Molested by cancer

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Many people who have had childhood sexual-based trauma, know the conflicting set of emotions that go along with being molested: Shame and a sense that you are special. Obviously this is something I’ve dealt with and I often wonder if some of my cancer roots lie in that past history. I touched on my walling off my breasts from the rest of me here, which could very well have been a result of sexual abuse as a kid.

There may be links between sexual abuse and breast cancer but that’s not the reason for this post. What has been rolling through my head though is that those very specific pair of emotions have cropped up again. I have a sense of shame over getting sick early on in life. As if somehow it indicates a terrible weakness, physically, spiritually. There is also that sense that I am special. That I am going through something few people go through. I am special because this genetic predator chose me. And then feeling special makes me feel ashamed all over again.

Cancer feels like a terrible violation. The body you trust to house you for this lifetime all of a sudden is doing things against your wellbeing. Of course cancer is dissimilar to the sexual predator in that it does not feel good. There is no confusion as far as that goes and no part of me that enjoys the bone aches or nausea or host of other symptoms.

I wonder if other people have these feelings or if these emotions are just in storage because of my past history. Easy feelings to pull off the shelf when something big and scary comes along. What I do know is that it makes me a victim all over again. And I don’t want to navigate this as a victim. Sure, cancer is unfair. Nobody deserves it. But being a victim and concentrating on that role seems to separate me from the life force I am meant to experience. Being a victim thwarts any attempt at creation. So today I choose to create and am willing to step out of my role as a victim and take responsibility for whatever life I have left.

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