14/08/2026
Preparing for the tears as I begin to write this at 5.32am. Not the post I want to write. I have actually no idea what's about to come out, but I'm leaning into that, remembering that vulnerablity is a super power and trusting that once again, this wee space that's been mostly created with tears and laughter, will once again hold me. My posts always finish on a hopeful note, I'm proud to describe myself as an eternal optimist, maybe this is the time that will prove me wrong. I never plan my writing here, this time I can't promise that. So, be warned. I just need to get this out, because the cocktail of fury and devastation is sitting in my chest right now and I refuse to let it make itself at home. Writing is my letting go. Here we go.
Despite the abundance of love, support, manifestation, virtual hugs and again, all the fu***ng love I got yesterday, unfortunately my hospital appointment was another s**tshow. It's hard to describe all this in a way that's short enough to hold either of our interest, that's being truthful. It is a fu***ng saga. Right now, it feels like a saga that is ruining my life. As I typed that I need to be honest, every whisper in my body is saying delete those words. Get a fu***ng grip and stop being dramatic Lauz. Especially as as we speak, 3 of the most incredible women you could ever meet, that I'm lucky enough to call friends are all being blasted with chemo and literally fighting for their lives. I am in no way comparing my feelings to anyone going through worse, please know that. But, as I tell my clients every single session, you are allowed to feel how you feel.
I am allowed to feel how I feel.
August 2023, I almost died, 3mm from death
The veil between here and there was paper thin. I could literally feel it. By some absolute miracle, not only did I survive falling off the ground (ok with the help of a 42kg dog), but I also managed to not be paralysed. I can still walk, p*e, stand for a bit, I can still get around in the way I used to. For that, I am grateful in a way that language will never convey. Being alive, as I lay there, pretty certain I wouldn't make it through the next 3 seconds, was all I wanted. To live. I'm living, and that is glorious.
Don't think I've forgotten that. I have not.
Here's the part I need to express to keep it real and maybe fully explain what I've really struggled to accept. I still can't bend, crouch, twist, lift (even a pot), all too often keep myself stable, dance like I used to, drive, sometimes walk without holding John. There are days like 3 days ago and Erin wanted to hold my hand and I literally couldn't let her touch the skin on my hand because of nerve pain. My immunity is in the bin, happens apparently after a spinal injury. My face is often glowing red, apparently because my nervous system is still in shock. My periods have become indescribable, again another perk. The worst thing right now for me is that more and more often my body refuses to hold my head up. I'd never known how heavy my head was until about 8 months ago when suddenly my back and neck fell out with my head. It's fu***ng heavy, let me tell you. So heavy that even lying down doesn't remove the weight. A neck support, side lying, nothing. Usually all that softens it is time and in between that time a lot of tears, because it's excruciating. It feels like I'm being crushed by an artic. I'm not telling you all this for sympathy, I am absolutely not having a 5.32am pity party. I am saying this "out loud" for me. I always write for me. I need to get this out. I've always viewed my life for these last 1091 days as me living with an injury. I think that's wrong. My body became disabled all those days ago. I have no shame attached to that, anyone who knows me, who understands why this page exists knows that. It's just something I've never really realised. Daft eh. I've been trying to find the route back to my old physicality and the truth is it no longer exists. I need to create a new one. That, I know I can do. I can be well again. Strong again. I have no doubt of that. Where my doubt exists right now, the doubt that's showing up as fury and devastation in my chest is the when and the how. I'm a fixer, it makes no sense to me.
Why can't I fix this, I'm asking you Universe why? I'm all fu***ng ears.
A huge part of the issue, the main interruption in my recovery from a broken back, now filled with titanium and screws is this fu***ng ankle. It's just an ankle, but it's ruining everything. And I don't know what to do. I'm rarely lost but with this I am lost. Right now there are ten, yes 10 different problems within my ankle. The main one being the bone was damaged, they failed to see that, so now the cartilage has begin to detach from the bone and in the space between that there are cysts. Mental right? Agony? Utter. Add to that a tear in my ligament, a bone spur in my achillies, and so on, and so on. Btw, see if it was just my ankle, I don't think I'd be as furious and I definitely wouldn't be as devastated. The main reason I am is because of my back. Remember, these injuries are 3 years old now. I'm done hurting. And I don't know what to do.
