In October of 2002 I spent the four weeks of Breast Cancer Awareness Month wondering if they were going to be my last. I was diagnosed myself on the first day of the month, and I finally collapsed into my recliner on Halloween after being discharged from my overnight at the hospital. Surgery was behind me, but now I had a new body (and new way of life) to get used to.
Once I had healed from my mastectomy and some sparse down dotted my bald head after chemotherapy, I was fitted for a prosthetic breast form. I had decided against reconstruction—my husband was recovering from multiple surgeries following a serious burn injury and I wasn’t eager to spend more time in the hospital only to face a possibly less-than-ideal outcome. My fitter explained that, even though I had previously had trouble finding bras that fit due to my small size, going without a form might create an imbalance in my body as I moved through daily activities. This made some sense to me, and I appreciated how clingy clothing fell over my new breast.
I settled into a regular yoga practice several years later, once I was able to appreciate how beautiful and strong it made me feel, the timeout it provided my brain, and the sense of freedom it gave my soul. My one concern about attending group classes was that my breast form kept slipping out of my top. But yoga gave me so much self-confidence that one day I just tossed it to the side of my mat. When none of the other students—or my teacher—seemed to notice or care, I knew I had discovered something much deeper than exercise. Yoga is the ultimate form of self-care.
Yoga’s lessons are much more than physical. When we get a glimpse at what’s underneath, it becomes clear that where our essence lies. I think that’s why, once I had completed my first Yoga Teacher Training in 2015, I just didn’t feel right trying to wear my breast form in the studio while I was leading others in the practice that taught me where to find my true self. I find this even more important now when I’m teaching Yoga4Cancer classes. While I’m happy to wear my breast form outside the studio, I don’t feel comfortable wearing it when I’m doing asana or meditation, connecting with me.
Most of the time I think nothing of the fact that I need to put on another article of clothing in order to look like most women. But sometimes my scar and sunken right side remind me of those who have gone before me, and of those who might come into the studio and need an example of the importance of things far deeper than the physical.
