Aging Out on National Cancer Survivors Day

Here it is National Survivors Day and all I can think about is how I’m aging out.

I’m aging out of the AYA community.

I’m aging out of the dating game.

I’m aging out of this post-cancer body.

I’ve been in medically induced menopause since 2017. Going through breast cancer definitely aged my body but being medically induced into menopause shoved me all way into serious aging both internally and externally. The only part of my body that has never changed is the shape of my eyes. Everything else is no longer even close to what I used to know.

(Left to right)
Me 5 years ago on day of breast cancer surgeries; day after breast cancer surgeries; Me last week!

I posted a video on my Instagram earlier this week about my menopausal hair. I finally threw in the towel and got it severely chopped off after a year of trying to grow it out. I truly thought once the chia pet tight curls fell away, that I would look like myself again. Instead, my hair began to look stringy and thin. It literally stopped growing on the right side and in the back. I was beginning to look lopsided because the left side of my hair was going back beautifully. Getting this radical cut was an uncomfortable decision for me but needed to be done.

Me this week having too much fun with the app Easysnap!

There’s an illusion that we’re in control of our bodies. When going through cancer and having a chronic illness, it is plain to see I have little control over anything, especially my body. I had gotten back into exercising but suddenly stopped due to fibromyalgia pain in my back. It was so bad that I couldn’t sleep or move without wanting to cry. Now I’m back to trying to get motivated to workout. The belly fat is my nemesis. I don’t even want to take any full-length pictures because of my whale shaped body.

So, I’m aging out of many categories that used to feel somewhat natural and supportive. Instead of being one of the “young” ones in a group, I am often the oldest person in the group. Making friends as an adult is hard. Making friends as a single adult past a certain age feels impossible. I’ll be checking a new age box on my birthday which is July 3rd. This thought has thrown me into a complete panic and despair. The bulk of the people I know are married or living with someone and have kids. The few single people I do know already have a strong friend group. The wish to hang out with friends on a consistent basis is over. No one has time anymore.

Aside from having zero sex drive, I’ve become way to set in my ways to make room for a relationship. Heck, I had hard enough time when I had the hot body to find someone who didn’t look at me like an alien because I’m difficult to classify and don’t fit any typical categories. I continue to straddle between the black and white world without fully fitting into either.

I am five years no evidence of disease (NED). It just hit me this is the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Will NED be with me forever? Do I want to live with NED with such a low quality of life? While my brain is sharper than it was five years ago, my body has yet to catch up. How much of this aging is natural? I think zero because I feel like a 544-year-old on a daily basis. I just don’t necessarily show it in selfies or on zooms because of acting. I win daily Oscars, Emmy, Golden Globe, and Tony awards.

Can anyone even tell when I’m faking and when I’m being real?

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Is dating off the table?

This question is more complex than it was before cancer.  I honestly don’t know what to think anymore. I’ve heard of others meeting “the one” during treatment and after. I’m boggled by that.

Who has the energy?

Who has the sex drive?

Who has the funds?

I’ve been a body I don’t recognize since my 35th birthday, which is when I believe the cancer started growing. That’s when my thyroid got out of whack and major weight gain occurred. Even though my energy was somewhat lacking, I was still dating back then.

I’ve had my heart shattered once and deeply hurt once. I had begun to date myself and take time for personal growth when the cancer beast reared its ugly head. Dating was not even a remote thought once the cyclone of appointments swept me up.

I’ve been 43 years old for a month and starting to feel lonely. My life has been so busy trying to heal, battling long-term side effects from chemo, surgeries and radiation, serious depression and anxiety, chronic pain, medical leave, then more surgery and now I’ve had time to really process all that has happened since the cancer call on 9/14/15.

Things won’t magically become all right once I meet the ‘right’ guy.

I can’t expect to find happiness through someone.

I can’t keep waiting for someone to take care of me.

I don’t think like the woman I once was either. I’m jaded. I don’t even watch romance movies anymore. I used to be a sucker for those. I don’t read trashy romance books anymore either.

It’s like a light switch was turned off once I was medically induced into menopause at 40. Losing so many body parts all at once did something to me. I feel hollow. The only thing that makes me still feel like a woman are my tears.

I hear all the time “the right man will love you at your worst.” Well, I think many of you will agree that men are very visual creatures. Sure, I have a pretty face, but not a pretty body.

My body is scarred.

My body is numb in certain areas.

My body radiates and burns with pain.

My body is out of shape and struggling.

My body is utterly fatigued.

How can I date in such a low physical state? It was hard facing rejection when I was stick thin. I sure as hell can’t handle rejection looking and feeling like this.

I also realized that I can’t date a regular guy. I’ve nearly died. I’ve been through something life shattering and life altering. How do I make small talk about trauma? I don’t think lightly anymore.

Does that mean I need to meet someone also has/had cancer in order to relate? Hmm…

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie