There is something about a group of women getting together and opening up to each other. When women trustfully share with each other their most intimate feelings, whether physical or emotional, and with so much vulnerability, a magical healing of the soul occurs.
You notice that you look forward to the meets and see those as unique gifts of time, even if they were just over a simple coffee. You can’t wait to hear their news and share yours. So many experiences that you know only they will comprehend. Whether you’re happy with a recipe tweak or unhappy about some bloating, you know your “sisters” will get you. You can’t wait to share or hear their take on social happenings, professional feats, some female bodily phenomena, and family episodes. Or that new hair color you just got, which only they will notice (and you pray they will like).
In your sisterhood, you find your personal stylist and fashion consultant, your private shopping guide, your informed book reviewer, your confidential psychiatrist, your connoisseur food critic, your expert on all family matters; your connection to the world. Then there’s “your mentor, your cheerleader, your emergency contact, the woman of faith, your listener, the blunt and honest.” In other words, in your sisterhood, you find your very own particular army of soul healers.
After my ordeal- maybe even before, I am not sure – I slowly became aware of a sense of a broadening “sisterhood” forming around me. A sisterhood that, at first, subtly but surely contributed to my general wellbeing and later to my psychological healing, a restorative power women have for each other. Some imparted it better than others, of course. But almost all the women I interacted with during my affliction demonstrated instinctive compassion, understanding, and empathy.
Mom, daughters, sisters, sisters-in-law, friends. Yoga instructor, physiotherapist, book club buddy, personal trainer. Documentarist, nurse, BC support group. There were so many heartwarming gestures and moving actions that brightened my days. Mounira came over every day and took charge of lunch. Hanan got me a medicinal culture to boost my immunity. For months, Nouhad texted me every morning to check up on me! Noel came and prayed with me. Kim told me which shampoo to use. Iman shared the addresses of suppliers of mastectomy underwear. And Nina shared complementary remedies. Women of all ages and walks of life shared photos of themselves on their social media platforms wearing scarves on their heads in solidarity with me. “Sisters” brought fresh flowers, sweet bites, inspirational books, laughs, and an overwhelming gush of warm, uplifting amity. Women I barely knew gave me that empathetic smile and nod, saying, “I may not be in your immediate circle, but I AM here for YOU.” An endless list of women called and visited regularly while other Breast Cancer survivors assured me things would improve. And they DID!
“Sisters” cried with me, and they cried for me. It wasn’t sympathy, like that meme I came across on the internet that said: “I won’t tell you to get over it; I am here to help you get through it!” They texted. They called. They cheered. There was an unspoken – almost telepathic – invisible curing vibe whenever there were women involved.
For a while, I needed to take literal and mental photos of such gatherings to “document” the moments when I was in the company of women and was consciously aware of their healing power in “real time.” I wanted to hold on to that comforting conveyance of therapy for as long as I could.
TODAY
Feelings of awe and appreciation persist even now. It is enough to read through what I jotted down almost five years ago for my eyes to tear up. The thought that I haven’t paid anyone back properly for their support and kindness sometimes lies heavy on my heart. But then I think – I pray – may none of them ever see adversity, and may they never need me to pay them back. Instead, I see now that it is time to focus on paying it forward. I am grateful for my BC support group that offers me a chance to do this, and I am always keen on having long chats and sharing my experience with recent BC patients who call upon me for counsel and reflection. Having experienced the magical healing powers of “sisterhood” firsthand, I gladly set time aside to convey healing vibes to my fellow afflicted “sisters.”
They say, “behind every successful woman is a community of other successful women who have her back.” I say, behind every healed female soul is a group of women who root for her and send her uplifting vibes.
