Living Beyond the Chaos

My Anchors In Any Storm

I hate lists. Shopping lists, todolists, bucket lists, none of them work for me. All I end up with are coat pockets and desk drawers full of tatty paper scraps and scribbles. When there is ever a time and place to apply and test Tara Brach’s radical acceptance it is here and now. I accept I am the queen of chaos, or as I was so endearingly nicknamed at my first job: darling Bubble (in reference to the ditzy character from Ab Fab as we worked in fashion PR).

If there is one thing life has taught me, apart from ditching lists and embracing self acceptance, is that however much we want plans to pan out and crave security and stability, reality is going from one giant wobble to the next big crash. I would love to spend the rest of my life prancing around a Hobbit valley making daisy chains and serving herbal teas to wizards, but life keeps sending me out on quests.

How does one find strength and meaning after life’s relentless challenges?

In 2012, one year into a terminal cancer diagnosis, I shared a post on the patient forum Inspire. It was the only place where I had been able to locate a handful of people with the same rare cancer as I had (and now likely have again/still). To share my ideas on how to cope with the insane pressures with our “new normal” and having to deal with scanxiety, I inadvertently created a LIST:

Facing the Noise: Releasing the Pain

Go Somewhere Loud and Shout
The importance of acknowledging and releasing pent-up anger. I got it from a scene on TV when Chad Lowe’s character on “Life Goes On” Jesse is standing next to the tracks with girlfriend Becca, waiting for a passing train to shout at. He has found out he is HIV-positive and needs to let it out… the rage… the fear… the worries…

My friend took me to the beach and bribed me with hot chocolate. I dragged myself out of the car and walked a mile along the shore. Waves were crashing onto the beach, making loud splashing, bouldering noises that vibrated through my body. I closed my eyes and shouted as loud as I could. Let it rip, let it roar!

Instead, you could also go to a death metal concert and scream along with the band.

Grounding in the Present

Count Your Toes to Stay Grounded
Small, almost silly grounding techniques kept me sane in moments of chaos. Mindfulness and grounding can shift perspective during crises. Walking barefoot in the grass (or sitting with your naked bum bum when you can) is a wonderful way.

Mostly immobile after surgery I was on bedrest for weeks in hospital. It was one of the most challenging and terrifying times of my life. When I was too weak to have my daily showers I found it very hard to ground myself and release tension.

The hospital’s social worker would visit with me regularly. She told me to count my toes. I did this by trying to wriggle my toes individually, focusing on each toe one by one, whenever I was unable to touch them. I prefer touching, massaging or squeezing them, but when that is not physically possible connecting to your toes with your mind works as a grounding alternative.

I still do this, especially now. I will give myself a foot rub with some lavender oil at night, consciously squeeze and count each toe before putting my bed socks on.

Hope, Dreams, and Perspective

Ask and You Will Receive, Beyond Your Wildest Dreams
Hope, even in its smallest form became a beacon for new possibilities. This one is a bit biblical and may not resonate in that context per se. But bear with me.

It’s a line from the song How It Ends by Devotchka, one of my altime favourite bands (their soundtrack for Little Miss Sunshine is also magical). You always wanted to believe…

Even in the darkest days, when I was sitting on the floor of the walk in wardrobe, sobbing and counting the content of my biscuit tin full of medicine I hoarded in hospital to see if it was enough to end it all, I kept being guided back to hope.

I would die anyway, so why rush it? Why not let a little ray of hope in and let life happen.

I went from the wardrobe to therapy, to physiotherapy to meetings at the cancer centre and eventually to freaking Boston. Maura and her husband Mark, my amazing and ridiculously generous friend who I met on Inspire, were hosting me on a trip of a lifetime.

We slept at a beautiful hotel in the marina, we stood in the ocean at Plum island and we ate lobster. Three times. We met up with other friends dealing with cancer in Salem (I still have the witch bottle on my healing altar).

I cried when the hotel received us with milk and cookies in our room with a view. Had I known that this was still in the cards for me, my time in hospital would have been a little easier to get through. I remind myself of this now daily. Have hope because there is no way of knowing what life still has in store for you.

Don’t Live Each Day as If It Is Your Last
The importance of pacing yourself and not succumbing to the pressure of “time running out.” I need the reminder now again more than ever.

I have been given an estimate of how long I may last, without intervention like surgery or immune suppressant drugs. I still have not entirely understood yet what this means to me now. The previous deadline kept being postponed, so who is to say this time it is in any way accurate.

I have my healing plan in place. It is a practice of diet, supplements, rituals and the habits or “strategies” I am sharing here. I do still need to find space to not live as if I am walking around with a time bomb in my body.

Surrender and Simplicity

Just Breathe and Be
Explore the beauty of stillness and acceptance, even in the hardest moments.

After my second surgery in 2011 -a radical hysterectomy that left me with a temporary supra pub catheter- I felt utterly destroyed. I could not really walk, only shuffle, the only position I could sleep in was on my back and then only with sedatives and sleeping pills.

I felt I had “to do something” to “fix this”. I couldn’t. My therapist reminded me, that in moments like these, we are not asked to do anything. It is no longer about acting, it is about being. Completely being with yourself. “Breathe and be and that is enough”.

