Your messages…

Thank you so much for all your comments, reads, shares, emails and messages. I am so overwhelmed by the outpouring and humbled and honoured to read your stories.

I am getting thousands of emails and comments. Some are deeply personal stories and are heart breaking.

I am trying my best to reply to as many as possible, please bear with me, if your issue is important and requires a reply and I haven’t come back to you in a week then please try again.

But please know that I am reading every one.

To be given the opportunity to have a glimpse into your lives and those of your loved ones is amazing.

Thank you so much. Please know that it means a LOT! I don’t take this responsibility lightly and I am very proud to be trusted with your words.

I’m learning a lot too, I thought I was well informed but your stories are teaching me so much and I’m sharing this knowledge with the world.

Every one of you is awesome.

You lot are so bad ass…

✌️& ❤️

Sam x

Bbc breakfast

I will be on the couch with BBC breakfast today at 7.40am!

I’ll be talking Ibd and *that* letter!

*Update*

You can see my interview here…

http://m.bbc.co.uk/news/health-31636415

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Well that escalated quickly…

So the past few days have gone WILD! My post about using disabled/accessible toilets when you have a hidden disability went viral and I can’t believe it, but So Bad Ass has had over 1.3 million views!!!

On Tuesday evening, I wrote the post, an open letter to people who judge others using public loos. It was about human courtesy, kindness and not judging a book by it’s cover. By the time I went to bed, it had a couple thousand views and I was over the moon! When I woke in the morning, the post was at 20,000+ and I was gob smacked.

By the end of the day, it was 100,000, and the next two days were hundreds of thousands each!!!

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Today my little website has hit well over a million hits.

1,000,000 +

WTAF?! I feel like I’m dreaming!! I have had thousands of messages, emails and comments. An unending stream of tweets and Facebook shares and media attention from newspapers and websites around the world!

I write this blog for one reason. To make a difference to the lives of others and so to know I am reaching a huge worldwide audience is just heart thuddingly wonderful. I am so humbled to be able to helping so many people. I’m excited and over the bloody moon that this is happening!

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This website is my baby. 18 months ago I started writing to document my journey with IBD but it quickly became more than that. It became a way to let others know they weren’t alone, to inspire and support people with ulcerative colitis, Crohns, people with Ostomies and Jpouches.

As I wrote more about self esteem, body image and confidence as well as parenting, my audience grew to people without IBD and I realised I had an opportunity to share an ethos of being So Bad Ass.

I LOVE my blog, it means everything to me. Knowing that I make a difference and help people gives me purpose, drive and a deep happiness.

To see my baby blossoming into something that is being seen by millions is scary, overwhelming but makes me so proud.

The past 18 months have been the toughest of my whole life. But to know that something good has come of this means everything.

Thank you all

Be kind yo…

✌️& ❤️

Sam x

Talking ostomies and self esteem – Pelican Healthcare

I was invited to the Pelican Healthcare Life Your Life roadshow in Cardiff to talk about living with an ileostomy and self esteem.  It was a great day, there was a ton of information stalls and products as well as dietary advice, a reflexologist, the Get Your Belly Out team and lots more.  The super friendly team at Pelican Healthcare were on site to welcome the ostomates, family and friends and to chat and guide them through the day.

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My talk was filmed and you can take a look here… Enjoy!

 

If you want me to talk at your event, then get in touch!

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Pelican Healthcare provide ostomy products to people all over the UK, as well as giving advice, support and developing a community for people with ostomies. You can like them on Facebook and follow them on twitter.

Sam x

My beautiful scars

I have a lot of scars, and with another surgery planned in the next few weeks, I will have a few more too…  I am not ashamed of them, they are the signs of my IBD journey, the battle scars of my fight of the last ten years.

My family is half Indian, and so unfortunately I have some issues with keloid scarring.  When you have damage to the skin, in healing itself the body produces more of a protein called collagen.  Collagen gathers around the damage and builds up to help the wound seal over in a scar.

