*This client wishes to remain anonymous
I knew I had cancer before I was officially diagnosed. I can’t help but wonder if the things I’ve endured and overcome have contributed to the stress and toll on my body, and at the same time, if those very hardships have built the resilience and strength I now draw on to face the battles ahead.
I’m one of six siblings, and while we all have different perspectives on life and unique experiences growing up, I wish each of them the best in dealing with and overcoming whatever they need to face.
No more sweeping things under the carpet. No more pretending to be perfect or “happy shiny” people. Instead, I want us to be transparent, honest overcomers. People who don’t hide behind religion or Jesus, but who walk with Him through the good times and the bad. No more toxic positivity.
I’ve heard my story told by many mouths, but no one knows my story, or myself, better than I do.
So, here goes.
Life was tough growing up. I was mostly raised by my beautiful grandparents out in the country. I have so many fond memories of them and the farm I came to love. Their home was always full of love and a refuge from the home life we had. My grandparents were strong and steadfast in their faith, and as long as I can remember, we went to church every Sunday, and I loved it.
From an early age, I was sexually abused by my father. He falsely told me that this was how he showed his love and that it was our secret. This made me believe that somehow I was “special,” even though I was too young to understand. Now I know it was wrong. This continued until around my 16th birthday.
As I became more aware of what was happening, I decided to use the situation to my advantage. I carried a lot of guilt, feeling like I knew what I was doing. I used it to get alcohol, cigarettes, money, all the things a teenager thought were cool and that I wouldn’t normally have been allowed.
My parents separated when I was young. While my mum tried to navigate the separation, we were sent back and forth between my grandparents’ farm and my dad’s house. I remember my mum’s care as toxic, abusive, chaotic, and terrifying. There was no real consistency or stability for us kids growing up, though I’m sure she did what she knew how to do.
To escape, I lived in a fantasy world. I immersed myself in books, walks on the beach, and the farm. These were my safe places, anywhere but home. I loved school; it was a relief to be away from the house and something I looked forward to. Eventually, we moved in permanently with my father and stepmum, and that’s when school became a battleground, and I began to rebel.
I fell pregnant at 16 and because I had disclosed what had happened with my Dad to the father of my son, it all became a nightmare. He would use that information against me and accuse our son of being my father’s.
It’s obvious he wasn’t because he looked exactly like his father. But he would use it as a weapon and to get me to do anything he wanted. At the time it was devastating because I thought he was the love of my life. It was at this time that I met Barbara (NKMP Cancer Kaiarahi), who was working at Plunket.
She made a huge impact on me and helped me to get through a lot in those earlier years.
My life has been full of obstacles.
I’ve smoked marijuana for the majority of my adult life to try help with the anxiety and pain, and had a short period were I dabbled in methamphetamine.
I hoped that these things would numb what I felt. At the time I just wanted to die and I hoped that someone would kill me. Most of the time I wouldn’t even smoke it. That whole world scared me but also made me very sad! All I seen in that world were people just like me who hadn’t been listened to and suffered various and more horrendous abuse than me. I had become an expert at hiding how I truly felt by this stage.
Later on, I met a man who had his own issues and obstacles to overcome. As I supported him through these challenges, I got to know him well, and myself even more. He became like a mirror to me, highlighting that I wasn’t as healed or over my childhood trauma as I had convinced myself I was.
I admired him for his attitude, his acknowledgment of his struggles and his willingness to change, especially around sensitive issues. I wished my father could have been half the man he was at the time and publicly acknowledge what he had done, instead of pushing the narrative that I was a liar making things up. I tried many times to talk through this with my dad, to get him to tell the truth and take accountability. By then, I had become an expert at sweeping things under the carpet. I believed forgiveness meant silence: Don’t speak, cover the lies.
My now husband and I got married and had a daughter, my angel. Watching her grow made me reflect deeply. It sickened me to think that I had once been as small and vulnerable as she was, and I couldn’t understand how anyone could do those terrible things to a child. That pain drove me deeper into myself and into depression.
We went on to have two more children who teach me something new every day. My little family is my whole world, and I love them all deeply.
Just before I had my fourth child, I made the decision to report my father for what he did. Whether it was right or wrong, I felt I needed to do it to finally begin real healing. I became increasingly angry toward both my parents as I realized how sick it was, and how sick I had been, to cover for them at the expense of my own health. I needed to take responsibility for the dangerous behaviours and thoughts I was having. It felt like either I do this, or I end my own life.
