SubscribeA journalist recently asked me, ‘How would you define yourself?’ It wasn’t quite the existential question that it first appears. What they meant was more like ‘ please sum up, in a few words and in a way that’s relevant to what we are talking about in this interview, what you are all about’. In this case, it was ‘author and cancer blogger’. For other interviews it’s been: cancer survivor, cancer fighter, cancer writer, inspirational cancer blogger… the list goes on. (Journalists don’t always give you the luxury of making your own definition, so I wouldn’t necessarily have endorsed all of these – you can probably tell which ones I don’t like…)
The question of defining ourselves is one I find myself returning to over and over. Partly, I think, because the time is coming when I need to make some changes (of which more anon). And partly because, once the ‘publish’ button is pressed, that definition of you is there forever. So once someone has written about me as ‘bravely battling cancer’ that definition sticks to me, no matter how little I like the definition.
For a while, cancer did define me. The way I slept, dressed, ate, looked, felt, the way I behaved, the things I did with my time, all happened within the limits put down by my dance with cancer. That’s not the case any more. There are days when cancer comes to the fore, when I’m speaking about it, or when I’m having a check-up. On other days, I am a mostly defined by my work as a writer; or a trainer. I’m always a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend.
Over and above those deep identities created by love, loyalty and belonging, now the way I define myself alters according to the moment, the job, the mood, and the person I’m with. (There are people to whom I am, and will always be, a brave little soldier fighting cancer, and there’s not a lot I can do to change that, apart from refusing to engage with their version of me.) Of course, a lot of the time I’m far too busy doing whatever it is I’m doing to worry about definitions at all, and I guess that’s the best way.
Hi Stephanie,
I read your Bah book when I was diagnosed at the beginning of this year and I read your Blog too. Your Definitions blog struck a chord with me. I am struggling at the moment with the way Cancer is defining me. I am coming to the end of 5 weeks of radiotherapy (tomorrow is my last session), and I feel like I’ve ceased to be anything other than a cancer patient. The only subject of conversation people engage in is about cancer and what stage of treatment I’m at. My family life goes on regardless (we have 4 children) and I go through the motions to try to maintain normality for them. Your blogs are inspiring and interesting, funny and intelligent. Thank you.
Kind regards,
Mel.
Hi Mel,
What a lovely comment. Thank you.
The day-in-day-outness of radiotherapy makes it very difficult not to Have Cancer All The Time, I think. The good news is that when it’s over you get your days back, even if they are muted by the after-effects for a while.
I know what you mean about the conversations thing, too. Something I’ve cottoned on to quite recently is that, once I’ve given people the essential information that they need to reassure them, if I start to ask them lots and lots of questions about what they are doing, their family, and so on, they are forced to engage with me in a different way.
Take care and be well,
Stephanie