However, some scars don’t stop growing. They “invade” the surrounding healthy skin and become bigger than the original wound. These are known as keloid scars. Keloids affect around 10-15% of all wounds and is more common in people with darker skin particularly African, African Caribbean and Indian people.  (This information comes from the NHS website, take a look for more info and if you are concerned, then go see your GP)

For some people, scars can be associated with poor self esteem and negative body image.  They can be an external sign of their internal struggles and people may feel embarrassed or ashamed of them.  I get this, occasionally I feel self conscious if I see people staring at my scars, this only happens at the swimming pool or beach as I am well past wearing crop tops!

But I have always found scars quite appealing, they suggest a story, something interesting that happened to that person.  My husband is covered in scars from years of skateboarding and snowboarding and we always say that chicks dig scars… Turns out dudes dig scars too!

I have done a few photo shoots before to show my stoma and ileostomy bag before, and so I thought I would have a few of my post j pouch body.

I have been through a lot in the past couple of years, a lot of difficult times, embarrassing and upsetting events, yet I am pleased to say that through it all, my scars are one thing that I haven’t struggled with.  I know they are large, and some would say unsightly, I know they are really visible and somewhat shocking.  But I had three kids before these surgeries and so I already had a lot of stretch marks and a caesarian scar.  Perhaps having these before made the transition to more noticeable scars easier for me to deal with?

After my first son, I went from a size 6 to a size 16… I gained a lot of weight and was COVERED in stretch marks.  I was embarrassed and upset by them, when a family friend told me that I should rejoice in those marks.  They were my tiger stripes, my war wounds, the sign that my body had created another human being!!! Those marks, she told me, were beautiful and something to be proud of.

These scars are a similar thing, they are the marks that show the struggle I have been through.  They remind me of my bravery, my fight, my winning.  They tell a story and they make me smile.

My scars are beautiful.

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All photographs are by Timm Cleasby from the Picture Foundry and cannot be used without permission.  Take a look at The Picture Foundry website, it is the photography company I run with my husband.

 

Sam xx

Dating older men – The Kylie/Tyga furore

I don’t watch The Kardashians, I am not a fan of Tyga, (I’ll be honest, I had no idea who either Kylie or Tyga were before yesterday) yet I found myself googling them after my twitter feed became filled with a slut shaming, paedophile questioning bitchfest.

So, incase you too are in blissful ignorance of this story, Kylie Jenner is the 17 year old sister of Kim Kardashian and has begun dating a rapper named Tyga who is 25.  They have been publicly mocked and there have been many comments discussing whether this man is a predatory sex offender for dating a girl 8 years his junior, whilst other “celebrities” have waded in calling each other sluts and hoes… Classy right?!

So why do I care?

Well, at 17 I met my husband, who was 26.  It raised a few eyebrows, but we shrugged and got on with getting to know each other.   Sixteen years and three children later, we are still together, very happy and the nine year age gap is unnoticeable.

I genuinely don’t care about these so called celebrities, I have no interest in reading about their sex tapes, clothes lines or celeb drama.  But I do find it interesting that people on social media have shown such outrage at the age gap.  That Kylie has been called a slut and a slag, she has been picked apart and mocked. Tyga has been called a paedophile! He has been ridiculed and there are many suggesting he groomed a child.

Whilst dating a man 8 years older than you isn’t the norm for all 17 year olds, you can hardly call the life of a Kardashian normal, here is a girl who has grown up on TV, she lives a celebrity lifestyle with all the riches and benefits of having a lot of money.  Her relationships will be shaped and moulded by her experiences, the average 17 year old doesn’t get offered clothes lines with TopShop do they? So it is hardly surprising that her choice in partners doesn’t fit with the average mould.

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My life was far from Keeping up with the Kardashians, I lived in and out of my family home from the age of 14/15.  With my sisters, aunties, friends and in a terrifying flat in Sheffield where I left after having all sorts shoved through my letter box and being afraid to leave the house.  I had an absent father and a step father who wasn’t my biggest fan.  I wonder if there is a reason why I have always dated older men? At 16 I dated a man in his 30s…  I sometimes joke that I have father figure issues!

