I finished treatment a little over three months ago. I am finally starting to feel like my cancer year is moving into the rearview mirror. Slowly and steadily my body is returning to balance. This did not happen overnight and has definitely been a gradual process.
The same week I ended treatment I got my period for the first time in thirteen months, and it was a doozy. I noticed the irony immediately. I had been intentionally working to support my hormones through acupuncture, meditation, and seed cycling throughout the year I was in chemically induced menopause. I had hoped my cycle would return, as I believe estrogen plays a protective role in the body, and had made the decision not to take Tamoxifen (you can read my in depth explanation of that choice here.) Because of my age, 44 when I started chemo, and the fact that I had started down the perimenopause road before cancer, my doctor was unsure if I would get my period back. But every month I crossed my fingers. For me, having my period back would be a sign that my body was coming back into its natural alignment. So when my period showed up as I was crossing my last treatment date off the calendar, I felt like it was ordained; a sign from above that there was a light at the end of the very dark tunnel I had been stuck in for all of 2025.
At first I felt overjoyed. My body was coming back online! This joy did not stick around as the weeks wore on and my period showed no signs of stopping. The reality of healing and the fact that it is non-linear hit hard. Not only was I bleeding day in and day out, but I found myself slightly depressed, easily irritated, and with absolutely no motivation and very little energy. A friend of mine compared my state to postpartum depression. After 6 weeks, my OBGYN recommended that I get a uterine biopsy as extended bleeding can often be a sign of an imbalance. After completing fourteen months of cancer treatment, biopsy is not a word you want to hear. The recommendation was precautionary. It followed standard protocol for all women when their cycle lasts longer than three weeks. But it turns out that my nervous system did not care about protocol. I immediately felt heightened, a little anxious. Disappointed, I was heading back to a medical office for a procedure so soon. And I felt my body go into protective mode, tightening up and gripping, because that is how we respond when there is a threat; whether it is a real threat or a perceived threat, our body can not tell the difference.
The appointment was scheduled for the following week and I realized that the waiting period was an opportunity to practice something I know will be lifelong work. Learning how to move through fear when faced with medical exams, tests, or interventions. The mind is evolutionarily wired toward scarcity. As this can be protective, it is not always a negative thing. But when fear becomes ruminative and obsessive, it stops being supportive and it begins to erode well being. This was especially important for me to remember given the low likelihood of cancer remaining in my body after treatment. I have also been working on letting my body know it is safe, so my central nervous system can stay out of the chronic stress addiction cycle most of us are stuck in.
What I am referring to here is the stress response loop. The brain releases cortisol, signaling the body to prepare to run from a threat. We carry a very old gene code. Historically, most threats were physical in nature. If we could get away, we could have a chance at surviving. The body shifts into fight or flight. The psoas, hamstrings, and core tighten, ready for action. That physical contraction sends feedback to the brain, prompting the release of more cortisol and adrenaline. The cycle continues, round and round, keeping us in a state of vigilance and protection. And since our nervous system and its autonomic response can not tell the difference between a real threat (sabor tooth tiger, tree falling . . .) and a perceived threat (email alerts, text messages, kid obligations, work demands, or caregiving for young kids and/or aging parents – the list goes on . . .). Over time, this stress cycle leaves very little room for spaciousness, clarity, or rational thought.
Lately, I have been practicing interrupting this loop in a simple, embodied way. One of my main practices has been to place one hand over my heart and one hand over my belly, draw my awareness toward the midline, take a slow breath, and repeat the words I am safe. As I waited for my biopsy, I knew this practice would be immensely valuable. Offering my nervous system a different message than fear, and reminding my body that this moment did not require a survival response. The story had not been written yet. IIf the biopsy came back showing something, I would deal with that information and go from there.
This practice works on multiple levels. Drawing your awareness into the midline helps the body understand where it is in space. When the physical body knows where it is, safety begins to register. When the physical body feels safe, the mental, emotional, and energetic bodies follow. A slow diaphragmatic breath activates the parasympathetic nervous system. The words I am safe communicate directly to the central nervous system. There is no immediate threat. There is no need for fight or flight.
So I found some time to sit in stillness, I closed my eyes, and dropped into my practice. As my body started to release the gripping, my mind eased and I was quiet enough to connect to my deep intuitive knowing within my body. Nothing felt wrong.
Over the past six months I had devoted significant energy toward encouraging my ovaries to respond to signals from my brain. Blood work showed I had high FSH levels with low estrogen. My pituitary gland was sending strong messages, but my ovaries were not ready to listen. Energetically, mentally, emotionally, and physically, I focused a lot of my attention on my uterus and reproductive system. When my ovaries finally came back on line, it made sense to me that there would be a flushing out, a recalibration of all systems, after a year of everything being stagnant. The pendulum had swung so suddenly and so dramatically in one direction when chemo disrupted my natural cycle, it only made sense that to find balance again, the swing had to be just as dramatic in the other direction before it settled back into the middle.
When that realization came to me, I felt it viscerally in my body as much as I understood it in my mind. Nearly eighty percent of the vagal nerve (the nerve that controls your parasympathetic “rest And digest” nervous system) signaling travels from the body to the brain. The vagus nerve is a wandering nerve, extending its reach to nearly every major organ, including the uterus. My uterus was sending signals that it was safe. It needed time to release, regulate, and repair. When the body communicates safety through the vagus nerve, the brain receives permission to stand down. Stress hormones decrease. Systems shift out of survival mode and back into regulation and healing.
Once I felt safe in my body and my mind, I chose not to live in fear. I moved forward with the biopsy as my Dr. recommended. I stayed connected to my inner knowing throughout the process. The results came back normal and after seven weeks, my period finally stopped, and my mood gradually improved.
Since then, I have had two cycles. The most recent cycle felt more normal for me. It lasted six days and was not too heavy. The entire experience reinforced what I have learned and tried to embody throughout my cancer journey. The body remembers how to heal when we create safety from within.
