Imagine being 28 and single, being told you have cancer, and not thinking about if you survived, how this would impact your dating life.

I think a majority of us can say that wasn’t even a thought, mainly because we were scared shitless and just praying to live.

But once the dust settles, once you start to gain some normalcy back, the reality sets in. And if you are anything like myself, you aren’t just recovering from treatment. You are recovering mentally, emotionally AND physically. You are dealing with a new reality that nobody prepared you for.

I remember when I first started dating, I wore my prosthetic breasts A LOT. Mainly because I went from a DD to completely flat, and struggled with that. Hell, I still struggle with it, not as bad as before but it’s still there.

Lingering in the back, I don’t think I have fully accepted it and struggle with the idea of surgery. Given I had two very invasive surgeries, it’s hard to imagine any more.

For a while I struggled with when do you tell a guy you have no breasts?

How will he react?

If I never say anything, and we ever become intimate he will find out. So I can’t hide it forever!

I remember the first time I said something to a guy I was seeing, I was deathly afraid and sent it via text. I explained about my cancer journey and how I was in remission but that some of the end results weren’t just mentally and emotionally but physically as well (aka I have no boobs, right now). His response cracked me up. But overall, he didn’t care, and commended me on my journey. That helped me in more ways than he would ever know.

Eventually, I started developing this attitude, it was kind of odd but it helped.

You see, I was always angry about my journey.

I was angry that I had to fight for my life.

I had to fight to survive something that shouldn’t have been there to begin with. And I wanted to stop giving that cancer so much power over me.

So, I changed the narrative.

I changed the tone and treated it in a lighter sense. As I continued to date, it became part of just a regular conversation. And the more I treated the thought of it as if it were a common cold, the easier it was to talk about.

I’d start off by saying, “when I was sick….”. Most of the time it would lead to, “what do you mean?” I usually laugh, and calmly explain that I had cancer. Eventually their shock would die down and they’d ask questions like what kind, am I okay now etc. I’d apologize for being so nonchalant about it (because you never know if someone has a personal experience with it). Because I never want to offend with my “it’s not a big deal” attitude. I mean, I was essentially doing that for ME anyway.

After feeding them bits and pieces, they’d commend me on my strength and my response would always be, “that’s life, shit happens”. For whatever reason, that mentality for me has worked wonders.

A. Because men stopped seeing me as a cancer patient/victim and instead seen how I decided to handle adversity and a debilitating disease. And B. it helped me cope with my own internal struggle of accepting my journey.

If things progressed then I’d wait a few weeks/few more dates in and tell them about what I’m missing physically. And like the first man, they typically don’t give a crap lol (who knew men were so easy ).

I can say though, that mentality, that take on my journey made me feel a million times better. And don’t get me wrong, I still have my moments when it comes to dating. I still allow my anxiety to surface every once in a while and still question my methods.

I still look in the mirror and get down on myself because of how much my physical appearance was altered. But I have accepted that It’s all a process and we are what we make of it.

I can sit and wallow at the fact that I lost two years of my 20’s and my breasts and have to explain it over and over again. Or I can change how it makes me feel by changing how I speak on it.

Dating has actually been one of the best coping mechanisms I have had yet. And while I’m not fully healed, I know eventually I will get to a point where none of this will matter anymore.

Until then, I’ll continue to take these post journey effects, one day at a time.