The Surgery I Didn’t Expect 💛

For three days I was suffering with pain in my stomach. I tried to sleep through it, ignore it. I thought I was over reacting. I assumed it was trapped wind or a little stomach bug. Surely it couldn’t be anything more. I’d had brain surgery just a few weeks before, and I knew my body was under a lot of stress. It wouldn’t put me through any more surely?

I’ve always been strong. The one who keeps going. The one who pushes through. The one who figures things out, no matter what. The one who never cries and says to everyone asking ‘I’m fine’.

Even when life felt heavy, I’d carry it. Quietly.

Keep moving. Keep building. Keep showing up.

But this time, my body didn’t give me a choice.

It stopped me. I had appendicitis. I was rushed to a&e at 7pm and had surgery the next day. 

That’s two different surgeries in the space of a few weeks.

 

This pain took over my whole body. The kind where even sitting up feels impossible. The kind where you realise… you’re not in control.

And yesterday, something shifted.

I cried.

Not once. Twice.

And I don’t cry.

It wasn’t just the pain. It was the vulnerability.

The helplessness.

The exhaustion of trying to be “strong” when I simply didn’t have it in me.

For a moment, everything I usually rely on… disappeared.

And all that was left was me.

Raw. Open. Human.

We talk a lot about strength.

But we don’t talk enough about what happens when strength isn’t available to you.

When your body says no.

When your mind is tired.

When you can’t just push through and carry on like you always do.

That’s a different kind of moment.

One that most of us avoid.

But here’s what I’m starting to understand…

That moment wasn’t me breaking.

It was something being released.

I’ve been holding a lot.

Health struggles.

Running a business.

Being there for everyone else.

Trying to keep everything together, all the time.

And maybe, without even realising it, I stopped letting myself feel any of it.

Until my body forced me to.

And this is where gratitude comes in.

Not the fake kind.

Not the “everything happens for a reason” kind.

But the honest, grounded kind.

I’m not grateful for the pain.

But I am grateful for what it showed me.

That I can’t ignore my body anymore.

That I’m allowed to slow down.

That I don’t have to be strong every second of every day.

That there are parts of me that need care too… not just everyone else.

Because the truth is…

If we only ever allow ourselves to be strong,

we never actually allow ourselves to heal.

These surgeries didn’t just affect my body.

They opened something deeper.

A pause I didn’t choose.

A vulnerability I couldn’t avoid.

A version of myself I don’t usually sit with.

And maybe that’s the part I can be grateful for.

That I’m starting to see myself more clearly.

Not just as someone who keeps going…

but as someone who also needs to stop.

To feel.

To rest.

To be supported.

I don’t think gratitude is about loving the hard moments.

I think it’s about being willing to see what they’re trying to show you.

Even when it’s uncomfortable.

Even when you’d rather not look.

Right now, I’m still in it.

Still healing.

Still tired.

Still figuring things out.

But I can feel something shifting.

A softer version of strength.

One that doesn’t come from pushing through…

But from allowing myself to be human too.

And maybe that’s the real healing.

Not just the body recovering.

But learning that you don’t have to carry everything alone.

If you’re going through something hard right now…

You don’t have to pretend it’s okay.

But maybe, just maybe…

There’s something in it that’s trying to bring you back to yourself.

And that’s something worth holding on to.