When You Feel Excluded
Creating a Pinktober Sense of Belonging
The main character in the fabulous book Boy in the World by Niall Williams is an intelligent, thoughtful boy who feels like he has been “almost invisible” his whole life: “In the place where he lived the boy had no friends. Perhaps because of his great intelligence, he had found himself living on the edge of things for his entire childhood. In the classroom many might elbow him and ask in whispers for the answer to questions in English or History or Geography, but once in the open spaces of the yard they quickly ignored him.” The exclusion made him feel flawed, that something about him “did not work the way things should. He imagined sometimes there was within him a real but invisible damage. And it was this of which he was most afraid.”[1]
Everyone knows the experience of being left out and excluded. There’s even an acronym for it: FOMO. Underneath the fear of missing out, however, lives a more profound fear of not mattering or counting. This can be internalized as being “off” or “flawed.” Watch young siblings interact and how the younger one insists on being included. “Me too!” she insists as her older sister is given the attention. It’s an innate need to be heard and seen. From the toddler’s demands to the elderly’s doubts if anyone really cares and people in-between being excluded breeds questions like, “Did they exclude me on purpose? What’s wrong with me?” Such questions send them down rabbit holes of self-doubt and hurt whereby they evaluate others’ actions as slights and rejection. Do you feel excluded? Is there someone in your social circle who feels this way?
In a push toward greater awareness, I want to highlight a special group of people often overlooked. As you may know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Pink proliferates on pins, bracelets, posters, shirts, sports uniforms, jackets, socks, shoes, and helmets, just about anything that is sold. Battle metaphors and survivorship language build up the masses to give and spend to find a cure. As a two-time breast cancer survivor, I feel a mixture of emotions from gratitude to skepticism over Pinktober, gratitude for the attention and resources expended to find a cure and skepticism that, despite enormous efforts in the areas of prevention and early detection over the past two decades, little has changed. Yet, more is needed until there is a cure.
There’s a special group within the BC community that needs mention. One day (only one) in the month of October, the 13th, is devoted to metastatic breast cancer (MBC). When cancer reaches Stage IV, it is metastatic, meaning it has moved out from its original location and is actively spreading to other places like the organs, bones, liver and/or brain. The five-year survival rate of MBC is 22%. MBC is not curable, and thus the battle and survivor language is not only inadequate but excludes the MBC community. At best one hopes to achieve a quality of life and celebrate surviving to welcome another Pinktober, but ongoing treatment and setbacks are an everyday reality of life. The challenges this community faces are formidable.
I often read the stories from the MBC community in my various breast cancer online communities, and I have learned that these people are tough! But they’re also real, and they share their unique struggles with one another and those willing to listen. Abigail Johnson is a prolific blogger on her website “No Half Measures.” There’s also a site called “Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer” that produces a weekly round-up of posts from other bloggers. I urge you to check them out to inform yourself someone you know with breast cancer. It will enrich your life.
Blogger Barbara Jacoby wrote this about Pinktober: “And for those who have lost the battle to breast cancer, believe me when I say that is not the reason that they want to be remembered. They want to be remembered for the loving, caring, giving and wonderful mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmothers or friends that they were” (https://www.letlifehappen.com/what-breast-cancer-awareness-month-means-to-me/). Why not drop the battle language and survivor talk with someone you know who has MBC and simply listen and enter into their unique pain and profound uncertainty. Listen to what it’s like to be a forever patient. Find out how they get up each morning, how they deal with their young children and families, and how they find meaning and hope in the chaos. They may not want to be a burden on others, but they need others to “bear their burdens.” You will give them an inestimable gift and you will be blessed.
If you are looking for honesty and encouragement and a way forward through a disrupter like breast cancer or other losses related to career, divorce, or death, or if you want to help a friend, you might want to check out my book Life After Why available at Amazon and other places. I talk about my challenges with breast cancer and other disrupters and offer practical steps for moving ahead. I want to help you feel less confused and panicked and offer you a usable game plan. Many of us have friends and relatives with new diagnoses who are struggling to find a way forward. This might be a good way to help someone you know.
Exclusion is a universal experience. If you’re feeling left out it’s easy to withdraw and isolate. Acknowledge your feelings, but don’t be mastered by them. You know the vise grip of exclusion, but you also know the warm embrace of inclusion. Is there someone in your circle in need of that embrace? Try reaching out. Enter into the pain of their exclusion. Be curious and ask questions. Listen to the unique challenges of being a forever patient or whatever their challenges are. Pour out the balm of kindness on that person and notice how it creates a sense of belonging for yourself and another.
[1] Williams, Niall. Boy in the World. Harper, 2008
Check out my book at: https://www.amazon.com/Life-After-Sheri-Entz-Blackmon/dp/1666793949