There Is Hope at the End of the Road
For most of my life, I have been someone who has always been on a constant treadmill. I have always been busy, getting things done, juggling lots of plates and somehow managing to keep them all in the air. I was running a successful business, running two or three times a week, keeping active in lots of different ways, working, being a mum to two children and generally juggling all the ups and downs that life throws at you. I was always doing something, and if I wasn’t doing something, I was probably thinking about the ten other things I should be doing!
Then, about three and a half years ago, everything changed.
I suddenly found myself struggling to even get out of bed. My body felt heavy and weighted down with pain, while my mind seemed unable to clear itself from the dark brain fog that had completely overwhelmed me. The simplest of tasks could suddenly feel enormous. I couldn’t think clearly, I couldn’t function as I had always done and I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.
That was me.
It has taken me nearly three years to finally write this and expose a side of myself that I have never really allowed people to see. In fact, even writing those words now feels incredibly uncomfortable. Why? Because I was frightened of what people might think.
I was scared of being seen as a failure. I was scared of being seen as a mum who couldn’t cope. I worried about what other people would think of me and whether people would judge me. I even worried that, because of my work, people might think I was no longer capable and simply stop using me.
There were so many thoughts running around in my head that my mind became another foggy world of its own. Some people might read that and think, “Gosh, that’s ridiculous,” but that is genuinely how I felt.
I have always been a strong woman and a fighter. I am usually the person who just gets on with things, picks myself up and carries on. But this time I had no choice. My body said no, and eventually my brain said no too. It was almost as though my entire computer had crashed and nobody could find the reset button!
Learning to Live Differently
Nearly four years on, I am in a much better place with managing my condition, although I still have many flare-ups and it remains completely out of my control how I am going to feel when I wake up each morning.
That is probably one of the hardest things about living with fibromyalgia: the uncertainty.
You never quite know how you are going to feel from one day to the next. One day I might be able to get through quite a lot, while the next I can wake up feeling as though my body has completely pulled the plug. It is like living in a strange sort of limbo land, where you make plans but also know that your body might have other ideas.
I have had to learn to live differently. I have had to find routines and things that help me manage each day, plan my life differently and accept that I cannot always do things in the way I used to.
I am incredibly grateful that my children are now teenagers because they have helped me more than they probably realise. I am so grateful for them and for the support they have given me, particularly since becoming a single mum.
That was one of the hardest parts of the last few years.
When my husband moved abroad to Dubai for work, I was left to carry on with myself and our two children and simply do the best I could. What initially appeared to be a job move to Dubai eventually became a separation and is now divorce.
I already knew that I didn’t have my husband’s support long before he left, so in some ways I had already learned to manage without it. I simply had to put my head down, keep going and get through everything as best I could.
Thankfully, with the support of my family and friends, I discovered that I could do it.
It hasn’t always been easy and it certainly hasn’t always been pretty, but I have managed to keep going.
A Little Yoga, A Big Achievement
Then recently, something happened that might sound very small to some people.
After two and a half years of not being able to do many of the things I used to do with ease, I managed to complete a full yoga session.
For some people, completing a yoga class might not sound like a huge achievement. For me, it was enormous.
As we settled down for the final few minutes of the class, I was suddenly overwhelmed by this huge feeling of happiness and achievement. I could feel a little trickle of a tear roll down my face because I realised that I had actually done it.
I had completed the class.
I hadn’t been able to do every movement perfectly. There were certain things I had to modify because of pain and discomfort, but I stayed, I kept going and I finished.
I was proud of myself.
It was a strange feeling because I realised just how much confidence I had lost over the previous few years. Completing that yoga session gave me a tiny piece of it back.
My wonderful yoga teacher at the time, Katie, was incredibly reassuring throughout the class, and then she said something that really stayed with me:
“Your body. Your practice.”
Those four words meant so much to me.
There was no comparison. No expectation that I should be able to do what someone else could do. No judgement about what I couldn’t manage.
Just acceptance of where my body was that day.
Thank you, Katie.
The Part People Don’t Always See
One of the hardest parts of this whole experience has been that not everyone has understood it, including some people who are close to me.
That has been incredibly sad and frustrating.
Eventually, I became reluctant to talk about it because I didn’t want to keep sounding like a miserable person or make people feel that I was constantly complaining. I didn’t want to become a burden, so I started masking the pain and the lack of energy. I would simply say I was fine, even when I wasn’t.
But hiding something doesn’t make it disappear.
