Feelings: Living with Breast Cancer Emotions

Breast cancer isn’t just a medical diagnosis—it’s an emotional rollercoaster. Today, I’m sharing the real, unfiltered side of living with breast cancer emotions: the fear, the humor, the guilt, and the hope that keeps me moving forward.

Facing the Fear

I haven’t really talked a lot about how I feel. Most of the time, I try to be positive and upbeat for the people who care about me. Honestly though, I’m scared. I’m scared it’s not contained to just one boob. I’m afraid it has spread to my lymph nodes. I’m afraid of hearing the words chemo, surgery, radiation—and of all the pain and change that comes with them.

And yes, I’m afraid of what it means to lose pieces and parts of me. Will I feel less like myself without them? That’s a question I carry quietly, while outwardly I make jokes about perkier boobs, funky wigs, and my “I got this” attitude. Humor is my armor, but beneath it lives a very human fear.

The Weight of Being a Mom

What makes this harder is knowing my kids are watching. They already had an absentee dad, and the last thing I want is to add to their worry. I don’t want them imagining their lives without me in it.

I’m not trying to live forever—none of us can—but breast cancer wasn’t supposed to be a part of their story. Now it is, and I feel guilty for putting them through it. That’s the part I don’t say out loud at family dinners or during school drop-offs. Instead, I tuck it behind a smile so they can see my strength and not my fear.

The Mind Games

Fear has a way of sneaking into dreams, into every ache and twinge. My boob hurts—sometimes I wonder if it’s real or if my brain is just inventing pain to match my anxiety. Psychosomatic or not, it’s there, buzzing in the background all the time. Living with breast cancer emotions isn’t just about medical scans and test results—it’s the constant chatter in your head reminding you what’s at stake.

Telling My Students

Then there’s school. I didn’t tell all my students, only the ones who I felt truly needed to know. I told my advisory, because we’ve been together for four years and we’re close. They deserved honesty. I also told my color guard students, since I didn’t know how my diagnosis might affect rehearsals and routines.

But beyond that? Most high school kids don’t care. That was a hard pill to swallow. Outside of my advisory, the news hasn’t made them kinder, more patient, or more supportive. If anything, their behavior has stayed the same, sometimes worse. And that stings, because you hope your vulnerability might spark empathy. Instead, I’m reminded that teenagers are still learning how to process life, and sometimes they just… don’t.

Finding Strength in the Scary

So here I am: afraid, sometimes hurting, often joking, always hoping. This is what living with breast cancer emotions looks like for me right now. It’s messy and complicated, but it’s also real. And maybe sharing it out loud helps someone else feel less alone in their own fear.

If you’re navigating breast cancer emotions and want reliable information, the
American Cancer Society’s guide to coping with the emotional impact of cancer
is a solid starting point. For a breast-cancer–specific look at feelings during diagnosis and treatment,
check out
Breastcancer.org’s page on coping with your emotions.
Both break things down in plain language and offer practical tips for the hard days.

If you’d like to keep following along on this journey, you might enjoy my post about
my “date with a vampire” BRCA gene test experience.