Anxiety and Depression are all part of the Journey!

When I was fifteen, I began experiencing severe manic episodes, though I would not be diagnosed with bipolar disorder until about ten years later. During that time, I struggled to understand my emotional state, often attempting to self-medicate in hopes of stopping the episodes. This was in the mid-1990s, a time when mental health awareness and education were not as developed as they are today. Fortunately, like many people with adolescent bipolar disorder, the manic episodes subsided as I grew older, and eventually, they stopped altogether.

I mention my past diagnosis because mental health issues bring a flood of emotions—feelings of isolation, despair, hopelessness, and desperation. These were all emotions I experienced during my manic episodes as a teenager. Fast forward to today, while I am no longer dealing with those episodes, I find myself facing those same feelings again in the wake of my cancer diagnosis.

You do not have to be manic to feel manic. I know that sounds confusing, so let me explain. Last night, I was just sitting there—calm, having a good evening—and out of nowhere, it felt like I was spiraling. My mind started flooding with thoughts: death, my disease progressing to the point where I would have to move in with my parents, my husband not being able to take care of me, and even imagining my dog not recognizing me because of my cognitive decline. Whoa… what the fuck is happening? Was this a panic attack, a manic episode? I have no idea what was going on.

I managed to calm my mind and eventually stopped the spiral, but for the rest of the night, I felt uneasy and completely drained. I am pretty sure I had some kind of panic attack, and I know most of what I was feeling was irrational—fears with no real basis. But still, they were fears my mind somehow latched onto. I do a lot to keep my stress in check. I take walks, swim, get weekly massages, talk to my husband about my fears, write, and even have an amazing emotional support dog, Peanut, who probably thinks I am crazy. So why do I still feel all these things?

The truth is this is normal. It is part of dealing with cancer—especially terminal brain cancer. These fears, though irrational, are my mind’s way of grappling with the immense uncertainty and vulnerability I face daily. It is as if my brain is trying to make sense of an impossible situation, and in doing so, it conjures up these worst-case scenarios. The fear of losing control, of watching my body and mind change in ways I cannot stop—that is a terrifying reality that looms in the background. My mind latches onto these thoughts, not because they are likely, but because they represent my deepest anxieties.

The thing is these feelings are not something I can just fix or make disappear overnight. They are not logical fears I can rationalize away—they are emotional, raw, and tied to everything I am trying to cope with. It is like my brain is trying to protect me by preparing me for the worst, even if it leaves me feeling overwhelmed in the process. I have come to realize that instead of fighting these feelings, I must acknowledge them for what they are: part of the process. It is not about getting rid of them; it is about learning to live alongside them, knowing they will come and go.

Working through these fears will take time. There is no quick solution, and that is okay. It is something I will have to face bit by bit, as I learn to navigate this new reality. Maybe these feelings will never fully go away, but I do not have to let them control me. It is part of the journey, however messy or overwhelming it feels at times. And while it is exhausting, I remind myself that I have made it through before—and I will again.