Part 4: Mental Health

Therapy

        My mom raised me to really value mental and emotional wellness so I regularly go to therapy even when things are great because it helps me learn about myself. I had been going to therapy once every 3 weeks, but after my diagnosis, I changed it to every week. While in California, I’ve been seeing a psychologist through City of Hope who specializes in helping people navigate the transplant process. So that’s been great and I highly recommend everyone, with or without AA, to talk to a therapist if they can!

        My psychologist has also been helpful in talking through the stress dreams that started the night before I left for California. Even though during my waking hours I feel good, I am clearly still really stressed out. My dreams reveal that I am stressing about my self-image (namely, bald head and being underweight for the first time in my life), my stay in California (the dream was that I was being held hostage by people who were saying I was there for my own good), and my performance moving forward (the dream involved taking a test that I didn’t understand and was running out of time while everyone else already finished). There’s a lot to work through! I did not think this was the most stressful thing I’ve ever gone through, but I think I’m starting to realize that it is.

Self-Love 

        I made huge life changes and learned to love myself for the first time in 2020. I did a lot of work on myself that year and it was unbelievably life-changing. I don’t know how I would have been able to get through 2021 if I hadn’t done all that work. Some people insisted that I should take medications for anxiety and depression because of the situation I was in. There is no shame at all in taking such medications, but I knew that I was not depressed and that my anxiety was manageable. I was actually surprised at how I was coping with everything.

        Part of self-love is feeling and expressing one’s emotions openly (when it’s safe). When I wasn’t strictly in survival mode, I thought about what was happening and I cried. For the first time, I was aware that what was currently happening to me, especially a lot of what happened in the hospital, was traumatic. I named it for what it was in the moment. I never used to cry in front of people because I thought it made me look weak. But now I think it makes me strong that I can do that without feeling little (and it doesn’t matter to me if other people think I look weak because I know I’m not).

Writing and Drawing

        In addition to therapy and plain old introspection, journaling has always helped me express and understand myself. Writing is a big part of my healing journey. This long account of my experience and what I’ve learned is as much for me as it is for others. I also recently discovered that I can actually draw pretty well. My second drawing, after a self-portrait that helped solve some self-image issues, was a Christmas present for my step-dad who shaved his head the same day as me as a surprise. I drew both of us next to each other with shaved heads wearing shirts that said “Shaved Heads Club 2021” in a Rock n’ Roll style font. My psychologist pointed out that I use drawing as a tool for healing and to emphasize my strengths.

Moving Forward

        It’s no secret that I am itching to get the heck out of here and go home. I understand that GVHD could be looming around the corner, but there is no sign of it (thank goodness). I’m sure my doctors don’t intend this, but I feel like they are telling me that I am weak because they focus on all the things I can’t do and how compromised my immune system is, and how even when I stop taking the immune-suppressing medication, my immune system won’t be what it once was. They say I am as much at risk of infection now as I was before my transplant. I get what they are saying but I do not see any of this reflected in reality and, frankly, I don’t accept it at face value. I don’t feel weak at all and I don’t intend to let the transplant act as a hindrance to doing anything I want. My immune system has a lot to learn, but I’m not going to let it stop me from living a better and fuller life than ever before. Of course I will continue taking all the necessary precautions regardless of the conditions of the pandemic.

        Notwithstanding the headstrong paragraph above, I’m still anxious and scared. I’m nervous about going home where I live alone with my dog, because last time I was there, I couldn’t cook for myself or stand in the shower for more than a few minutes. I’m anxious about going back to work and feeling like I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m scared of getting sick. I’m scared that the guy I like won’t accept me without my wig. The list goes on.

        I am also nervous to tell my doctor my decision to leave on February 1. But then I remember that I am a grown adult in charge of my own life. I am very lucky and extremely grateful for all the opportunities I have had and for all the opportunities that lie ahead. I don’t subscribe to the second birthday idea of the transplant, but I cannot deny that November 12, 2021 marked the end of me and the beginning of me in some ways. I am moving forward with a new lease on life and I am going to live like hell.