You have the right to feel at home in your own body

Me looking sexy as hell after the SoulCycle class.

These wise words were spoken by one of my favorite SoulCycle instructors Kaley Skoguland during class 3 weeks ago. It was a Lady Gaga vs Pink ride so you know it was going to be fun & emotional as fuck. Did I cry during this ride? Of course. Was it my first time crying during a Soul class? Of course not. But it was definitely one of the most fun classes I had been to. That aside, those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t stop thinking about them the rest of class. As soon as class ended, I wrote it down in my notes so I wouldn’t forget because my chemo brain is in full effect. I drove home repeating those words and was trying so hard to think about the last time I felt at home in my body. I realized it probably was early May of 2019.

I realized I never appreciated how I had the freedom to dye my hair or satisfy any of my cravings at any given time or take spin classes multiple days in a row just because I wanted to. As someone who doesn’t even have control issues, not having control of my body during the last 2 years is insanely frustrating. This last month of having to go through chemo again really squashed any progress I had made since November 2019. I wasn’t even close to being back at pre-cancer Jen Lava but atleast I was making progress. I spent this last week back at my apartment in DC and that did help things a bit. I was surrounded by MY things and sleeping in MY bed and doing things how and when I like to do them. As the week went on I started to feel a little better; that could also have something to do with it being an “off” week. It wasn’t my body but it was my space and it made me wish that I could magically make that at home feeling come back.

I know that the hair issue seems really superficial but to anyone going through treatment it is 100% not the case. (Don’t worry; I will be doing a whole post about hair because I have some truly fantastic pictures that should be shared with the world.) If you asked anyone to describe me, I’m fairly certain they would 100% include my blonde curly hair. I know I’m lucky that I didn’t lose all my hair but I definitely lost some of it and it thinned out A WHOLE LOT. Any of the dyed sections of my hair would dry out no matter what products I used. I could only describe it as a rat's nest. As my natural brown hair grew in I was happy that I had healthy, thick hair again but it just didn’t feel right.  The random tufts growing in combined with the thick brunette top and thin blonde bottom really created a lewk that I do not wish to have. I was born a blonde and I feel like myself as a blonde. It’s silly but that’s how I see myself.

You know what really, truly fucking sucks? Chemo. 0 out of 10 would recommend. The list of side effects are a laundry list of bad “would you rather” options. You get told what all the possible side effects can be and then are told, “we don’t know how you are going to react to the chemo and it can vary round to round so good luck.” What a thrilling guessing game. From the standard nausea to the absurd sensitivity to cold, it is frustrating and exhausting to not have any clue how your body is going to respond. Don’t worry, I still make inappropriate jokes to my doctors and nurses about them because if you can’t laugh at constipation and/or diarrhea, with a combined side of tiredness & not being able to sleep; what can you laugh at? I know chemo is only temporary but it is cumulative and takes a while to fully be out of your system. Obviously when I’m connected to my treatment for 48 hours, I never feel like myself but it’s all the other days that make it a little harder. It would be so much better that after getting pumped with chemicals you get some sort of super power. If these drugs are going to make me feel like crap for a few months, the least it can do is give me the ability to teleport.

Before I got sick, I was taking spin classes 2-4 times a week. It was 45 minutes of me time that just felt so great for my mind and body. By no means was I the most healthy, fit person out there but I was starting to really feel like I was hitting my stride in getting in shape. I took great motivation from my instructors and the other riders to work harder and improve each class. I hated not being on the rhythm or being able to keep up during certain points but I always tried and that’s what mattered. And then my surgery threw almost all of that improvement out the window. It took almost a year (thank you pandemic purchase of the at home SoulCycle bike) to get about 70% to where I was pre-cancer. And now, another set back. On Thursday, Heather and I spent the day going out to eat and shopping and my abs felt like I had been doing sit-ups for 8 hours. I could barely move off the couch when I got home. I didn’t even have the strength to do a 20 minute ride let alone a 10 minute arm series on Friday. Part of me wants to push myself but another part is like slow your roll dummy; your body can’t handle it. (Also I will get yelled at by like 4 doctors for doing too much and I don’t want to lose my status as the best patient.) I would also like to add, it’s a gut punch when the old ladies on the block walk faster than me.

My weight has always been an issue with me. I’ve had body dysmorphia since I was a teenager. The constant up and down of the numbers on the scale are a constant battle. I walked out of surgery literally 5 lbs lighter. And then had another immediate drop of 5 lbs that my body had been trying to lose before I knew of Carl’s existence. Obviously I was thrilled to see the numbers go down and be able to fit into my “skinny Jen” jeans that I kept in my closet as motivation. And then the lack of appetite caused even more of a drop and I started to actually look gaunt and sickly. After a while the numbers went up and was at my goal weight where I felt like myself. And then I started taking anti-depressants that caused me to gain weight. My daily 7 mile walks and 30 day ab & squat challenges were no match for the drug. No matter how healthy I ate, it didn’t make a difference. I HATED seeing myself in the mirror. I cried so many times about looking and feeling fat. And then I saw the number on the scale and it was the highest it had ever been in my life. Carl wasn’t just taking something from me, he was adding something. I have since switched drugs and that has helped a little. And now my weight is in a yo-yo stage. It’s really hard to feel at home in your body when you don’t love your body.

I know it will be a long time before I’m back to feeling at home in my body. It's a marathon; not a sprint. Slow and steady wins the race. And whatever other phrase I’m missing can be inserted here. The mental and physical and emotional aspects of cancer are hard. (duh) It truly takes a toll on you. I know I am loved and supported by my amazing friends and family. I know I have a safe space to call my own. My body is by no means a temple but it has been compromised and no longer my own. Fucking Carl is trying to take over and there are times I just want to not care anymore. But that is not an option. That is not how I win. I do have the right to feel at home in my body and nobody, Carl included, is allowed to take that away from me.