Fibromyalgia is becoming increasingly understood in today’s world, as are chronic fatigue and burnout. We are learning much more about the impact that prolonged stress, trauma, anxiety and illness can have on the body.
In my case, I believe things started to change for me around 2020/21, but by August or September 2022, it really hit me hard. I reached a point where there was simply nothing left in me.
I couldn’t get out of bed.
I couldn’t function properly.
And I couldn’t understand how someone who had always been so active and independent could suddenly feel so completely incapable of doing the things that had once been so normal. For goodness sake, I have had Type 1 diabetes since I was 11 years old, so by that point I had already spent 31 years dealing with a condition that had the potential to rule my life. But I never let it control me. I always tried to hide it from people as much as I could because I wanted to be treated like a normal person. I made diabetes fit around me as much as I could, rather than allowing it to dictate my life. I had learned how to manage it and get on with things without letting it define who I was. But when fibromyalgia came along, it was a completely different story. The combination of the two took everything to a whole new level, and for the first time, even I couldn’t manage it. I felt defeated by my own body.
Fibromyalgia has brought with it a whole range of symptoms that can change from day to day. The widespread pain, extreme fatigue, brain fog, muscle aches and stiffness can make even ordinary everyday tasks feel like a huge effort. During a flare-up, the pain can become much more intense and I can feel completely drained of energy. At times I can become breathless very easily, feel dizzy or faint, nauseous and unsteady on my feet, which can make getting around incredibly difficult. There are days when the combination of the pain, exhaustion and other symptoms can be so debilitating that I can struggle simply to walk from one room to the next. It is not just feeling a little tired or having a few aches and pains; sometimes it feels as though my entire body has simply decided it has had enough and shut down for the day.
And, as if fibromyalgia wasn’t enough to contend with, in 2023 I lost my balance during a flare-up and fell down just two steps, breaking my foot in three places. Something as simple as losing my footing had a huge and lasting impact. Unfortunately, my foot has never fully recovered, and I have continued to live with pain and problems with it ever since. Having Type 1 diabetes also means that healing can take longer, which has added another complication to an already difficult situation. The combination of fibromyalgia, my ongoing foot problems and diabetes can be debilitating at times, and there are days when I can struggle just to walk from one room to the next. I am still waiting for surgery in the hope that they can finally repair the damage and improve the problems I continue to have with my foot. Having an already painful and unpredictable condition and then adding a significant foot injury on top of it has made mobility and exercise even more challenging. It has been a long and frustrating road, particularly when I remember being able to run two or three times a week without ever having to think about every step I took.
This was the point where I had to accept that I couldn’t simply carry on as I always had. My body was forcing me to stop, slow down and completely rethink how I lived my life.
Looking at Life Through Different Spectacles
One huge positive that has come from all of this is that it forced me to look at my life through completely different spectacles.
I realised that some things had to change.
So they did.
I have learned to appreciate the little things in life and to stop putting so much pressure on myself. I have always been my own worst critic and a complete perfectionist. I worry about what other people think of me, I question myself constantly and I have spent far too much of my life giving myself a hard time when I haven’t achieved what I thought I should.
But when you find yourself lying in bed, unable to move because your body has simply said no, you start to realise that perhaps your worth isn’t actually measured by how much you get done.
Some days, getting outside and being surrounded by nature is enough.
Some days, spending time with people I love is enough.
Some days, simply being present and enjoying whatever is happening in that moment is enough.
And if the only thing I manage to do that day is empty the dishwasher, then that is okay too.
Although, let’s be honest, who actually likes emptying the dishwasher anyway?
I certainly don’t! 😂
I am learning to take each day as it comes and, most importantly, to be kinder to myself.
Finding My Voice Again
There is one thing, though, that I have always found strength in, and that is using my voice.
Getting into my studio and working still gives me such a happy feeling. I genuinely love what I do, and I am incredibly grateful for every piece of work that comes my way.
There is something very special about stepping into my studio, putting on the headphones, reading those words and suddenly feeling like myself again.
My work has always been a huge part of who I am.
The voiceover world is changing, of course, and AI has already had a huge impact on voiceovers and voice actors. There is no denying that the industry is in a very different place now.
But I still firmly believe there is something incredibly special about the human voice.
Every voice is unique. Every person brings their own experiences, emotions and personality to the words they speak. The tone, the intonation, the breath, the imperfections and the story behind that particular voice all become part of the performance.
And everything that has happened to me is now part of the voice you hear.
Even this journey with fibromyalgia.
It has changed me. It has challenged me. It has made me look at life differently and, ultimately, it has made me stronger in ways I never expected.