The reality is that I met and fell in love with a man.  We grew together, learnt together and joined as one and made a family.  He was nine years older than me and I was 17.  But that age gap is not what our relationship has ever been about, we have so much in common, we are different in many ways, but that just compliments each other.  We just fell in love.

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I am not an advocate of age gap relationships, I am an advocate of being open to who you fall in love with.  And as long as relationships are filled with love, trust, respect and care, then whatever the age difference we should be accepting of how other people want to live their lives.

 

Sam x

To the woman who tutted at me using the disabled toilets…

Dear lady who loudly tutted at me using the disabled loos,

I know you saw me running in, with my able bodied legs and all. You saw me opening the door with my two working arms. You saw me without a wheelchair. Without any visible sign of disability.

You tutted loudly as I rattled the handle with my hands that work perfectly and my able voice call to my kids that I’d be out in just a minute.

My lack of wheelchair may have suggested to you that I was some lazy cow who didn’t care. Some inconsiderate bitch who was using something I wasn’t entitled too. (I actually carry a card to explain that I’m entitled to and have a disability key if you’d have cared to ask). You may have seen my face blushing as I caught your eye and assumed I was showing guilt at blagging the disabled loos.

The fact is that I have no bowel. I have a pouch formed from my small intestine which can’t handle volume and so I have to go to the toilet and poo several times a day. My lack of large intestine means that my stool is totally liquid as I have no means of absorbing the fluids in food and so its really hard to hold it when I need to go.

I sometimes have accidents which means a large toilet that has a sink right by me means I can clean myself up when things go awry.

I hate having to use the disabled loos as I have to deal with people like you staring, nudging, tutting. And whenever I can, I use the ladies toilets. Just so you know, disabled loos usually smell bad and don’t seem to be cleaned as often or as well as the ladies and so I wouldn’t choose this option unless totally necessary.

Whilst I’m at it, I’d like to address the cleaner in the supermarket ladies toilets I used this week. As I ran in, knees together, bursting through the door and running to the cubicle, I’m sorry that the noise of my (lack of) bowels made you burst out laughing.

I can actually take the sniggering as since I had a pouch made from my small intestine because my disease ridden colon was removed during surgery, the noise I make when I defecate is hilariously loud. Seriously, I get it. It’s comedic in it’s volume.

But before you ran outside the loos and called to your friend “OH MY GOD! You should hear the noise in there!!! I wouldn’t go in if I was you!!!!” Perhaps you could have noted my daughter who was waiting outside with our trolley because her mum had had to leave her stranded to run to the toilet. Perhaps you could have stopped and heard me sobbing with pain because the acid in my stools has no way to be neutralised because I don’t have a large intestine and so opening my bowels actually burns my skin.

Perhaps you both could have shown a little empathy, a little compassion, a little understanding.

Poo is funny. Disability is confusing.

I get that.

But humanity and care for fellow human beings is a choice.

To everyone else reading this, the next time you see someone who doesn’t “look disabled” using a toilet.

Or someone bursting through and crashing into the toilets noisily.

Take a moment. Remember that not all people who have the right to use disabled toilets are in a wheelchair. Some of us have a jpouch, a lot of us have an Ostomy bag that needs emptying and changing with the use of space, a sink and a bin. And even more of us just don’t want to shit our pants in public.

Think about the nearly 300,000 people in this country who have inflammatory bowel disease (not to mention the huge number of people with IBS!!!) who need to use the toilet urgently, noisily, smellily…

It’s an embarrassing enough thing to deal with before having to see disapproving looks or hear your laughs and jeering remarks.

Be kind yo…

Peace out

Sam xxxxx

Hernia surgery update

I have been awaiting a date for hernia surgery, I am hoping this op is going to set me back on a healing path. My hernia isn’t large but it’s uncomfortable every day and is stopping me doing the things I want to do.

