Author: Molly Kochan O

I left my husband today

~ Molly Kochan O ~ 10 Comments

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I left my husband today. I chose to do it for my health. We were together for 13 years.

I’ve written this post over and over. Cataloging the ins and out of what my husband and I did to get here. Trying to be honest about my part in everything. But as I think about what I want to say, I realize the details aren’t the point.

Sure it takes two to make or break a marriage. It’s technically sad when a union of 13 years dissolves. Things that look good on the outside are not always that way on the inside…I could go on…but I won’t. At least, not in this direction.

The truth is, without this diagnosis I probably would have stayed, continued to try to make things work. Because there is a lot of love there. But there is also a lot of stress. And a stressful environment is not a good one when battling cancer.

Part of the stress came from my husband’s controlling behavior and the other part came from my shutting down. What I’ve come to realize in the last few months is that to navigate all of this, I can’t be shut down. I really have to come to this eyes open, present, an active participant in the life I get to build. A life that I now know to be limited in time.

It is this real knowing of the finite nature of life that has pushed me to seek joy. Nurture self expression that I couldn’t find in the context of my marriage. It’s allowing me to stop second guessing that voice that has been telling me I’m unhappy. Because even though there were good times, I never quite felt reflected in my surroundings. It was like I was renting space in someone else’s world. And it’s time to live in mine.

Sure there are moments I’m scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of losing love. But I also have moments of great faith and trusting the Universe to provide exactly what I need. So today I’m leaping because, even thought the fall might suck, there will be a net. And because if I get to keep and cultivate myself with love, I have nothing else to lose.

The comfort of now

~ Molly Kochan O ~ 3 Comments

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Since my rediagnosis back in August, I have had this uncanny ability to rout out all of the stories about women who are around my age who are passing away from stage IV breast cancer. I normally try to dig a bit, google their names to find out what kind of cancer it was (hormone positive? triple negative?), when they got diagnosed, what kind of treatment they underwent…Then I do the math and see, based on their timeline, how much time I have left.

Helpful. I know.

One of the most difficult parts of stage IV breast cancer is that there is so much they do not know. Nobody knows if your treatment will work. Nobody really knows how much time you have. They could give you a ballpark but many people have been told 6 months and have gone on to live for over 18 years. And the opposite is true. Nobody can tell you where the cancer will hit next. Or, in my case, if the chronic cough I have is really related to the fluid around my lungs or something else. The list of unknowns goes on.

It would be so nice to get some absolutes in a way. But even the absolutes they have via scientific data are not so absolute. Because everybody is different. And while a study can give you the general sense of efficacy for a drug, or its side effects, nobody knows how YOUR body will fare on that drug.

It turns out this useless search for absolutes is really my search for comfort in something otherwise so uncomfortable. If I know the parameters or what to expect, I can exhale. But if I really knew how much time I had left or where and when the cancer would spread next, would that truly allow me to breathe freely?

Probably not…

So I’ve starting seeking comfort in others ways. I’ve been connecting with people who are going through similar things. I find that while their exact health journey may be different than mine, the feelings we share are generally the same. Or the side effects they are experiencing may be the ones I have, and how nice it is to be able to bitch about premature menopause with someone who gets it.

I’m also looking to give up trying to forecast my own timeline. Being in the present is the only real comfort there is. Because, ultimately, all I really have is now, same as anyone, healthy or not.

Not enough…

~ Molly Kochan O ~ 2 Comments

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It seems like every time I’m about to make a giant leap forward in my life, I undergo a health setback. Things were fine and dandy over the summer and I got busy planning. But this stage IV diagnosis made short work of any goals I’d set.

I try to remain positive about this journey. It’s the only way to really fight this thing. But today, I am sick in bed with a fever, staring at the guest room walls, wondering if I will ever leave this room.

Almost certainly I will. At least, this time…

Today, I had been taking more steps towards creating a life I am proud of when this fever cropped up. My white blood count is low (1.9), my throat is on fire and I am back on antibiotics. Thank god for those! But physically I feel like crap…

Emotionally I don’t feel well either. This pattern of moving forward and then getting pushed back is like the Universe’s telling me I am not enough. That my dreams are not worth following or I am not trustworthy enough to make my own decisions.

That sense of not being enough is an echo from childhood. I briefly talked about physical abuse here. And that is only part of what recorded the “not enough” tape. Never mind the details, but what it did was make me someone who tried so hard to please others at a great cost to myself.

So it seems unfair that the moment I feel the fire to push towards something for me, I get shut down. Or at least, that’s how it feels. This diagnosis made me realize I need to please myself and when it becomes difficult to do that, I lose steam and a bit of hope.

Writing this, I wonder if maybe there are other ways to meet myself and my desires outside of those plans I’ve been trying to make. This blog has helped. It puts labels on things otherwise vague and terrifying. And that’s for me…It’s for you too, whoever reads this, because isn’t it nice to know, even though we navigate this existence alone, we are all one in this thing called the human condition?

Cancer is crazy…I’m not?

~ Molly Kochan O ~ Leave a comment

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My emotions since re-diagnosis have been all over the place. I’ve hit every stage of grief, had moments of hope, been excited about turning my life into something I’m happy with, gone back to grieving, hope, excitement….and it goes on. A virtual carousel of crazy.

As someone who has dealt with depression for most of my life, I am no stranger to the dark side. I’ve dipped my toe in that water many times and then rebounded to the light side until I went back to the dark over and over.

It’s taken years of soul searching and willingness to be able to settle into gratitude and acceptance. To find compassion for myself and others. I’m not perfect at it and some days are better than others, but I’ve come miles from where I started.

Cancer is a messy ordeal and the emotions that come with it are too. It can be depleting on so many levels. And there are times when I am afraid that if the feelings are crazy, then so am I. I’m afraid because I don’t want to go back to that scattered, very sad and lost person I was.

But feeling scattered, sad and lost is different than actually embodying those things. And I know that. Intellectually. There is that scared little person inside of me though, along with the bigger person I’ve become, that is afraid of returning to the all encompassing dark side. It’s a feeling of dread.

So what I have to do during the dreadful moments is to focus on just that moment. And remind myself that for today I am navigating this the best way I can and that crazy is just the ride I’m on.

Pulling the covers off of old wounds

~ Molly Kochan O ~ 2 Comments

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Last night drifting off to sleep, I was thinking about how I actually enjoy writing this blog. It’s nice to be able to chronicle what I’ve been through and am currently undergoing. I’m starting to feel a sense of purpose and get a glimpse of community. While we all navigate this stuff alone and in our own way, it’s comforting to know I’m not the only one with this disease or the feelings that go along with it.

There are times, though, when I post, that I become a nervous wreck. I hear an all too familiar voice. The one that asks me what I’m doing. That tells me no one will ever read what I write. And if they do, they won’t get me. Or even worse, they’ll get me and they won’t like me.

Well, the truth is I don’t have time for that voice. I’m sure it is there as some form of protection, but it’s a protection I no longer need. So instead of the usual internalization I’ve done in the past, I am making that voice public. Airing it out so that the thickness of it thins and loses its power.

…With this post I thank that voice and and respectfully ask it to move on.