Speaking my Truth in the Face of Social Barriers
By: Jack Lombardo
As a cancer survivor, I can testify and say chemotherapy really sucks. What people often don’t think about is getting back to normal life. I also thought that once I would have finished my treatment, or at least gotten the strength to go back to school, everything would be normal again, but nothing was normal.
When I got back on campus and saw my friends again, I wanted to show them that I still was the same person. But how could I be the same after what I had experienced? I had been isolated for a year and was rarely exposed to large crowds; now, social situations became a source of anxiety and awkwardness rather than joyful moments with friends. People didn’t know how to approach me, and my treatment and cancer quickly became a taboo. Conversations with classmates brought feelings of awkwardness as I knew my cancer was on their mind. I understood that people were scared to mention my cancer and that they did not want to offend me. But in doing so, it made me feel lonely, and no one could understand me without talking about the thing that had consumed my life for a year.
I began to question people’s attitudes toward me. I didn’t know if they were nice to me because they had pity or if they actually cared about who I was. All the social expectations and barriers put in place by society exacerbated my feelings of loneliness and depression. As the loneliness cultivated in my life, I started to isolate myself from others to avoid awkward situations and the misperceived pity. It was then that a vicious cycle had started, where I would over analyze others’ behavior in an attempt to understand why I was being treated so nicely, and because of the overanalyzing, I would isolate myself in the effort to avoid the awkwardness. As I finished my treatment and began to regain the clarity of mind, I saw that it wasn’t others’ fault but the social barriers that were put in place. The awkwardness in our daily conversations didn’t come from my cancer but people’s uncertainty with the situation. People’s attitude with me wasn’t because of pity; it was because they were attempting to interact with me while all these social barriers made it hard to approach me.
Thankfully, a friend I hadn’t seen in a while had approached me, and we talked openly about my treatment and cancer. At the time, this was exactly what I needed, sharing my feelings openly without any barriers. If I could give anyone (who’s afraid to approach someone or address a taboo topic) advice, it would be to stop fearing asking questions about people’s experiences. You’d be surprised by their response.