This is Part 2 to my Part 1, “Looking for the 'I', I Was Before Thyroid Cancer”. It’s a series of cathartic reflections I’ve been writing to finally understand my experience with thyroid cancer. Part 1 talked about grieving my old self. Part 2 introduces you to Laymie, once someone I never wanted anyone to meet.
Having thyroid cancer was a rude awakening for me. I grew up a goodie-two-shoes perfectionist overachiever. But, it’s was never sustainable to act like your good side is your only side, and cancer zaps any remaining energy you have to pretend. That’s when I finally met my hidden other half - my shadow.
Swiss psychologist C.G. Jung once said, “Our shadow is the person we would rather not be.” For most of my life, this person was also someone I never let others see - emotional, nasty, ugly, negative, uninspiring, weak. I could go on. This was the "lame” side of me you will get to know as "Laymie”.
Once after a guided meditation, I was asked to draw a picture of my shadow. I was terrified of that crappy drawing. It seems that somehow, I had completely compartmentalized my shadow outside of my conscious awareness. In that dark secret closet of my mind, it grew into a terrifying demon I could not see or control.
ALONE WITH MY SHADOW REALITY
While cancer grew, the energy and patience I had to show up as my “best” self shrank. I became moody, cynical, dark. Even though I was surrounded by a kind and loving community, I preferred solitude because I still felt the need to shield my unpalatability from them.
Here, was a sanctuary where Laymie could be lame. She could sulk, worry, and cry for the miseries of the world in the solace of her own.
Laymie flooded my life with big new “dark” emotions. I hadn’t yet learned to regulate them so I was constantly emotionally flooded - my nervous system would shut down and I would go into an immediate fight, flight, freeze response. My boyfriend can attest to how often I was triggered and frustrated by small annoyances and blowing out over unimportant details.
This flooding had me bouncing between two distinct states - overwhelmed and stressed by everything, or numb and zoned out like a zombie. A thick blanket of dullness muffled everything that I used to find fun or funny, and I felt more interested in staying home doing nothing.
I let Laymie cry, frown, judge, complain, nap, be awkward, move slowly, veg out, space out, be frazzled, skip flossing, eat junk, and binge watch Netflix.
Like this, the days blurred and my experience of the world grew small. I grew more disconnected from who I knew myself to be, my past, and the world. I felt I had lost myself to Laymie.
A HIDDEN LESSON EMERGES OUT OF THE MUCK
Hippies and spiritual people say, “surrender” to life - I’ve always wondered what that actually meant. After all this, I think it means that sometimes you need to let go and lean into your inner Laymie.
Sometimes I’m a shitty person, having a shitty day, taking it out by snapping at people or cutting cars off on the road. On those shitty days, I reflexively feel bad and judge myself for being mean, bad, wrong, or otherwise unlovable. I’m not condoning taking Laymie out on people, but judging myself on top of that fed into my self-rejection cycle.
I learned that after the emotional flood waters receded, it was helpful to reflect and forgive myself. For me, that was a combination of journaling, meditation, a loved one’s listening ear, yoga, dance, seeing my acupuncturist or chiropractor, putting my toes into the sand at the beach, talk therapy, prayer, or anything that helped give me a sense of peace.
I want to emphasize reflection and forgiveness part because you need a balm when you open up these raw emotional wounds for healing. Also, if you were like me and stuck on the forgiveness part, it helps to first acknowledge if you’ve been taking out Laymie on others. Then, thank them for sticking by you and your BS as you grow! (Sorry sweet boyfriend, please forgive me, thank you, and I love you!)
SHOWING OFF OUR UGLY FROWNS
Despite it being an incredibly difficult time, I am grateful for the intensity of this experience. I am stubborn as hell and had it not been for the cancer revealing Laymie, I undoubtedly would’ve continued to steamroll past any niceties from the universe. This shadow was my own tough love.
It is suffocating and exhausting to believe that you can only show half of yourself, your “palatable” half to the world. These up-and-down, light-and-dark, Gaymie-and-Laymie cycles helped me to become more self-aware and compassionate of all sides of me. Each cycle has brought me closer to my whole and authentic self.
Now that I’ve decided I would rather endure other people’s disapproval over my own self-rejection, I feel less of an internal struggle. As a result, there is less indecisiveness, less hesitation, and more confidence in my actions. Being myself all the time (or having the awareness to realize when you’re not) means life is just easier.
I have to say, writing has been especially cathartic. All along, this hidden side of me has been desperate to come out to play and be seen! Some of my most creative moments result from a swell of emotions. However, I needed to be comfortable in Laymie’s discomfort before I could showcase her gifts to the world.
Remember at end of Harry Potter when it was finally revealed Severus Snape, one of the bad guys, turned out to be one of the good guys all along? That’s what it feels like to understand the truth of why my shadow exists. Laymie’s story feels complete.
Just a few resources I found useful:
To be Magnetic Shadow Workshop. Maybe you want to meet and draw your own spooky shadow? This is the workshop with guided meditation and reflection prompts that made it happen. It’s an overall easy, actionable, and affordable introduction to looking into the beliefs that feed your shadow.
Expanded x Ep. 140: EXPLAINED Shadow. The podcast linked to To Be Magnetic. This episode talks about how the shadow shows up in our lives.
Tara Brach’s podcast. A mindfulness teacher and clinical psychologist with a calm and gentle voice. I listened to her regularly to develop my self-acceptance and self-compassion muscle.
Beautifully written essay, Maymie. I wish life hadn't presented you with cancer as a teacher, but I so respect the student you are. You rose to the occasion(s) with so much dignity and willingness to grow (even though that's not what it feels like when you're 'Lamie'). Thank you for sharing your journey.