What started this post is my appointment yesterday with the surgeon. The 4th that I've expected to "fix" my ankle. That 4th that didn't know what was wrong, didn't have any reports, or images, or to be honest any fu***ng understanding. Not one ounce. Not a moment for compassion, empathy, nada. I was just a c***k in her surgical chain. There's no point telling you the full conversation, but a couple of key snippets are... "ah ignore your MRI they're usually not useful anyway, and the report tells us things that aren't there". Well lady, the state of my ankle might suggest otherwise. (She'd examined it and attempted to twist it in every direction before even looking at my 2 detailed MRIs ordered in May that she wouldn't even have had if I hadn't saved them in my phone, eyeroll) Of course, then she changed her mind, the images and report that I'd so fu***ng kindly provided confirmed everything. Yup, surgery is needed, oh and some of this will be permanent. Will I drive again? Yes. Walk long distance? Most likely.. The pain though, the likelihood is I get to keep a lot of that. Through lack of care and the s**tshow that is this hospital. Make no mistake, Portugal isn't the problem. This hospital is. My care for my spine and a different hospital 30 mins away has been exceptional. When I insisted, and then demanded that surgery happens asap given my 3 year wait and severe impact on my back recovery, she literally said "ah, it's already been 3 years, what's another 6 months to a year". That's why I'm furious. Furious and forgotten.
It's not the first time I've really really wanted to punch a member of the medical staff from this hospital right in their little fu***ng face.
Ah, here come the tears. Good. I'm processing. Fury is linked so closely to sadness for me it's insane, usually it's only tears that seperate them. Gut wrenching sadness. A human being whose life doesn't matter. Who's risk of permanent nerve damage can wait another year, in her mind.
Not in mine. I can't do this anymore. And here we are beautiful people, the main reason I am lost, and that I feel done.
What do I fu***ng do? For anyone in doubt, that question is rhetorical and at the exact same time I am totally open to suggestions.
I'm a fixer. Why can't I fix this. I just want my life back. I want to remember what a day workout pain feels like. Not pain from grafting on the farm, or pain from dancing non stop for 4 days. This pain is different from those pains. I want the good pain back. The pain from living is worth having, all this pain does is remind me of how much life I currently struggle to live. "Their" answer is prescription meds, opiates mostly. Imagine that's what I'd done for 3 years, just imagine what my mind and body would be doing. Infact, I don't even want to imagine. Not for me. Cold water, breathing, believing. Those are my medicine.
I need to fix this.
Here come more good tears, just breathe.
I almost apologised for how long this is. That definitely was a whisper of an old version of me, I thanked her and said geez peace. I deserve every one of these words, I do. I am allowed them. There's probably almost noone who got this far, and that's ok. This was for me, I needed it. It's helping me make sense, accept and slowly a plan is forming, I think. A glimmer of hope is all I need, the tiniest shimmer that something, somewhere, might be possible. I can feel that glimmer reflecting off my tears. I don't need all the answers, as an eternal optimist I just need a tiny bit of light and the hint of a reflection. Hope exists.
Maybe it always will.
I'm going to finish here, because I think it's important. If you've watched me at Moving Mountains, or any Mind Yersel' space, maybe even kicking about the farm, walking up Wishy, it doesn't matter, and you've thought wow, Lauren's doing great, she's walking fine, or mostly ok. She's having a wee dance, she's well, healthy, mostly healed, please remember this post. It's some of the time, but not all of the time. I think people have misunderstood my abilities right now, and I think that's my fault. One thing I know is that if I'm going to get well, the "I'm fine" mask has to come off. It's not been deliberate, I just unconsciously thought it was helping. It's not. I need to accept my reality, and maybe, just maybe that's the first step in fixing this s**t show.
A note to all, remember invisible disability exists. Just because YOU can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Minds are always invisible, we can always be kinder to others, but especially to ourselves.
I plan to start there, and I will fu***ng fix this.
6.32, wow. A whole therapy session. Go me.
Thank you for allowing me this space, I needed that. If this page, project, movement is to keep existing we need shares, whether I like it or not. You know what to do.
Have a gentle day, I need one.
Mind Yersel' 💜
*A photo of me at Bute, hair flicked to the "wrong" side and smiling into the sun, because in the sun there's always a glimmer.
