Recently, someone commented on my blog and shared that a person they knew used Stoicism philosophy to cope with glioblastoma (GBM). I will admit, at the time, I had to google what Stoicism was. I ended up diving deep into the differences between being stoic in the modern sense and the ancient philosophy of Stoicism. For those who do not know, Stoicism was founded by Zeno of Citium in ancient Greece around 300 BC. At its core, it teaches that while we cannot control external events, we can control how we react to them. Central to Stoicism is living in harmony with nature and reason, which leads to a virtuous life. The philosophy stresses the importance of self-discipline, emotional resilience, and focusing on what we can control—our thoughts, actions, and attitudes—while accepting the things we cannot change. Practicing virtues like wisdom, courage, justice, and temperance helps to maintain a calm and rational mindset, especially in the face of adversity. Stoicism ultimately aims to cultivate inner peace by reducing emotional turmoil and avoiding unnecessary suffering.
Initially, I did not see myself as someone who embodied Stoic principles. But the more I researched it, the more it began to resonate with me. Stoicism outlines that while many things are beyond our control, our own actions, thoughts, and reactions are entirely within our power. As the opening lines of the Enchiridion (book based on Stoic Philosophy, written in the 14th Century) state: "Some things in the world are up to us, while others are not. Up to us are our faculties of judgment, motivation, desire, and aversion. In short, whatever is our own doing." This is the foundation of Stoic philosophy: the distinction between what we can control (our internal world—our judgments, motivations, desires, and aversions) and what we cannot (external events, outcomes, or other people’s actions). By focusing on what is "our own doing," Stoics believe we can find peace and avoid unnecessary emotional distress.
Facing a terminal brain cancer diagnosis has forced me to confront this philosophy in a way I never expected. So much of this journey is outside of my control—the tests, the treatments, the progression of the disease—but what I can control is how I respond. I have come to realize that, like the Stoics, I need to focus on my internal world, on how I choose to face each day with courage and resilience. There is a deeply emotional layer to Stoicism when dealing with something like cancer: it is not just about rational acceptance but about finding strength in the midst of vulnerability, about allowing yourself to feel deeply without being consumed by fear or despair. For me, Stoicism is not about shutting off emotions—it is about accepting the storm of emotions, while still striving for peace within. The philosophy does not erase the pain, but it offers a path forward, helping me live with more clarity and calm as I navigate this difficult reality. I have much more to learn on this subject.
I found your blog from your comment on my friends page (Nicole Halpin). Her husband passed from GBI in May. I became a widow in 1995 when my 24 yr old husband died in a car accident. Although I don't know the pain of losing someone to the horrible disease you are living with, I do know grief. I have lived for many, many years with anxiety and worry....waiting for the next trauma to drop. I recently started seeing a homeopath to help heal the anxiety that has controlled my life for many years. I had an another appointment with her on Thursday as I was feeling out of whack again after months of doing well. Our session helped me…