“A healthy outside starts from the inside.” ~ Robert Urich

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I am a cancer survivor. For many years, I wouldn’t even say that.

I’ll never forget the day I was diagnosed. It was Hodgkin’s Lymphoma to be exact. I was 25 years old, and it was early December.

I already knew my diagnosis was coming back positive, because deep down inside something was whispering to me—and had been for some time. Intuitively, I knew, but I’d spent the two months since I found the lump in my neck denying what I inherently knew.

At that moment, I felt stigmatized. 

I was really good at denial by that time in my life. I could tell myself anything. If it didn’t suit me, I just denied it. And I believed whatever I was telling myself—that’s the scary part.

It worked for me with problems, emotions, events, and even people. Just pretend it doesn’t exist and it will go away, right? That was my motto.

Of course, back then, this wasn’t at the forefront of my conscious mind like it is now. I wasn’t aware of it. This insight merely comes from hindsight and the clarity of vision I now practice. If I only knew then what I know now.

The truth is, I was just an avoider, overwhelmed by life and its trials and tribulations. I didn’t know how to deal with anything, so I just avoided it. I felt completely unprepared for normal life as it was at the time, so why not add a little cancer into the mix, right? To keep me on my toes or something…

The funny thing is, that’s why I ended up with cancer in the first place.

Because I was an avoider, a denier, a stuffer of my anger and bitterness. I was a stuffer of everything. I shoved it down and held on tight. I slapped some cement over the top and moved on, white-knuckling all the way. 

I ended up with cancer of the lymphatic system, no less. If you don’t know, lymph filters out all the junk from our organs and cells. All of the waste. So my body, ironically, developed a dis-ease of mutinous, out of control cell growth (cancer) within the very system meant to cleanse and purge the waste of cellular life.

If that wasn’t a screaming red flag from my body saying “clean me out, help!” I don’t know what is. But, being the champion denier of all things not suited to me, I clearly wasn’t ready to acknowledge anything of the sort. How could I let go of what I didn’t need if I couldn’t even acknowledge its existence?

I couldn’t clean anything out, because I wouldn’t admit it was there!

I couldn’t clean a mess I couldn’t see, could I? And this inability to filter my emotions, thoughts, identities, and everything else was a direct manifestation of my clouded, unbalanced, and blocked up chakra system. There are so many issues I just highlighted which point to various chakra imbalances, and it physically manifested in the form of cancer for me.

Coincidence? I think not. Just like my lymphatic system couldn’t flow and do its job filtering out the waste from my organs, my chakra system couldn’t do its job of filtering my low-density energies upward to mesh with my higher ones.

Thus, my body was a giant, cloudy, blocked up system of ick. Picture a stagnant pool of murky water just sitting there.

Most of the physical ailments I have suffered through the years illustrate exactly how interconnected the body, mind and spirit are. The physical symptoms of illness and dis-ease that I see manifesting in our physical bodies are just symptoms of something deeper. Physical symptoms are linked to emotional/mental/spiritual blocks and energetic imbalances.

My physical symptoms came in the form of ear, nose, throat, neck, and shoulder problems—and cancer. If you know me, you know how ironic this seems. Unless you believe, as I do, that our dis-ease is a physical manifestation of an energetic issue.

In hindsight I see all this, but at the time I was not aware. Honestly, I didn’t even really understand what cancer was until years later. I was so caught in avoidance, I took my diagnosis and didn’t bother to learn anything. I just found a lump, ignored it for two months, started having trouble breathing, had a biopsy, took my diagnosis with my head down and two tears, and then went on to shuffle through chemo and radiation on complete autopilot.

Like a robot—I just handled it.

I had no ability to process any of this at the time, due to my defunct chakra system, and a complete fracture of my body, mind, and spirit. I was well and truly disconnected from my emotional body by this time.

And I was so angry, but I couldn’t admit it. I was scared, but couldn’t ask for help.

Looking back, I guess I was probably in shock. Like I said, I knew deep down from the moment I found the lump and started having trouble breathing that I was sick. But I couldn’t and wouldn’t accept that.

Cancer was for the weak, and I didn’t have time for that. So hearing it come out of my doctor’s mouth was a little bit unreal.

I remember him asking me if I was okay, and if he could call someone for me, because I went to the appointment alone. That’s how I operated for most of my life. Solo. I had people—family, friends, and relationships—but they were always kept at arm’s length, on my say so.

So there I was, alone and sitting in the office of the man who had been my ear, nose, and throat surgeon for 25 years. Staring at him as he told me my positive diagnoses. I briefly remember wanting to punch him. How dare you tell me I have cancer. You lie.

Then, I just remember telling myself, No. Whatever. This was followed by, Well, this f***ing sucks, go figure. Can I catch a f***ing break? First I’m a drug addict, now I have cancer.

I almost laughed. Who signed up for this sh*t life? I wouldn’t accept this diagnosis. I remember a whole lot of inner dialogue consisting of quite a few “f*ck this’s.” 

I will not accept a death sentence and I will not be scared, my mind cried. I see now that I was scared, but I was so detached from my emotional body that I was able to deny having feelings of fear about my diagnosis and actually believe it. I was angry, but I wasn’t going to show that either.

I wanted to cry, and I wouldn’t allow myself to. 

So I went through it alone. Stone-faced and alone. A few people tried to be supportive, but I shut them down. I wouldn’t open up. My fear had too strong a hold. It was a miserable experience for me—and one that I made worse than it had to be.

Clearly, I survived. I am now cancer-free going on 12 years. I share my story to inspire others who may be going through something similar, and to share my takeaways.

We never have to be alone, but we have to break open and say something when we need help. Reach out. There’s always someone who understands.

And above all, look beyond the physical ailments and find the root of the problem on an energetic level. You never know what effect this can have on your health. Don’t hold on to energy and old hurts, because the only one who suffers is you.

May my story be of benefit to someone.

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Author: Lindsay Carricarte

Image: Author’s own

Editor: Toby Israel

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