Survivorship is full of polarities. There’s a push of “you should be all better now” and a pull of “I’m anything but better now.” Let’s make space for where you really are. I’m hearing that you’re juggling chronic illness, maybe even chronic pain, while also trying to take care of yourself, be an adult, pay bills, and show up as an employee. That’s a lot, and I’m probably only touching the surface!

Job insecurity carries real risk, and I don’t want to diminish or invalidate that, especially since you’ve already lived through losing a job during treatment. At the same time, I can hear how the fear of it happening again is starting to get in the way of day-to-day things like taking breaks when you need them, calling out sick, or advocating for yourself.

Giving yourself permission to take care of your body starts from within, and that often begins with self-compassion. You mentioned that caring for yourself was already hard before cancer entered the room. Survivorship can be an opportunity to gently renegotiate that relationship with yourself. Developing more self-understanding and compassion may help you rebuild trust in your own needs and limits.

If you’re open to exploring this, I’d recommend looking into the work of Kristin Neff, who researches and teaches self-compassion. Her workbook, guided meditations, and free online resources can be a helpful starting place: https://self-compassion.org/. Practicing self-compassion regularly can slowly help retrain your brain to respond with kindness toward yourself in moments of overwhelm instead of criticism or fear.

Speaking of fear, what you’re describing can also be deeply connected to anxiety. Your brain is doing what brains do best: trying to predict outcomes in order to keep you safe. The trouble is that sometimes that protective system goes into overdrive. Which, let’s be real, makes sense inside of cancer because you’ve really been through it! 

When you notice fear (whether that’s job loss or any other kind) rising, I’d encourage you to approach it with curiosity rather than judgment. That might sound counterintuitive, because most of us want to avoid fear as quickly as possible. But curiosity can help you gather important information about what you actually need in those moments.

For example, you might notice that fear shows up physically, maybe your breathing gets shallow, or your body feels restless. In that case, regulating your body through breathing or grounding exercises might help. Or maybe fear pulls you into spiraling thoughts and worst-case scenarios (honestly, relatable). In those moments, it may help to gently redirect your thinking or talk through those fears with someone you trust.

And if the fear continues to feel overwhelming, working with a qualified therapist can help navigate those patterns.

As far as advocacy goes, I want to say this clearly: advocating for your needs isn’t selfish. It isn’t a sign that you’re unreliable. It’s part of taking care of yourself so that you can keep showing up in your life and work.

If workplace accommodations might be helpful for you, I also want to point you toward a nonprofit called Cancer and Careers, which provides excellent guidance on navigating employment after cancer. They offer resources on things like intermittent FMLA, flexible work arrangements, and understanding your rights in the workplace: https://www.cancerandcareers.org/en/at-work/back-to-work-after-cancer

The truth is that we live in a culture that often prioritizes productivity and hustle over wellness and balance. Protecting your health may sometimes mean learning how to ask for flexibility or support.

At its heart, a lot of what we’re talking about here is rebuilding trust with yourself. Survivorship, and maybe even this upcoming 30th birthday, can be an invitation to try something new: listening to your body and honoring its limits, even when fear tells you there might be consequences.

You deserve a life that includes stability, self-compassion, and room to heal at your own pace.

Standing with you as you learn to take up space,
Perrie