Anyway I heard from my consultants secretary this week. Mr Brown was unhappy with the time I’ve been waiting and has asked for me to be booked in to the private hospital in town rather than the usual one.

It’s a bit of a shock but for once, a nice one! Surgery should be within the next few weeks and will be with Mr Brown rather than just on the general list as was planned before. This has calmed some of my anxiety over this operation.

I was adamant that 2015 was going to have two things NOT happen for me. No house moving and no surgeries!!! After two huge ops in 2013 and 2014, I was really hoping for no cutting open of Sam!! Unfortunately that’s not to be, and I have been feeling really upset, angry and anxious. So the knowledge that I will be under Mr Brown’s care has really lifted my spirits and calmed some of my nerves.

Mentally I am struggling at the minute. I have just so much jumbling through my mind right now. Illness, jpouch, hernia, accidents plus my cut hand that’s still strapped up along with parenting and personal issues are making me feel fucking crazy. I am filled with self doubt, anxiety and sadness.

I’m carrying on regardless. Trying not to piss off everyone around me and just keep going. My head is swimming but I’m trying hard to work through my anxieties and sleep issues. I’ve downloaded a meditation app that I’m using at night to help me relax and sleep.

We are off to Filey for a few days next week and though we still have to work, it will be really nice to get some sea air, get out walking and have a change of scenery.

I’ll be photographing and instagraming my break next week so if you don’t already, head over and follow me over there (samcleasby)

Sam xx

Chronic Illness and Parenting – am I a shit mum because of my shit disease?

I’ve been thinking a lot about how my illness has affected my children and the relationship between us. I have three kids and every day they amaze me with their intelligence, kindness, character and awesomeness.

Till 2010 my husband’s job took him away from home for up to nine months of the year. So my kids (born 2000, 2003 and 2005) and I were this super close gang. The four of us were together all the time and though, of course Timm was a huge part of all our lives, it often felt like I was a single parent.

Even when my Ulcerative Colitis was bad, we would still be this team as we had no other choice! We had help from my mum, sister and friends but we got through it together. The kids didn’t really understand, which I’m glad of. They just knew that sometimes I was poorly and we would have film nights where we all slept in one bed and hung out. It meant I could rest and know they were are safe with me.

Timm stopped working away in 2010 and it changed our family massively and for the better. The kids loved him being at home and we started our photography business together. It made all our lives better.

When I was at my sickest in August 2013, I thanked my lucky stars that his job meant he was home to care for the children and give them the support they needed. I had a few weeks in hospital and then came home without a colon but with an added ileostomy bag. They had been so worried whilst I was in hospital and their concerns upset me. I hated that my illness was making them so sad.

Then when I got home, my bag and scars, the staples holding my body together, my tiredness and weakness scared them. They became afraid to hug me. Fearful they would hurt me. And to this day, though totally understandable, it is the toughest thing I’ve gone through. My babies being too afraid to hug me.

Fastforward eighteen months and they’ve learnt so much. My second surgery took away my bag and replaced it with my Jpouch. Though they knew more, and were less freaked out this time, they suddenly had to learn to live with a mum, who once again would run out of the room to dash to the toilet. Who couldn’t eat certain foods, who takes medication that cause drowsiness.

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This journey I have been on has been tough on me, but my kids have been through it too. They’ve had to see their mum disappear onto hospital wards for weeks at a time. They all freak out when I have even a scheduled clinic visit now, terrified I won’t come home for weeks. They have had to learn so much and I truly believe that though it’s tough, and I wish they didn’t have to go through it, that they’ve come away as more empathetic, kinder, more open humans.

The problem with chronic illness is that it isn’t about a few weeks and then life going back to ‘normal’, the illness IS life and it’s learning to reassess how you live this odd life that you never planned for.

Currently I have awful fatigue, sleep problems, anxiety, pain, toilet and diet issues. I take high dose codiene every day that make me drowsy. I struggle to wake before 9am. I know I am tetchy, self absorbed, distant and sometimes just absent.

