I watched a social media reel by a cancer survivor recently. While working out at the gym, the survivor looked into the camera and stated that if you are not actively treating cancer, but you still think and talk about cancer, you are stuck. I appreciate anyone who can speak coherently while using a kettlebell, but her statement was disturbing. I would guess that since I write a cancer blog without being on treatment, in her mind I am stuck. But I do not feel stuck. I feel awake. I feel aware. I feel real.

One reason I disagree with this influencer’s message is that cancer patients are called to be vigilant. It is our job to complete the scans recommended by our oncologists. But it is also our job to be on the lookout for changes in our body that indicate a change in our cancer status. Noticing and reporting symptoms has literally saved my life. It shed light on new cancer diagnoses and earlier interventions that made survival possible. How do I differentiate being vigilant from being afraid? I don’t. They sit right next to each other within me. Fear is a normal emotion in life. Uncomfortable at times, but normal. It is especially a normal emotion in the life of a cancer patient or survivor. The question is not whether or not I have fear. The question is how does fear influence my life. Does it stop me from living? Does it suck my emotional energy? Does it motivate me to do things that enhance my life? Does it increase my awareness? Being afraid does not make me feel stuck. It makes me feel alive. Sometimes it keeps me alive.

The second reason I disagree with this influencer’s message is that I feel my cancer journey is part of my life’s journey. It has influenced me in so many ways. It has grown my practice of gratitude. It has made me more present in the moment. It has shown up in my physical body every day: fatigue, body aches, and brain fog. If I want to live whole and holy, why would I reject a big part of my history and my body that continues to have such a powerful influence?

One consequence of cancer is that I have to be more mindful of the limitations of my body. When someone asks me to do something, I need to reflect on what other demands on my energy exist in that day or even that week? Will I have the energy to participate in the event? Will it drain me so that I can not enjoy other activities or commitments? Being this intentional about energy is a normal response to having experienced cancer, whether you are currently active in treatment or not. Listening to my body does not mean I’m stuck. It means I’m paying attention and being intentional about what I do with my body.

I am seeing a trend in the cancer and heart community where people have stepped away from support and stepped toward judgement. It is essential that we recognize people have very different experiences with cancer for many different reasons. It could be co-morbidities, a lack of resources, a personal history of previous trauma, a lack of social support, or a multitude of other reasons. However someone travels this path, they bring their life’s history with them and it does influence their journey. This influencer made a blanket statement that does not consider all the individual nuances on cancer survivors’ lives. Let us bring our compassion and grace to any discussion about facing cancer. If we would want others to offer to us, let us offer it to others.

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not state the obvious irony about this reel. This person filmed and published a reel about cancer patients being stuck when they think or talk about cancer. Does thinking and talking about cancer in this video mean that they perceive themselves as stuck? I believe that people often judge aspects of others that they reject within themselves. That makes me wonder if self judgment was at the core of the message.

To my dear readers, no matter how you are traveling this path of life, I believe you are doing the absolute best you can. You are strong. You are worthy. You are seen. Do not let anyone on social media or in your life take that from you. Be well.