Mindfulness is awesome, except when you have cancer

Growing up, I was an easy going, laid back, free-spirited little pup. This was, I imagine, largely due to my a very stable, comfortable upbringing. The things I worried about were what kinds of snacks my mom would bring back from the grocery store, or if my sister would steal my favorite article of clothing from my closet, or if my dad would lay down the law that I would have to start filling up the gas in my car with my own money. 

My "chill, man, it'll all work out" attitude lasted until about my junior year of college. Part of it was probably a maturity thing -- bills have to be paid on time! Groceries are actually pretty expensive! If I don't clean my room I'll get bugs! Part of it was also realizing that I would be graduating from college soon, which meant that I would be truly out of the nest and would need to decide on some life plans ASAP. The last factor I credit towards my transformation from hippie chic to (lovable) Type A control freak was studying critical theory in Paris. Nothing like a little depressing European philosophy to put you over the edge!

While I think that this new outlook has helped me become a more responsible, self-sufficient individual, it has also, you can imagine, brought a lot more stress into my life. Rather than living in the moment, I am strategizing for the future. Rather than just assuming things will work out, I assume they won't work out unless I do A, B, and C. This modus operandi is the same as millions of adults all over the world, which is why someone like Woody Allen can make an entire career out of his neuroticism. People relate!

Biologically, there is a reason for this -- cue Psychology 101 lesson: Our brains are constantly surveying external stimuli for potential threats. In cave man days, this might be an angry saber tooth tiger. Today, our chances of being attacked by an angry saber tooth tiger have gone down considerably, thanks to the arrival of civilization and all that comes with it (I imagine extinction helped, too). However, evolutionarily speaking, our brains lag behind, and are still wired in the same fight-or-flight way for a world that no longer exists. Since we are not constantly being chased by wild beasts, this fight-or-flight mode generally translates into anxiety.

So, how do we train our minds to live in a world they are biologically not ready for? How can we help our minds rationally evaluate what is a threat and what is not? How can we find our zen in the midst of chaos? Medication? Therapy? Religion?

My trick has been mindfulness meditation. Since my brain's natural state is to wander -- yours probably is too -- which can lead to feelings of stress or anxiety, I have to consciously tell it to calm down and come back into the moment. Meditation is how I do this. Taking a few minutes out of the day -- or, let's be realistic, week, if you're like me and often forget and/or "don't have time"-- to just sit back, breathe, and enjoy the moment really does wonders for one's mental health.

While I have incorporated meditation into my life for the past few years, it is easy to get wrapped up in life and sort of forget to take those extra few minutes to center myself. I have noticed this to be especially the case since starting treatment for The Hodge.

My pre-cancer life was pretty stable. I was living in a great neighborhood in Brooklyn with my boyfriend, I had a job I enjoyed, and I had a great five year plan, which involved going back to graduate school. I was even in the process of breaking Scott down to get a dog! Yeah, I would get anxious about the future and have a quarter life crisis now and then, but overall I think I was doing a great job of being present and living my life in a healthy, productive way.

Then, the diagnosis came and everything changed instantly. I had to quit my job, move out of my apartment, leave the East Coast, where I had been living the last three and a half years, and move back to Minnesota to live with my parents. Suddenly, everything I had been working for, both personally and professionally, had to be put on hold.

"Hey, it will almost be like a 6 month vacation! You'll have time to catch up on The Wire and read all the books you've been wanting to read but never had time for," people would say to help me feel better. "Think of this as your extended 'Me Time' You can relax! You can be mindful."

The thing is, I don't want to be mindful -- at least not like this. If there would ever be a time in your life when you would not want to slow down and just be present with your thoughts, it'd be when you're going through cancer. You don't want to 'live in the moment' when you feel like shit. What you want it is to fast forward a few months to when you're done with treatment and you don't feel like shit. You want to go back to your regular life.

But at the same time, constantly thinking about my post-treatment future -- will I stay in Minnesota or go back to New York? Where will I work? Will I still go to grad school? -- is exhausting, especially since I'm still too early in my treatment to know if it is even working.

So what's a gal to do? Is it possible to live in the moment -- even if the moment is shitty -- while also plan for the future and not get overwhelmed?

In the words of Liz Lemon: