The Real Me Is Gone

What Cancer Left Behind

Cancer doesn’t just change your body. It changes you—who you are, how you feel, and what you’re capable of.

Before cancer, I was strong. I was steady. I could power through 14-hour workdays and still keep going. I didn’t get tired. I didn’t hit walls. I didn’t have to pace myself. That was me…. the real me.

But chemotherapy changed that.

The Turning Point

I was in my late 60s when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Surgery and radiation were tough, but manageable. Chemo, though—it was the predator. It didn’t just attack the cancer. It attacked me.

Now, four years later, I’m still dealing with the damage.

The physical changes are easy to describe:
• Neuropathy in my hands and feet which burn and tingle
• Slower reflexes
• More frequent falls
• Fatigue that I never used to feel

Even now—multiple years after finishing treatment—I can’t move or work like I used to. I tire out. I slow down. And I fall more than I should.

The Emotional Weight

The emotional toll? That’s harder to describe.

Sometimes, I feel like the real me is gone.

The version of me that didn’t need rest. That could work endlessly. That never had to think twice about her strength.

That part of me has faded.

Yes, I survived. But surviving and feeling whole are not the same thing.

I miss the old me. And it’s emotionally hard to sit with the realization that she likely will never fully return.

Is This the New Me?

I’m learning that cancer survivorship isn’t just about finishing treatment. It’s about learning to live with the person you’ve bec​ome.

Sometimes I wonder: Is this who I am now?

The one who tires more easily
The one who slows down
The one who’s had to let go of some of her fire

It’s a kind of grief—a grief for my old self. The person I used to be.

But maybe the real me isn’t gone. Maybe she’s just kind of evolved.

Still Here and Still Healing

Even if I don’t feel like the person I once was, there’s still strength here.

There’s strength in getting up when I don’t want to.
There’s strength in adjusting.
There’s strength in honesty.

Maybe this version of me is good enough.

Maybe she’s a better, kinder person…at least I hope so.

To Anyone Who Feels This Way

If you’ve felt this too—the loss of your “real” self due to cancer—I want you to know:
You’re not alone.

You’re not weak for feeling the loss. You’re not broken for wanting your old self back, and you’re not done growing.

We may never be exactly who we were before, but we are still here and that matters.

Consider Giving This a Try

Cancer is horrible, but some of the changes it produces in you aren’t completely bad. Just like I suspect I’ve become a more empathetic person, you will probably experience some positive changes too. As you go through this journey, keep an eye out for areas where you feel like you’re growing. Then, on days when you’re feeling discouraged about all of the very real negative changes, you can balance some of that out by reviewing your list of the positives.

(And remember, you can have a better outcome than I did by learning from my experience. Be sure to review last week’s newsletter for tips on avoiding neuropathy.)

Also, Share Your Voice

If this resonated with you—if you’ve felt this shift in identity, this grief for the “old you”—I’d love to hear from you.

Leave a comment below or share this post with someone who might need it today. We heal better when we’re not alone.