On how having a brain tumor has changed her:
"This whole thing has been such a gift. This happened for a reason. I'm a communicator...Before the brain tumor, I was super Type A. I was on top of everything. I would know when your birthday was and make sure you had your flowers. I was everything to everyone, but nothing to myself. I didn't know it at the time, but there was no self-compassion, no self-love. I didn't think I deserved it. I was too busy being, like, 'Shit! I've got to get to my five o'clock appointment, then my seven o'clock, then feed the dogs, and, oh my god, I've got to wake up and do this and this... ' I had become a machine.
I started setting boundaries after my mom's diagnosis. One day I found myself telling her, 'Hold on, I can't talk right now. I've got to... ' Then I realized: I'm telling my mom, who has stage IV brain cancer, to hold on?! That's not okay. That's when I said, 'Things have to change. I'm going to spend time with her.' And I did. I no longer scheduled anything after 4 p.m. I would say, 'Mom, I'm going home, and we'll watch Dancing with the Stars, eat dinner, and have fun.' I felt so happy, like, 'I'm not a machine—I'm a human!' But I'm also not perfect, so things would creep up and people would creep in. They want things and you feel guilty, so you do them. The universe took notice: 'I'm going to throw a bigger rock at your head now and really put a stop to this.'"
On getting diagnosed:
"I hadn't had a primary-care physician in eight, nine years. Do you know how many times I postponed the MRI that found my tumor? At least three times! Just a few months after we found my mom's brain cancer, I started having similar symptoms: blurred vision, light-headedness, headaches. I was having trouble speaking. But my mom's tumor was growing, and I thought, I don't have time to deal with my own issue, whatever it is. We're so empathetic with everyone except ourselves. You see a sick person who's family, a friend, a colleague, and you say, 'How can I help you?' But if it's you, it's, 'I don't have time for you, illness!' My symptoms got so bad, though, that I had to deal with it.
When I found out about my tumor, I didn't cry. I was told there was a good chance the tumor was benign, but to know for sure, I needed brain surgery. Dr. Keith Black, my neurosurgeon, called with two potential dates. I said, 'Well, June 8th is my birthday, and I'm thinking about this as a rebirth, so that's perfect!'
The only time I cried was when I told people. I had tried IVF, so the first thing my parents and friends thought when I called with news was, 'You're pregnant!' I had to say, 'No, it's not good news.' The hardest part was telling my inner circle, people like Vin Diesel, Tony Robbins, Wilmer Valderrama. But they were wonderful. They told me how much I mean to them—things people usually say at your funeral, but I got to hear them while I am alive. Wilmer said, 'Maria, you're a mama bear. You take care of us. You never ask for anything.' I'm like, 'Are you talking about me?' I didn't even realize what or who I was, because I was so focused on work and trying to be perfect."
On her fiance Kevin:
"Keven's been my savior. He never left my side in the hospital. I was crying, 'I just want to get married! I want to have kids!' I've been pushing the wedding thing, but he said, 'Listen, I'm working on something.' For a minute, the type A came right back: 'You can't surprise me with a wedding! I need a dress!' But he said, 'You're on a need-to-know basis.' I think he really doesn't want me to stress.
Would you believe me if I told you that the brain tumor is the best thing that ever happened to me? It's freed me from all of that anxiety of having to be perfect. You can't control everything; leave it to God and just say, 'Okay, this is my journey.'"
Read the full article at Women's Health.
No comments:
Post a Comment