First, you must love thyself and the rest will follow

We know that we must love our neighbour, but how many know that in order to effectively do so, we must completely love, forgive and accept ourselves?

Rachel Wambui speaks to two women who have changed the lives of others by learning the gentle art of self-acceptance, forgiveness and self-love.

Katheke Mbithi

She is a well-known face in the cancer prevention, treatment and support circles. Coming to terms with a breast cancer diagnosis and a radical mastectomy necessitated going back to the self, accepting herself and letting go of other people’s opinions.

In 2005, when she first presented with breast cancer, Katheke also happened to be five months pregnant with her second child. She decided to hold off on cancer treatment until she delivered but by delivery time, the disease had progressed to stage 2. As a result, two weeks after delivery, she underwent a radical mastectomy – a full removal of the breast. She also begun chemotherapy sessions shortly after the wounds from the Caesarean and mastectomy had healed enough.

CONSIDERABLY HEALTHY LIFESTYLE

“I had led a considerably healthy lifestyle, (so) my first reaction to the diagnosis was that of shock and disbelief,” she says. “How was I going to break the news to my family? I worried more about how other people were going to take it.”

Acceptance came gradually. “When you can’t change a fact, the only option is to accept it,” Katheke says. “It hit me that this was real three weeks later, then about three months after, it occurred to me that I wanted to beat cancer.”  After some soul-searching, meditation, reading many personal stories about cancer-survivors and joining support groups, Katheke reckoned the first thing she had to do was to adapt to who she had become.

“Could I look in the mirror and accept that I didn’t have a breast, that I was losing my hair? I couldn’t even wear a wig because my scalp was sensitive or the wig or headscarf wouldn’t hold. One day I thought: what am I hiding?! And so I didn’t wear scarves or wigs until a small afro grew back after the chemo. I accepted that I would change (physically) – but the essence of who I am would remain. I realised that I wasn’t less of a woman, and my husband didn’t love me any less.”

It was important to Katheke that she not be treated like a victim. “As soon as I started feeling physically stronger, I got on my feet and took responsibility for my wellbeing; I had two young children to take care of.”  However, Katheke does admit that being surrounded by a lot of love and support from her family and friends motivated her to take care of herself.

LETTING GO OF WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT

Letting go of what other people thought was a huge triumph. “Some people will always have something negative to say. For example, when I was pregnant, some said ignorant things like I would pass on the cancer to the baby.” Other than not taking on other people’s fears, she also had to watch out for her own fears, “Yes the cancer progressed and I worried that I might not make it, but at that time, delivering a healthy baby was more important to me, regardless of what others thought.”

Today, when she is called upon for speaking engagements, they tell her it’s because ‘we want someone who is very positive’. “I cannot give away something that I don’t have. To be impactful, I have to be authentic. If I encourage people and then come back home and cry, it’s me who is hurting. To be fully present for this work and for my husband and children, I do a lot of self-care. Stress can flare up cancer so I listen to my body, do only what I am able to do and rest when I need to. I take quiet times alone and reflect. I consciously make an effort to look and feel good. Everything comes back to me.”

While she admits that everyone goes through their wellness journey at their own pace, she adds; “Wherever you are, no matter what your story is, even the slightest act of self-love, like simply getting out of the house to go to a support meeting will make all the difference.”

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Wanjiru Kihusa

Wanjiru is the founder of Still-A-Mum, a foundation that supports families dealing with miscarriages, stillbirths and child loss. Two miscarriages and a diagnosis of inoperable blocked tubes left her questioning her womanhood. An act of surrender and service brought her to a higher purpose.

By the time she was 25, Wanjiru was confident she had lived up to what society expected of her; she had a degree, a job in IT, had gotten married and she was pregnant. But in 2013, at 20 weeks of pregnancy, she was admitted to hospital with a serious bout of pain. She didn’t know it then, but she was in labour. “Trying to stop the labour didn’t work,” she says, “Eventually the water broke and I had to deliver. Unfortunately, the baby had passed on.”

Diagnostics and post-mortem results determined that she had a bacterial infection called listeria, one of the few that can breach the placental barrier. In March 2014, she got pregnant again. “But then at six weeks, I started spotting and when I went to hospital, they determined that the pregnancy was not viable.” She and her husband went through 2015 trying to get pregnant. But they couldn’t. “When we went to see a specialist, they said that my tubes were inoperably blocked, that our only option was IVF.”

While the first loss was devastating, the second felt like a punch to the stomach. “The first time, at least we still hoped that we could try again. But the second time, our chances became very uncertain. You lose two children and suddenly you are desperate to feel pregnant. It feels as if you can’t do something that other women seem to do with ease. It puts your womanhood into question… and then they tell me that my tubes are blocked. I can’t catch a break.”

Wanjiru took a break from work and spent her time researching and blogging on maternal health. It is from this that Still-A-Mum was founded. The support group was about a month old when she found out that IVF was her only option. “Women were writing to me about their experiences, I was meeting them, some on the brink of committing suicide, for coffee dates, referring them to counselors... and then I would go home and be very frustrated. I fell into a depression.”

She decided to go for a therapy session which helped offload her overwhelmed emotions, but she says that what really got her out of the depression was keeping busy. “The idea was to stop myself from fixating on this thing, to send my energy somewhere else.” So she continued expanding Still-A-Mum’s impact.

In 2016 she had a shift of perception. “I realised I have been standing in a room where someone had locked the door and I had been banging at this door that couldn’t open. So I turned away from the door and for the first time, looked around the room I was in. I realised that I can make peace that for now I am here. It was okay if I didn’t have children.”

She didn’t like the sad person she had become. “Self-love has to be extremely deliberate,” she says. “You have to want to feel better. Self-pity is actually quite selfish. So I asked God to help me to genuinely enjoy other people’s successes in pregnancy and childbirth. For example, now I go for baby showers and I celebrate with the mother. But if I feel I don’t have the emotional strength, I sit it out. I take care of myself. My genuine friends will understand that choice.”

She is currently excited about the rise of rainbow babies and mums (pregnancies and births after a miscarriage, stillbirth or death) in her support group, “They give me such a sense of hope. I think I was busy fixing other people’s lives – learning to hug them even when I was hurting – and in the process, God fixed me. On average I am well. I like who I have become. I appreciate my husband and my in-laws; I have met so many women who were rejected because they couldn’t have children.”

Part of acceptance also means acknowledging the bad days, realising that grief is not chronological and not neat. “The body might heal, but it takes the heart and mind a while to catch up. I cut myself some slack.” Most importantly, she no longer questions whether she is enough as a woman, “My husband is also man enough and we – he and I – are a complete family unit.”

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6 tenets of self-love

1. Self-awareness: Being mindful of who you are and what you need, and acting on that knowledge rather than what others say you are or ought to be/have/do.

2. Self-care: Taking responsibility for and doing things that contribute to your overall wellbeing.

3. Self-forgiveness: Accepting that you are not perfect. Not punishing yourself for (past) mistakes. Not feeling the need to ‘pay’ for them forever.

4. Self-acceptance: Coming to terms with the things you cannot change (such as a terminal diagnosis, skin colour etc), cultivating the willingness to change what you can (such as attitude, lifestyle etc) and letting go of trying to improve or change anybody (except yourself). 

5. Self-esteem: Doing things that cultivate self-worth. Acknowledging and celebrating your character assets (not fixating on your character defects).

6. Setting boundaries: Knowing your limits and cultivating the courage to honour those limits. Letting go of the need to please people to the detriment of your well-being. Learning to say ‘no’ when need be.