Fibro may have taken away some of the things I used to be able to do with ease, but it will never take my voice.
It will never take my passion for what I do.
And it certainly hasn’t taken my stubbornness!
So I am still here.
Still working when I can. Still doing what I love. Still laughing. Still learning. Still finding my way.
And still very much Posy’s voice.
So, Where Am I Now?
So where am I now?
Well, a lot has happened over the last few years. I have been struggling through a divorce which still isn’t over, navigated becoming a single mum, tried to be there every day for my children through their teenage years, working where I can and, somewhere amongst all of that, tried to find my own life again.
But this time, I want it to be different.
I don’t want to go back to the person who was constantly running on that treadmill, desperately trying to keep every plate spinning and feeling guilty whenever one of them dropped.
I want my life back, but I want it back in a calmer, more controlled and simpler way.
One of the biggest things I have learned through all of this is just how precious life is.
Each day really is a new day.
Material things suddenly don’t seem nearly as important as they once did. It is the experiences that matter. The people we spend time with. The memories we create. The laughter. The conversations. The moments we actually remember because we were present enough to experience them.
We are constantly changing. We are constantly creating and breaking cycles, learning, growing and becoming different versions of ourselves. Every morning when the sun rises, we have another opportunity to start again.
And I am learning to accept where I am rather than constantly wishing I was somewhere else.
I can still achieve good things.
They might just look different now.
There is a little saying from Winnie the Pooh that sits on my desk, and I look at it often:
“Even the longest storms end. Your sunshine is waiting, just hold on a little longer.”
I love that.
Because there is always an end to today, but there is always a new beginning tomorrow.
I am learning to take control of the things I can control and, when it comes to the things I can’t control, I am learning to let go and let the universe do its thing.
And perhaps that is one of the hardest lessons of all.
We spend so much of our lives trying to control everything. We worry about what might happen, what other people think, what we should have done differently and what the future might look like.
But sometimes you just have to let go.
Trust.
Breathe.
And see what happens.
I don’t believe the universe will ever let you down, even when you are standing in the darkest part of the storm.
Sometimes you just have to hold on a little longer.
Little Steps
This yoga class might seem like a very small achievement to some people, but it meant the absolute world to me.
For two and a half years, I haven’t been able to do many of the things I used to do with ease. Completing that class reminded me that progress doesn’t have to be enormous to be meaningful.
Sometimes progress is getting out of bed.
Sometimes it is getting outside.
Sometimes it is making a cup of tea.
Sometimes it is emptying the dishwasher.
And sometimes it is completing a yoga class and finding yourself crying happy tears at the end because you are so incredibly proud that you managed it.
I don’t know exactly what the future holds, and I know there will still be good days and difficult days. But I do know that I am learning how to manage this condition, learning to listen to my body and learning to be kinder to myself along the way.
For someone who spent most of her life running on a treadmill, perhaps learning to slow down was the lesson I needed most.
I am still taking those little steps.
Sometimes they are tiny.
Sometimes they are backwards.
Sometimes they are unexpectedly enormous.
But they are still steps forward.
And perhaps that is the biggest thing I have learned through all of this.
You don’t have to be who you were before.
You don’t have to achieve everything.
You don’t have to prove yourself to everyone.
You just have to keep moving forward in whatever way your body allows you to.
Little steps can become one giant leap, and sometimes that leap is also a giant leap of faith.
Because there is one thing I know now more than ever:
There is HOPE at the end of the road.
If you are living with a chronic fatigue condition such as Fibromyalgia, ME, Long Covid or CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), or you know someone who is, please share this story.
The more we talk openly about these conditions, the more we can help one another and, hopefully, help people understand what it is really like to live with something that can be so debilitating and, at times, completely invisible to those around you.
Friends, family and partners need to understand what life can actually be like when someone is living with chronic pain, exhaustion, brain fog and symptoms that can change from one day to the next. It isn’t always easy to explain, particularly when you might look perfectly fine on the outside while feeling completely broken on the inside.
Sometimes, simply understanding what someone is going through can make all the difference.
It can change the way we communicate, the way we support each other and the way we respond when someone says, “I can’t today.”
And perhaps, in some cases, that understanding might even save a relationship.
So please share this story. Start a conversation. Ask questions. Listen.
Because you never really know what someone else is quietly carrying.
And if sharing my story helps even one person feel less alone, more understood or simply able to say, “Yes… that’s exactly how I feel,” then writing this has been worth every uncomfortable moment.
Posy x