My favourite way of doing this now, is in the bath. I lean back until my ears are submerged. I put my hand on my heart to feel it beating. I close my eyes and listen to my breath.

I am wired to fight, or to flee. I find it extremely hard to stay present when faced with “danger”. It stems from an abusive childhood, where freezing and dissociation were my go to survival tactic.

Beyond the bath there is an amazing richness of breathwork out there. Wim Hoff for example, or Niraj Naik have developed methods that really help us understand the power of our own breath. The advantage is that we have to breathe anyway, so we can make it work for us wherever and whenever.

Vogue India also dedicated a story to it, that shows just how accessible, easy and effective it can be.

Finding Joy Amidst the Pain

Never Travel Without a Soundtrack
Music is a healer. It can draw out emotions so they can be experienced and released. When going into a scan, sometimes the radiologist asks me if I want to listen to music. Mostly I don’t and I just meditate and breathe. Other times I need a tune.

Woodie Guthrie has been with me a lot since 2011. It meant so much to me that when I was in Boston my friend Maura gave me his biography.

Shower times at the hospital post surgery were my times to bellow it out: After the Storm by Mumford and Sons.

These days I listen to very gentle music, soft and melancholy. Ane Brun, Madrugada, Tindersticks, Carla Bruni, Alexei Murdoch, Beirut, But when I need a bit of a boost I jump around with the Hanuman Chalisa. Which usually leads to listening to the soundtrack of Slumdog Millionaire. Paper Planes!

I love movie soundtracks, but mostly I “discover” music through TV-series. I love this Italian rendition of “aint no sunshine”: Caterina Caselli.

Watching I love Dick on Prime last week I found Mal Devisa and Lhasa de Sela. Perfect for my current moods of shellshock, depression and a desire to be freed from it all.

Strength in Solitude and Forgiveness

Find Your Sanctuary
It used to be the ancient burial grounds close to my house that were my sanctuary. I would lie on one of the giant rocks and let its weight, it’s history, it’s strength carry me. The row of tree tops circling around it framed the sky with their branches full of fir.

I love sanctuaries in nature. A favourite tree, a stunning view, a small enclosure in a forest that feels like a secret hiding place. A nape in the dunes, a bench in the park. Bath times are also a perfect opportunity to turn your bathroom into a sanctuary. Combine it with personal rituals to enhenace the feeling of creating and claiming your own sacred space.

Don’t Bear Grudges, That Shit Gives You Cancer
Apart from Marlon Brando yelling Sttttteeelllaaaaahhhhh, this may be my alltime favourite line from a “movie”. It is what Woody Harrelson’s character on True Detective says, when asked if he has any hard feelings about his former aprtner, played by Matthew McConaughey.

I believed I had moved to a space beyond forgiveness, but with cancer once again present in my body I now know better. There is “work” to do. Forgiveness is not a must, it is not a method. It is not something to be forced, not even when you feel your life depends on it.

Make space for it, allow for it to be a possibility and let it take you there step by step.

Anger often stands in the way of forgiveness. I saw a post on instagram, a link to a tiktok video I think. It was a man who said: “Anger is how we punish ourselves for what someone else did to us. It only hurts us twice.”

I used to be afraid of anger. I may have judged it and believed I was a bad, unlovable, person when angry (it is part of my childhood conditioning of not being allowed to show any “negative” emotions or even set boundaries). The fire of my rage can feel quite scorching, but I do let it out like a fire spitting dragon. That way it can come and go, ebbing, flowing, so that fire doesn’t get stuck inside my body. Anger doesn’t have to be punishment, blame and guilt don’t have to be a prison.

Embracing Your Humanity

Surrender to Your Senses
It is not an easy task to appreciate the physical, human existence, when you are in a lot of pain. But finding ways to use your senses in a soothing, pleasurable way really works. Make it a mindful practice. Really listen to your favourite music and let it vibrate through you. Close your eyes to smell your favourite foods before tasting them. Eat slow and savour it. Book a massage for a tender, relaxing touch or use meridian brushes at home.

Take a shower and really lather yourself with something that smells heavenly to you.

Look at things that inspire wonder and awe. A sunset, a Jackson Pollock painting.

Embrace Your Mornings
When going through a deep depression I literally did not want to get out of bed anymore. I only got up to feed myself or use the toilet. The rest of the time I slept, or binge watched silly crap.

I don’t know what changed, what triggered me, but suddenly one day I thought: I have to make myself be thankful for each day. I gave myself a mission, a project, as I needed a crutch. For 77 mornings in a row I went outside the greet the sunrise and take a picture of it.

Cutting Through the Noise to Find Gratitude

Cut the Crap and Count Your Blessings
This one is the hardest. What is there to be grateful for when you are scared, confused, exhausted and in pain?

There is always something….

It takes acceptance, radical acceptance. I did not mean it in a cynical or defeatist way when I first muttered the words “it is what it is” out loud. By this I mean there is no denial, no shortcut no quick fix, no exit strategy. Acceptance and allowance opens up space to see things to be grateful for. In my case most days it is my pets, whose love and presence offer me so much comfort, solace and joy.

Gratitude doesn’t have to be perfect—it’s a messy but worthwhile practice.