Recently I was frantically speeding along mid-town Manhattan to meet my sister. Weaving through crowds like a maniac, a thought popped into my mind. When I was learning about narcissistic disorders in graduate school, I asked my therapist if that was my diagnosis. “No,” he said. “You’re just a run of the mill neurotic.” I guess having to ask that question validates his answer. A narcissistic person would never ask.
Everyone can have a diagnosis, but some are more interesting than others, like the narcissist. We all know of one: in fact, the narcissist will make sure we know who they are. My diagnosis is an adjustment disorder, which essentially means I’m always anxious. As a child, my cousins and I were doing the can-can together and when we kicked up our legs, my shoe flew off my foot, through the air and landed behind the stove. Why couldn’t that have been funny? Instead, I was scared! I lost my shoe! My cousin jokingly said they’d now have to cut off one foot which made me worry even more. Everyone thought it was funny except me. It’s still not funny. But narcissists don’t think that way. Even if they fail, it’s with a flair and another way to get immersed in an exciting drama.
Having cancer did not make me anxious, but what I went through to get diagnosed did. Reaching remission made me feel victorious, but the recurrence was like tumbling down a hill so I decided to see a therapist who diagnosed me with, can you guess? An adjustment disorder! This makes me laugh at the entire mental health system. Who wrote this stuff anyway? Did they get their ideas from the makers of Chutes and Ladders? Sorry? Are they suggesting that episodes of depression, anxiety, and anger are inappropriate reactions to having cancer not just return but to be a part of my life for as long as I live? If that’s the case, then it’s like blaming the victim.
But cancer and treatment are all consuming and make an adjustment disorder seem flimsy in comparison. It makes me realize that all those years of feeling inadequate didn’t make sense. Cancer is a sudden awakening that time is running out, so I better get busy. I realized that I was coping, achieving, and managing all along but I was feeling too inadequate to know it. What a waste of energy! I envy a narcissist’s ability to think big, however, I am adjusting to cancer with anxiety, strength, and humor, using all the skills I acquired during my lifetime. It’s like the 3rd act in a play, a culmination of all that I learned about surviving but this time with acceptance.
So, on that beautiful Saturday afternoon rushing to meet my sister, burning calories along the way, I finally realized that my can-can dance always had rhythm. I took a calming breath, and my anxiety melted away. I am comfortable with who I am.