I chose life. Life for my husband and children, and the hope of a different future. I wanted to break toxic cycles, the codependency, the silence, the sweeping things under the carpet. I wanted to be a better mum, wife, sister, and friend. I chose myself, because until I got well, I couldn’t be any of those things.
I did not anticipate the police would take over and have him charged. My hope had only been that he would be scared enough to stop lying all the time. But now, I’m not worried about it at all. I made the right decision. I have forgiven both my mother and father. Forgiveness is an important part of healing.
After all of this, I gave birth to my fourth child. But something wasn’t right. I could feel it. I learned to trust my body and knew I was the expert on it. Every time I was pregnant, I could feel it from the very beginning.
Not long after, I had an ectopic pregnancy. That’s when doctors noticed abnormal growth. They initially dismissed it, attributing it to my weight and something called “polyps,” which they said was common and nothing to worry about. Eventually, I had a full hysterectomy, and the biopsy revealed it was cancer: leiomyosarcoma, a rare soft tissue cancer.
I’m very strong-willed and stubborn, and I was reluctant to let them biopsy my tissue, but I’m so grateful to the Māori support worker at the hospital who told me some hard truths and helped me push through. Without that, my diagnosis might never have been confirmed.
My surgeon was amazing, and my markers came back showing that all the cancer had been removed. Of course, he’s human, and there are no guarantees for anyone.
It was around this time that Barbara and the Cancer Kaiarahi Service came into my life. I was so relieved to have Barbara back in my life. I needed and trusted her, and she helped me throughout my cancer battle and would often check in on me and help me to understand medical jargon. She gave me the hope that I wasn’t going to die.
I also started attending Manaaki Manawa, the Cancer Support Group. Because of my distrust of the faith community around me, I thought, It can’t hurt to get support and hear others’ stories of hope and overcoming. I loved going to the support group. Everyone was real, with real stories to tell. The group has been a saviour for me. Without Barbara and this group, I would have struggled; I would have been completely isolated. The food was so good and there were a lot of laughs. I was really sad to leave.
But my husband and children decided that we would start a new life overseas. It was scary and exhilarating all at once. As a family, we had to overcome quite a lot of obstacles to stay together. Some of those were self-inflicted because of our histories and choices, addictions, betrayal within the marriage, and just a lot of toxic behaviours we had been modelled. It wasn’t easy. There were many hard conversations, and I didn’t know if we would make it through. But we’re not our parents. Although we face similar situations, we have the choice to do things differently, no matter how hard it is at the time.
There were many times, I'm sure for him too, when we wanted to give up and go our separate ways, but our faith has guided us through every storm. I am so proud of what we’ve achieved together: owning and renovating a home through all the chaos, selling a home, and relocating to a new country I never could have imagined living in.
Before I left New Zealand, I had been having regular check-ups because I wasn’t feeling well again. I remember the doctor telling me, If you start to feel like you did before, get checked. I had a scan before I left NZ, and it was clear, but my body was telling me otherwise.
Coming to a humid country in the thick of summer was tough, a different kind of torture. I mean, who the heck does that? I struggled big time with the changes, being overweight and just not feeling well the whole time was hard on all of us. Eventually, I ended up in an ambulance and had a hospital visit, which, incidentally, found that the cancer had metastasized to my lung.
I’m currently waiting for surgery, but thankfully things have moved quite fast here. Although I’m nervous about what’s to come, I know I’m in great hands. It was hard to leave Southland, I love where I come from, but I’m grateful for the opportunity for my family to see something outside of what we’ve always known. It feels like a fresh start: never forgetting or denying the past but taking all the valuable lessons and mountains and valleys we’ve navigated and putting them into practice as we keep raising these children.
I’m also grateful for the expertise of health professionals here, just like at home. Although I have good days and bad days, sad days and happy days, I know I’ll get through this just like I did before.
I have a wonderful support system here, and I still talk to Barbara from overseas! It’s an honour to share a small part of my story for the Cancer Kaiarahi service, and I would recommend it to anyone who needs help understanding the processes and medical jargon, or just wants a laugh. You know what they say: laughter is the best medicine, right?
I’ve had many people come alongside me along the way to counsel, support, love, and propel me into change, but that really is a decision only I could make. I’ll never forget any of those people, and I appreciate every single one of them.
This is my story - in my words, my way, my voice. To our Heavenly Father be all the glory.
