A Memoir & Breast Cancer Emotional Survival Guide
CHRISTINA G. HIBBERT, PsyD
Surviving cancer and recovering from it are two different things.
Available now in paperback & Kindle.
What about your mind, when you suddenly can’t stop thinking about dying?
What about the grief that shows up even though nobody died?
What about your marriage, your children, your faith, your work, your body, your relationships, and your sense of who you even are anymore?
What about the trauma?
On July 17, 2019, the day I was diagnosed with Stage 1 triple-negative breast cancer at forty-four, I went looking for this book.
I found plenty of information about cancer and treatment.
I found far less about what cancer might do to the rest of me — or how to heal when treatment was over but I wasn’t okay.
So I wrote the book I wish someone had handed me.
Reluctant Warrior is part memoir and part emotional survival guide.
Through my own story — from diagnosis and treatment through seventeen surgeries, complications, loss, chronic illness, and the years that followed — I explore the emotional realities of cancer that too often go unnamed.
Each of the book’s twelve chapters focuses on something I experienced as a patient and came to understand differently as a clinical psychologist:
I’m a clinical psychologist. I spent more than two decades helping other people understand trauma, grief, identity, relationships, and healing.
And then I became the patient. I knew everything about this. And I knew nothing about it.
You are not broken. You are wounded. And wounds can heal.
Every chapter ends with a practical tool designed to help you understand what you’re experiencing and find your own way forward.
These include tools and exercises I’ve developed, taught, and used both professionally and personally:
A way to look beyond physical health and assess what’s happening mentally, emotionally, socially, and spiritually, too.
A framework for recognizing, experiencing, and working through emotions rather than avoiding or judging them.
A tool for understanding grief and giving yourself permission to grieve what you’ve lost.
Words to help when you know something is wrong but find yourself overwhelmed, dismissed, or unable to say what you need in a medical appointment.
You don’t have to buy the book to access them.
I never wanted to be a warrior. I never wanted to have to fight, or be “brave,” or “strong,” or “inspiring.” I never wanted breast cancer to wage war on me.
But wage war, it did, and here I sit–almost five years to the day I heard those life-altering words, “It is cancer” –wondering, How did I get here?
How have I not only survived, but done so with a resilience I thought I’d embodied before, but couldn’t possibly have understood until cancer invaded? How did I keep showing up and doing the things I did not want to do? How did I do so with a raw honesty and vulnerability I never could have known had cancer not blitzed me, body, mind, and soul?
How did I become the warrior I never wanted to be?
Many cancer survivors eschew being called “warrior.” They reject the implication of having to “fight,” finding the idea of “winning” at cancer reprehensible. I too have wrestled with these heavy questions: What does it mean to fight? What does it mean to win? If I die, does that mean I “lost,” that I didn’t fight hard enough to “win”?
It’s the pressure that comes with being a “cancer warrior” that we survivors most resent–the pressure to be “tough,” to be “positive,” to be “inspiring,” the pressure to “overcome” the physical, mental, emotional, social and spiritual impact of cancer while looking and acting like a cancer poster-child, when really we’re just trying to survive. We’re doing what must be done. We didn’t have a choice.
It’s only now I can see the choice that is ours: Not the choice to fight nor win, but the choice of whether we’ll show up and go through whatever we must, whether we’ll hurt, scream, fall apart, and after, whether we’ll get up and begin again.
Real warriors aren’t pristine & smiling in their uniforms. They’re beat up, bloodied, battle-worn, and they’re showing up, doing the things that no one wants to do. Real war is messy, grueling, and traumatic. Cancer treatment is messy, grueling, and traumatic. Be it braving the treatments, or choosing no treatment at all; be it confronting the trauma, experiencing the grief, or making ourselves be where we do not want to be, but are: warriors do what must be done. We do what must be done.
I am a warrior.
So are you.
We’re warriors not because we fight or even win, but because we honor the war and its devastating aftermath. We keep showing up and we do so despite the untold horrors we face–the ongoing medical issues, mental health struggles, stress, loss and trauma that are part of every war. Reluctant as we may be to consider ourselves “brave” to simply cope with whatever life brings, I see bravery in showing up. I see bravery in acknowledging painful thoughts, emotions, and experiences. I see bravery in doing what must be done, in allowing whatever comes to be.
Christina G. Hibbert, PsyD
Available now in paperback & Kindle.
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10 Responses
I have always loved true stories!!! After a year of marriage I was diagnosed with mental illness. That illness evolved over time but there was a point of 20 yrs I was over drugged and begged my drs to help me. I didn’t know what other drs to go to this was before telehealth. Then my interest in true stories evolved to true stories of how people overcame or dealt with their trials. I read a lot of books! I needed to be inspired I needed hope! During that 20 yr period I was asleep most days. I occasionally forced myself to do things like go to the gym, care for a friend’s child, going to church and trying to find joy every day. But it was painful. I didn’t receive the “good feelings” reciprocating back to me for doing the things I loved! I felt hopeless. I thought at times, God was punishing me. But I tried to remember what I knew and had felt before my illness. I had joy! I loved life! I loved being around people! I could feel the Spirit and it was invigorating! I looked for small evidences God loved me and knew my situation. I kept trying to study scripture, go to church and serve others. And then there were those days I didn’t do those things. I know now those imperfect offerings were being perfected by Jesus as only He can. I now want to inspire others, share my story, share goodness and light. And help others know there is HOPE IN THE FACE OF OPPOSITION. I did. I self published on amazon. I think so many I know could benefit whether educating themselves or sympathizing with them.
Thank you for sharing this Lacy. It is truly inspiring how you not only have survived and grown but have shared your story through your book. It is incredible! I admire you and your strength & “Hope in face of opposition”! <3
I need to say how proud I am of you and your mission to help others.
This book I know will become a beacon of hope for many and I can’t wait to continue reading as you have the energy to write ✍️
Thank you so much Karin. It’s a small start and I have a long way to go but at least I have begun.
Thrilled you have come so far in chronicling your unique journey. Sure to be valuable to those going through cancer and those who support them. I think that is all of us!!💕💯
So true. If breast cancer alone is 1 in 8, then include other cancers & family members and friends who need support, I agree it’s pretty much all of us. Love you! 😘
Thank you for sharing so openly and courageously. Reading about Reluctant Warrior and your journey through breast cancer — not just as a disease, but as a crucible that tested your body, mind, and soul — reminds me how much strength and resilience are hidden behind quiet honesty. What stands out most is your refusal to romanticize suffering or pretend the journey was easier than it was. You acknowledge the pain, the disappointments (like the contest submission mishap), and the emotional weight that comes with long-term treatment, surgeries, and complications. That kind of honesty is rare, and I believe it will resonate so deeply with anyone who has faced—or is facing—illness, grief, or trauma.
I also love how you frame survival not in terms of “winning” or “overcoming” but in showing up, doing the hard and often unseen work of healing, and allowing yourself to feel the hurt, the fear, and still choose to live and hope.
Thank you for reading and for your honest feedback. I am grateful!
I am nearly 10 years out from active treatment and only just processing everything. Reading your writing I finally feel seen for the first time.
I have been trying to write my own thoughts down and am stuck in a loop of disbelief, loathing and drive to just not show they I’m struggling daily. It’s exhausting and yet I’m proud to have had the resilience to come this far.
Thank you for your message. I’m so sorry for all you’re going through. I understand. It’s a tough “life” after. I’m still finding my way too. You are absolutely resilient! Sending prayers and love your way.