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Major upheavals in life can fundamentally change one’s perspective on everyday routines. That is what happened to Maria after her cancer diagnosis. Our specialist, Dr. Stefan Woinoff, provides context to her story.
My name is Maria, I am 58 years old—and I can honestly say: I live more consciously, freely, and independently than ever before. Three years ago, I would not have thought this possible. At that time, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It felt as if the ground disappeared beneath me, and suddenly nothing was self-evident anymore: not my body, not my future, not even getting up in the morning. Looking back, however, this illness—paradoxical as it may sound—became the turning point of my life.
During the treatment, in those long weeks between surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, I was forced to pause. I could no longer function as before, had to hand things over, let go of control. At first, that was horrible—I was always the one who had everything under control: the household, the job, the family, old friends. Suddenly there was silence. And in that silence, something new began.
I started to ask myself what still had a place in my life—and what did not. Many things I had once considered important suddenly felt empty: career ambition, perfectionism, the fear of what others thought of me. I realized I had spent years bending myself to fulfill expectations that weren’t even my own.
After treatment, there was a time when I almost felt like a stranger in my own life. But that was precisely the opportunity—I got to start over. I told myself: If I survived this, then I want to really live.
I began to appreciate the small things again. Having a coffee on the balcony in the morning sun. An aimless walk through the park. Conversations that were genuine, not superficial. I met people I never would have met before—in a support group, in yoga, later in a painting course. These new friendships are different: more honest, deeper, less about playing roles. We talk about fears, about wishes, about what really moves us.
At the same time, I said goodbye to old friendships. Some people could not handle my illness or my transformation. They wanted the “old Maria” back—the one who always laughed, organized everything, never showed weakness. But she no longer exists. And that is a good thing.
Today I only work half days; I have cut back to have more time for myself. I volunteer at a counseling center for women with breast cancer. When I can encourage others there, I feel a sense of purpose. I often see the same fear in their eyes that I once had—and I know I can offer something that can’t be found in books: lived experience.
Of course, not every day is easy. I have scars—visible and invisible. Sometimes the fear of relapse gets to me, sometimes my body aches, sometimes it’s all just too much. But I can cope. I accept it without getting lost in it. I have learned that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.
Today I know what is good for me: time in nature, honest conversations, movement, silence. I allow myself to say no. I take breaks without feeling guilty. I dare to voice my wishes—and sometimes simply allow myself not to do anything.
Looking back, I don’t just see the illness—I see a woman who has rediscovered herself. I am grateful that I now have a clearer vision of what really matters in life: health, love, friendship, freedom. And the courage to stay true to myself.
I live now. Not later, not someday. Now.
Permanently traumatized or empowered for a better life?
Major upheavals in life can fundamentally alter our perception of everyday life. Whether lasting limitations or a certain gain in wisdom result, depends greatly on one's personal resilience. The ideal outcome is to return to one’s original stability after a temporary shock, while gaining a valuable insight: life is finite, but of incomparable value.
Profound understanding arises especially when your own existence or that of a loved one is endangered—or when a loss has already occurred. Even if many people forget this message as everyday life goes on, advancing age often leads to a similar confrontation with mortality.
Living with consciousness of mortality
Being aware that every hour is a gift makes many aspects of daily life easier. Quarrels and annoyances lose their importance. Nevertheless, the constant awareness of one’s own mortality weighs heavily. That is why it is a typical human coping mechanism to suppress the issue. In this way, the unconscious prevents fears around death from taking over daily life. Religiosity and philosophical contemplations address this exact point: they aim to answer questions about meaning and mortality.
Death remains incomprehensible for many, and those who confront it too intensely require tremendous mental strength. I even believe that certain mental disorders can arise when this suppression mechanism no longer functions, and thus everyday coping is completely overwhelmed.
Seeking—and forgetting—insight
No one can maintain a constant feeling of finitude. But the realization of how valuable every moment is can last a lifetime. The shocking experience of fate can intensify this awareness and lead to deep gratitude. Often, humility and awe toward the wonder of existence are added: feeling one's own insignificance rather than an overpowering sense of confronting death head-on.
Since the human brain is focused on daily life, a kind of protective mode soon takes over again. The big questions are mostly outsourced to priests, philosophers, or other thinkers, because constant awareness of finitude would be an enormous burden—and we function better in the small details of everyday life.
Dodging death and living in the present
The ability to enjoy moments intensely often stems from the awareness that every day is unique. However, humans are not designed to constantly ponder their end. Those who do risk overloading themselves. In many cases, it is therefore a gift that everyday life catches up with us again, because that protects us from persistent fear of death. Focusing on what is essential makes sense, but a permanent feeling of finitude would likely block the normal flow of life.
"Wish I had your problems"
Examples from traffic often show how easily people get caught up in trivialities. Complaining about supposedly unfit drivers allows people to vent subconscious anger on others. This is not a privilege, but rather a childish shifting of their own frustration over jobs, relationships, or neighbors.
In such moments, valuable lifetime is lost, because instead of calm and joy, only annoyance remains. Those who feel how precious every moment is, let go of pent-up anger and use that energy for a more content outlook on daily life.
Our author: Dr. med. Stefan Woinoff is a specialist in psychosomatic medicine and psychotherapy in Munich. As a psychodrama therapist, author, and relationship expert at 50plus-Club, he supports people in individual, couples, and group therapy sessions. He is part of the German Focus.de Experts Circle.
Photo: © Keddy / stock.adobe.com
Editor, 13.11.2025
