Cancer Survivors Aren’t Superhuman: It’s Time to Change the Conversation

The Current Narrative is a Lie

Battling cancer as a young woman feels eerily similar to the birth narrative of the 1980s, before we acknowledged the realities of postpartum depression or the fact that having a baby could drastically change a woman’s life. Back then, the focus was all on the pregnancy and birth—the joy of bringing life into the world—while the aftermath was largely ignored. It was as if, once you had a beautiful baby, everything should be perfect. But as we now know, that’s far from the truth. The post-birth period can be incredibly difficult and life-altering, and many women were left to struggle in silence.

If you compare this to how we handle cancer today, it’s frighteningly similar. The emphasis is all on the battle—the treatment, the fight, and eventually the remission—without acknowledging what comes after. Cancer is the childbirth of 1988, complete with that demoralizing bell you’re supposed to ring at the end of treatment, as if to signal that everything is now fine. But what no one tells you is that survivorship isn’t the finish line. In fact, for many, it’s when the real challenges begin. The trauma, the physical aftermath, and the mental strain don’t magically disappear once treatment ends. Yet, the world celebrates your “victory” and expects you to move on, as if your life hasn’t been turned upside down.

Just like the birth narrative has shifted over time to recognize the complexities and struggles that follow childbirth, we need to change the narrative around cancer survivorship, especially for young survivors. We can’t keep pretending that remission is the end of the story, because for so many of us, it’s just the beginning of a whole new battle.

The Cost of Staying Alive

For survivors of relapsed or late-stage aggressive cancers, the cost of staying alive is steep—far beyond what most people can imagine. I never envisioned myself in my late 30s losing the career I had worked so tirelessly to build, watching my savings drain away on treatments and medications, or grappling with the heartbreaking reality of losing my fertility and entering early menopause. These aren’t just side effects—they are life-altering losses that ripple through every part of who you are.

But the physical toll is only part of the story. Mentally, I carry the weight of trauma from countless invasive procedures, the anxiety of knowing I’m not invincible, and the relentless emotional rollercoaster of mourning the life I once had while trying to build a new one. I had to fight like hell to pull myself out of the grip of depression—one that hit me like a freight train when I thought the hardest part was supposed to be over. And I did it all while looking in the mirror at a completely unrecognizable version of myself, stripped of my hair and any semblance of the person I once knew. No one warns you that surviving cancer comes with an entirely new battle—one that’s invisible to the world and barely acknowledged by the medical community.

But perhaps the most isolating part of survivorship is being surrounded by people who simply can’t understand. They haven’t lived through the relentless losses, the constant uncertainty, or the mental battle it takes just to keep going. Being a young cancer survivor is a rare kind of trauma, one that makes finding support even more challenging. So, I withdrew—isolating myself in an attempt to process everything, afraid that if I let my guard down in public, I might completely break. And let me tell you, it’s a strange, lonely place to be—existing in a world that celebrates your survival while you quietly sift through the wreckage left behind.

Survivorship isn’t the victory lap everyone thinks it is. For many of us, it’s a path filled with grief, trauma, and hard-fought resilience. And while I’m grateful for every day I’m still here, that gratitude does not mask the negative feelings or emotions.

Survivors Aren’t Superhuman

Herein lies the real problem of survivorship: as a society, we seem to believe that staying alive trumps all else. The focus is so heavily placed on survival that everything else is minimized or dismissed. For instance, if a woman were to lose her fertility unexpectedly, we would offer her endless empathy, understanding that the loss would impact her for the rest of her life. We wouldn’t expect her grief to have an expiration date. Yet, when a woman loses her fertility because of cancer, the response is often, "at least you're alive." It’s as if the loss is somehow less significant because it was a trade-off for survival.

This mentality assumes that as survivors, we’re supposed to be superhuman—able to endure monumental losses without feeling anything but gratitude. We’re expected to ignore the emotional devastation, brush off the grief, and wear our survival like a badge of honor. But the reality is, losing your fertility, your career, your health, or any part of your identity due to cancer isn’t just a "small price to pay." These losses are profound and life-altering, yet we’re often told—or made to feel—that we should just be grateful for being alive.

And that’s where the silence comes in. Gratitude becomes a weight, keeping many of us quiet because expressing anything other than happiness feels wrong. If we dare to talk about the pain, the trauma, or the immense emotional toll, it’s often met with discomfort or dismissal. We don’t want to seem negative or ungrateful, so we suffer silently.

Survivors are expected to focus only on their "second chance" at life, while the deep, lasting emotional wounds remain unspoken and untreated, leaving many feeling stuck. This narrative needs to change. We deserve the space to grieve, heal, and navigate the complex emotions of survivorship—without the constant pressure to be endlessly grateful.

How We Can Change the Narrative

To create real change, we must move beyond toxic positivity and equip survivors with the resources and support they need to navigate survivorship head-on and emerge stronger.

Recognizing the Complexities of Survivorship Trauma

Talking about survivorship can feel like walking a tightrope, as if acknowledging its depth diminishes other traumas like abuse or loss. But cancer is its own category of trauma—one the mental health community is largely unprepared to address. Survivorship is a relentless cycle of physical, emotional, financial, and existential upheaval, compounded by the ever-present fear that it could all happen again. The body remembers, the mind replays—all while the outside world celebrates your survival.

Survivorship care can’t stop at grief support—it has to help survivors navigate what remains. The goal isn’t just survival but Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG)—rebuilding a life that acknowledges both the losses and the strength gained. Until survivorship trauma is fully recognized, survivors will continue to feel unseen and unsupported in the aftermath.

Educate and Empower Young Cancer Survivors

We need to rethink how we view cancer’s lasting impact—remission is not the finish line. Survivors deserve to seek help without shame, knowing their struggles are real and they are not alone. Yet, one of the biggest gaps in cancer care is what comes after treatment, especially for young survivors. They are often left to navigate stalled careers, fertility challenges, financial instability, and lingering health issues without a clear roadmap, creating an overwhelming cycle that keeps them stuck in trauma.

Survivorship care must evolve to offer specialized support—mental and medical health resources, career and financial guidance, and fertility preservation. Because survival isn’t just about staying alive; it’s about having the tools to truly move forward.

And if it were up to me, I’d remove every last hospital bell. It reinforces the false idea that cancer is “over” once treatment ends, ignoring the lifelong reality of survivorship. Instead of marking an ending, we need to create a culture that acknowledges the journey ahead and provides survivors with the support they deserve.

Creating a Culture That Honors Survivorship

The biggest change we can make is giving survivors the space to be honest—without shame or guilt. Talking about the hard parts of survivorship shouldn’t feel like a taboo.

Survivors shouldn’t have to sugarcoat their reality or worry about being seen as negative. Real resilience isn’t about pretending everything is fine—it’s about feeling safe enough to share both the gratitude and the grief that come with survivorship.

When we embrace the full experience—the highs and lows, the strength and the struggles—we create a culture that actually supports healing. As Marianne Williamson writes in Tears to Triumph, real transformation happens when we face pain with honesty and use it as a stepping stone for growth. Survivorship isn’t just about making it through—it’s about rebuilding a life that truly aligns with who we are and what we value.