of us, and we’re multiplying daily – hourly, in fact.
I actually asked myself, “Seriously, does the world really need ANOTHER breast cancer story?
And this is how I responded to myself; “I would seriously like to be THE LAST breast cancer story, as in, there are no more to share. But as that is highly unlikely any time in the near future, let’s look at it another way. While the world may or may not need ANOTHER breast cancer story, it needs YOUR breast cancer story. You need to lend your voice and your expertise to a conversation that is desperately all too common. And crushing. And constant.”
On another level, it’s also a way to give back. I am beyond lucky, and I feel an extraordinary sense of obligation to contribute, in the ways I know best, to the women (and men) who are not as fortunate as I, with my “vanilla” breast cancer diagnosis.
Blending the nutrition, food, fitness and psychology of self-care is my area of expertise. I happen to know both personally and professionally that whether you’re interested in potentially reducing your risk of an initial breast cancer diagnosis, managing or recovering from breast cancer treatment, dealing with the unique challenges of metastatic breast cancer, or show NED (no evidence of disease) and are looking to potentially reduce your risk of recurrence, you can benefit from each of these areas.
So here I go.
I’ve committed to channeling the “mad that I feel” into something good, stepping outside the comfort zone of my own breast cancer anonymity, and trusting that what I have to share is useful, impactful, meaningful. If my message speaks only to one person, so be it, yet my hope is that it STARTS with one, then reaches many more. That would make me hysterically, insanely happy – in a really good way.
Breast cancer is a vicious sniper, randomly picking us off one by one by one, completely disinterested in our careers, families, goals, dreams, lives. Doesn’t care, doesn’t discriminate, doesn’t spare anyone. Regardless of what “flavor” breast cancer you have/had, there’s no denying it’s a mother of a ride.
We need protection. We need to duck and cover.
We need to Bite Back. Move Back. Strike Back.
And that is the essence of my work and effort. Thank you for joining me as I take the first step.