Stories Along the Way

Originally written January 2026

Last week, I walked out of my doctor’s office feeling incredibly low.

The results of my latest ultrasound showed that my uterine fibroids had grown again.

Those who know me well know that I’ve lived with chronic pain since adolescence, largely because of endometriosis.

It wasn’t life-threatening, but at times it was debilitating — especially around my period.

Throughout my teenage years and even into early adulthood, I was often labelled lazy because there were days when I simply couldn’t function through the pain.

I was called weak because, when the pain became unbearable, I sometimes passed out.

The hardest part?

I believed them.

I beat myself up for being lazy and weak until, eventually, I made a resolution:

Ignore the pain.

Numb it.

Tell myself it was all in my head and that I simply needed to get up and function.

It wasn’t until my late thirties that I was finally diagnosed with endometriosis.

Around the same time, we also discovered uterine fibroids.

At last, there was an explanation for so much of what I had experienced.

Modern medicine stepped in, treatment followed, and for a while I thought perhaps that chapter was finally behind me.

But although the pain became much more manageable, it never completely disappeared.

Thankfully, I had a thorough doctor who kept investigating.

And voilà…

another explanation arrived.

Multiple diverticula in my bowel.

Nine little pockets, to be exact.

Because apparently my body doesn’t believe in doing anything by halves. 

I learned to live around that too.

Then, during my most recent hospital admission, pelvic imaging revealed something else.

The fibroids were back.

Suddenly, the pelvic pressure I’d been feeling while running made more sense.

Last week’s ultrasound confirmed it: not just one fibroid, but several.

Because why have one when you can have plenty?

I never realised I was so greedy. 

And that changes things again.

It means another conversation with my doctors about treatment and how best to manage the symptoms that come with menopause as well.

That part frustrated me enormously.

I walked out of the appointment feeling defeated.

But after a lot of reflection — and some rather intense conversations with myself — I realised something.

I’ve been here before.

I’ve lived through years when pain dictated what I could do.

I’ve been told I was weak.

I’ve believed it.

And then, eventually, I learned otherwise.

I didn’t just survive those years.

I built a life around them.

So bring it on, 2026.

There may be days when chronic pain or menopausal symptoms bring me to my knees.

There may be tears.

There will undoubtedly be frustration.

But I also know myself much better now than the girl who once thought she simply wasn’t tough enough.

I know pain can change the plan without defining the whole journey.

And I know I’ll keep navigating whatever comes next with resilience, strength…

and a whole lot of gusto.

The photos are from our hike to the bottom of Barron Falls.

Looking at them now, they seem like a fitting picture of how I want to navigate this year:

respect the force in front of me, find a way through, and keep moving.