The kids have had to lean on Timm both emotionally and physically. This isn’t a bad thing, he’s their dad!! But for me, it’s a struggle to see him take over all my roles. This is such a selfish thing to say. The kids are fine and so is Timm, so much so that I occasionally doubt whether I’m necessary at all!!

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This is selfish and all a bit me, me, me, but I’m just going to blurt it out anyway…

It hurts that they go to their dad instead of me. It hurts that they want him to do bedtimes, it hurts to know they ask him for advice instead of me. It hurts to feel left out. It hurts to feel my illness is a barrier between us.

I’m scared they’ll think I don’t care. I’m scared they think I’m lazy. I’m scared that when my head is so full of my own pain, anxiety and distress that they will think I wouldn’t drop it all in a second for their needs. I’m scared they won’t need me anymore.

See, told you it was selfish!!!

Because when I put my brain into gear and tell my heart to shut up, I am so proud of my family! I’m so happy to see Timm having this amazing bond with the kids that he missed out on when they were small. I’m proud to see them growing into confident, self assured, wonderful young people.

When I see that Timm has learnt to plait hair because I can’t function in the mornings and Ellie needs help, my heart swells. When Thom tells his teacher that it’s daddy who helps him with all his homework, I thank the day he stopped touring. When Charlie has an awe inspiring role model of a dad in his life, I am thankful and blessed.

Don’t get me wrong, they aren’t angels, and my illness makes me blame myself whenever one of them does something wrong. I can’t help but think that if only I was more present and full in their lives at the moment, that they wouldn’t have made that mistake.

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When I tell them off and perhaps shout a little louder than necessary because I’m in pain. Or I’m too short with them because I’m desperate to go to the loo. Or when I’m distant and perhaps seem cold because I haven’t slept a full night for two years and I’m so exhausted I could drop. All those things swirl through my head for days, just worrying me that their childhoods are being scarred by my illness.

I just hope that they understand that my illness has played a big part of all our lives, but that I have always loved them, that they are always the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing before I sleep, that they are the best things I ever did and always will be.

I hope one day I can explain to them that I wish it could be different, that being ill is tough but feeling like I fail them is tougher.  I hope they will know how much they mean to me.

And that I’m sorry that there were times that my illness may have hidden these truths from them.

Sam xx

 

 

 

Debbie Downer

Things aren’t brilliant at the minute.  I’m still really struggling with fatigue, I am so exhausted all the time, and this brings my mood crashing down, I feel sad, guilty and useless.  I am still waiting for a date for my hernia operation, the hernia isn’t too big but it aches constantly and I have to wear a big support belt to hold it in if I exert myself.  My anxiety levels are sky high when I think about going under the knife yet again.  We are dealing with some really stressful parenting problems that are filling my head with stress and making me feel quite isolated.

And then two days ago, whilst washing the pots, I cut the back of my hand on a glass quite badly.  After a four hour wait in A&E with the skin flapping off my hand, doctors glued it up and strapped up my hand.  They said I was very lucky and only just missed the tendons, as they lifted the flap of skin, you could see all the tendons and muscle moving and the bone of my knuckle!

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It’s all strapped up now, but is very, very painful, my hand is swollen and I can’t move the first finger at all meaning I am pretty one handed at the minute.  I can’t believe how difficult life is with one hand!

And this may sound pathetic, but it has been the straw that broke the camels back.  I am done in.  I felt useless enough with the hernia and fatigue, I am doubting myself as a good parent and life is kind of crap,  but now not being able to use my right hand has floored me.  I know it will heal quickly and within a week or so I am sure I will be fine, but I am gutted how little I can do for myself.

Even typing this is a nightmare, I am one fingered left hand typing and so I will keep the post brief as it is taking so long.

I’m afraid I have little to be positive about today.  Life is pretty sucky and though Im sure there is a silver lining somewhere, I can’t find it right now.

The only positive is that I deal with everything with the awesome and unfaltering support of my husband, and though things aren’t great, at least we are together.

I will try and be back soon with a more shiny, happy outlook!

Sam x