Day 16 – Hello, My Name is Anxiety
I cannot believe the amount of breast cancer anxiety that is coursing through my body right now. Seriously, I’m 
having major anxiety attacks left and right, and I have to say, I am not a fan at all. Emotionally, I am going from depressed to hyped up to scared as heck. Did I make the right decision? Should I have a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy? The questions loop through my mind like a broken record, and the more I think, the tighter my chest feels.
The Stress
From the moment I was diagnosed, I thought I had my path figured out. For years, I’ve always believed that if I were ever to face breast cancer, I would choose a mastectomy without hesitation. It seemed clear, logical, and final. Yet here I am, second-guessing myself at every turn.
What complicates the stress is the voice in my head whispering questions about how others might perceive me. And honestly, it feels ridiculous—because right now, there isn’t even a “romantic someone” in my life. But still, the thought lingers. Would someone care about how my body looks after surgery? Rationally, I know the right person won’t. Emotionally, though, I find myself spiraling.
When you’re dealing with breast cancer anxiety, every tiny “what if” feels magnified a hundred times over. Am I overreacting? Or am I finally realizing the weight of the decision?
The Fear
The fear is real, and it’s not just about losing part of my body. Any surgery is scary. Add in my age, my weight, and my health history, and suddenly the risk factors loom large. And then there’s reconstruction—an even more intense surgery with a longer recovery period. That’s why my doctor suggested scheduling it over the summer.
B
ut here’s where fear takes hold: what if something goes wrong? What if I don’t heal properly? What if the cancer comes back? I try not to catastrophize, but fear has a way of worming into every quiet moment.
I’ve read about mindfulness and deep breathing exercises as ways to calm breast cancer anxiety, but when you’re staring at your future in the form of surgical dates and recovery timelines, calm doesn’t always come easily.
Add It All Up—What Do You Get?
Anxiety. Tons and tons of anxiety.
It’s the kind of anxiety that sits like a stone in your chest and follows you everywhere. Outwardly, I joke and smile. I put on the “everything’s fine” mask, and most people don’t have a clue. But inwardly, it’s exhausting. I want to cry more often than I admit. I feel like I’m split into two people: the strong, upbeat one everyone sees, and the terrified one that only surfaces in private moments—or here, in The Breast Cancer Diaries.
I know I’m not alone in this. Many people who face this diagnosis experience the same swirl of fear, self-doubt, and sleepless nights. Major organizations recognize anxiety and depression as common side effects—not just of treatment, but of the entire cancer journey. Knowing that doesn’t magically fix my breast cancer anxiety, but it reminds me my reactions are human.
How I’m Coping
I won’t pretend I have all the answers. But here are a few things that have helped me breathe through the breast cancer anxiety—at least for a moment at a time:
- Writing it out. That’s what this blog is: a place to name the fears so they don’t stay bottled up. (Related craft note from my writing life: Showing vs. Telling in Writing.)
- Seeking solid information. Learning about procedures and recovery helps replace unknowns with facts. I keep reliable sources bookmarked—like the Mayo Clinic’s mastectomy overview and the American Cancer Society’s breast cancer pages.
- Small rituals. A cup of tea, a short walk, or listening to a song I love—little anchors that bring me back to myself when the waves of anxiety feel overwhelming. When breast cancer anxiety spikes, even a two-minute reset can help.
I also used to run a positivity project called Think Positive 30; while the community isn’t active now, the habit of reframing thoughts still helps when breast cancer anxiety flares up. If you like concrete tools, here’s a quick internal resource I still share with students and readers: a printable Showing vs. Telling Cheat Sheet (PDF).
Moving Forward
The truth is, breast cancer anxiety isn’t going to vanish overnight. It’s stitched into every decision, every appointment, and every waiting room chair. But maybe that’s okay. Anxiety is my body’s way of saying, “This matters.” It’s a reminder that my life, my health, and my choices are important.
So yes, I’m scared. Yes, I question myself. Yes, I cry when no one’s looking. But I also know I’m taking steps forward. They may be shaky steps, but they are mine.
To anyone walking this same path—whether you’re at diagnosis, surgery, or recovery—I see you. You are not alone in this messy, complicated, terrifying journey. When your breast cancer anxiety feels loud, borrow my words if you need to: you are doing the best you can with something unimaginably hard.
Resources
- Mayo Clinic – Mastectomy Overview (external)
- American Cancer Society – Breast Cancer (external)
- Showing vs. Telling in Writing (internal)
- Showing vs. Telling – Printable Cheat Sheet (PDF) (internal)
