The Big Scary Life Thing

Hello again! It’s been a while. I have avoided this blog for a few reasons, but before I get into the Big Scary Life Thing, a little introduction, or reintroduction to me. My name is Sam, I live with an ileostomy, chronic pain and chronic illness, I started this blog in 2012 to share my journey through hospital visits and surgeries, to have a way to update my big sister who lives in Australia and as a cathartic way to let it all out. I started the blog not really believing anyone other than my sister and maybe a friend or two would read it and that suited me just fine, I have always loved to write, it is definitely therapy for me and so it was a huge shock when at first hundreds of people began to read, then thousands, then millions…

I realised that through sharing my story, I had the ability to help other people, whether they were living with similar issues to me, or whether they just connected on some other level and it felt good. But I always kept to my guns of writing about what felt right, of writing for myself first and to do it for the reasons that I began. Soon, I began to be nominated for and win awards, to get other opportunities such as writing for the Metro, Psychologies Magazine and Red Magazine. I was invited to do talks all over the UK and Europe and a career as a disability activist was born. But as times moved on and social media grew, as my illness and body became more complex, as my mental health struggled to cope with all that I was dealing with, with each more complex and life threatening surgery, I leant away from writing. It felt too much, too scary. I had negative comments from family members unhappy with what I chose to write about or using my blog as a way to target me. I had the daily trolling comments from men telling me I was too. Too fat, too ugly, too old, too stupid. And it all got a bit much.

I turned more toward social media, to instagram and Facebook and that felt a little safer, more cocooned, I wasn’t feeling the imposter syndrome if I only shared stuff in the way that everyone else does. Also the world was telling me that no one has the patience, time or willingness to read long form blogs any more. It was all about the videos and images, the snappy info pics that are consumed in seconds. No one wants to read a long blog written by a no-one.

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This summer, my life changed drastically and forever. The Big Scary Life Thing happened and I withdrew further, from friends, from family, from the internet. I made the decision to go to Australia for three months, to visit my sister and give myself some time to heal, to think, to have therapy. To get away from The Big Scary Life thing and to free myself from all the restraints that were tying me up in knots. I have been here for a month now, and for the first time in ages, I had the urge to write. At first the insecurities came flooding back, who would want to read this? Is it self important of me to put my words into the internet ether? Does anyone care? And then I remembered why I started this blog in the first place. I didn’t write my words just for others, I wrote for myself. I wrote to heal, to process, to love myself. And so today is the day where I throw all these ‘rules’ in the bin. The reality is that I don’t want to be an ‘influencer’. I don’t care about how many views or likes I get. I don’t care if AI is taking over and telling the world that you have something to say over 10 seconds to hold peoples attention. I don’t want a pre-created schedule given to me in how to make the most compelling content. I just want to write.

The other reason I have trepidation in my words about The Big Scary Life Thing is the concern of the impact on what and how I share my life, this isn’t just affecting me, it affects my three children and so there are things that I won’t share, that are private and for my family to deal with. But let’s get it out there (if you haven’t already watched my video on social media). My husband and I are separated.

That’s such a small sentence but it punches me in the gut every time I read or say it. If you have followed my blog for a long time, you will know that I talk about Timm a lot, we met when I was just 17 and we have been together for 27 years, he is my only love, he has been a huge part of my health journey, he has been my carer, he has been through every surgery and treatment right by my side and it has all affected him almost as much as it has affected me. I have talked about him and our relationship so much that it would be odd if I just moved on and didn’t talk about the fact that we aren’t together any more.

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I have been with Timm since I was 17, my whole adult life has been with him. My illness and surgeries had brought us together in ways I didn’t know possible, the fear and loss that can often cause divide for many pushed us closer. In his wedding vows, Timm told me “Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.” For the first half of our relationship, he worked away from home, touring with bands and working on music events, the absence he mentions referred to the physical distance between us, but I think it also works as a good metaphor for dealing with chronic illness. And it truly did stoke our bonfire. We were in love.

In November 2024, we made a move that had been in planning for over 12 years, we left our home town of Sheffield and moved to a beautiful cottage in the countryside by the coast. It had been our dream for years, that when our children all grew up and left home, that we would focus on ourselves and make a life that would bring us joy. We have an acre of land, chickens, ducks, dogs and a cat. We planted our garden and fruit trees that we dreamt we would sit under for the rest of our lives. We jumped into village life and the dream actually came true. My health started to improve as I had finally found medication that eased my pain and life was good. We were happy.

And then it wasn’t. The Big Scary Life Thing happened. We split up.

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The shock was like an explosion, a huge catastrophic messy bang followed by a silent numbness, like the world’s volume got muted and I was left shell shocked, my ears ringing with 27 years of memories. I never knew the physical pain of emotional hurt till that moment, I got an emotional flu, my arms and legs heavy, an exhaustion took over my brain, my head ached with confusion and hurt whilst my heart felt bruised and battered, like it had taken the full hit of a bus crashing through my chest. Though I had spent half our relationship physically alone as he toured the world, I never felt so alone or lonely as I do now.

What happened is a private story that the world doesn’t need to hear the details of. Things came out that broke my heart, I still wanted to try, to go to couple’s therapy, to not throw away 27 years. But it wasn’t to be. I was left in a place I never ever thought I would be, alone.

There is a lot of advice out there about separation and divorce, about heartbreak and hurt. But it all still feels like I am the only person in the world feeling how I do right now. I started therapy and that has been a lifesaver, a safe space to be able to talk about anything and everything. I spoke to friends and borrowed their strength when I had none of my own. I tried to use logic and debate to figure out what the f*** had gone wrong, I wished I had a pill that would blank my mind out so we could just go back to how things were, I smoked way too many cigarettes and drank too much wine and gin in my bed. I felt hopeless. I couldn’t see the light, the light was gone. I forgot how to shower, how to care for myself, I cried myself dry and then found another hidden well of tears and cried those out too. I felt self loathing and pity, I questioned everything about myself. Am I not enough? Am I too. Too fat, too ugly, too old, too stupid? Is my illness and disability simply too much of a burden?

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I spoke to my sister most days, and she kept suggesting I came out to Australia to take a break. The idea seemed preposterous. I am Sam, I put everyone else before me, I don’t take solo holidays, I don’t spend money on myself, I am not frivolous. The doubt hit me hard, I am not able to do this, I need Timm to help me and support me to be able to travel. I can’t do this. I can’t. But a little voice in my head was saying, but what if? What if you can do this? What if you are stronger than your believe and more worthy than you have ever thought? And just like that, I did it. I booked the flights. And not only did I book the flights, I booked BUSINESS CLASS flights! The shimmer of excitement mixed with the sludginess of grief and terror. I had no idea if this was the right thing to do, but I knew I couldn’t carry on as we were. Living in the same house, in separate rooms but sharing a space that no longer felt safe and happy and warm. The rows and the hurt made the air heavy and black, the desire of habit to just slip back into each others arms, to ignore it all and make things ok whilst not actually dealing with any of the problems, the want to sweep it all under the carpet or squeeze it in the bottom drawer was huge. But I knew it wasn’t right.

And so here I am. I have been in Australia four weeks today. And a lot has happened. I have cried, laughed, cried some more, felt lonely, scared, confused. I have forced myself to do solo trips and to try new things to attempt to heal myself. I have continued with my therapy. I have spent joyous time with my sister, brother in law, niece and my wonderful daughter who is also living out here. I still feel confusion, loss, grief. I have no idea what the right thing to do in moving forward is, but I am becoming more accepting of the fact that this confusion is OK, I don’t need to have it all figured out, I can sit in this space without knowing what my future looks like. I have acknowledged that I have spent my entire adult life with one man and so it’s ok to feel broken when your life has tumbled down around you.

I don’t know what happens next. But I do know that writing this has felt good. It feels like it did back in 2012 when I started. It feels cathartic and freeing to be able to spill my words across the page and let it out. And it feels freeing to not care if anyone reads this ever!

I am writing this for me. And if you have discovered my little corner of the internet and my words have helped you at all then that makes me incredibly happy too. I truly believe that everything always better when you hear someone else say ‘me too’. And so I will continue to write, to share, to process and to be present in my life as it looks right now.

I will be back.

Peace and love

Sam xx