Pain is a Thief

Pain is a Thief

Chronic Pain won yet another battle. It’s stolen more from me than I care to think about. Backed me into another corner that I have too little energy to fight my way out of. Pain is a thief, it steals your life, your very being. Chronic pain eats away at who I am. My only weapon is the love I have for my family.

2016 ended with empty cupboards. Having to make decisions between putting on the heating in my freezing flat and eating. Scraping together that last bits of change, paired with a coupon to buy baby powder. It was miserable, I was miserable. Emotionally I was done, I couldn’t handle the weight of my feelings anymore so I blocked them out completely. Unable to even cry over how much I hated the citation we’d been left in. Unable to shed a tear as I said goodbye to my family and moved halfway across the country to the refuge of my partners family. Repeatedly reminding ourselves that THIS IS TEMPORARY, our new mantra that will one day take us back to the home we’d made for ourselves.


A tiny Logan with a bottle wrapped in my cardigan


Fast forward a few months to Logan sleeping soundly next to me to as I stared in awe out of the floor length windows at the bulky metal structures sat proudly above. The bold white frame hung over little apartments doors and busy shops below full of people looking for the next January sales bargain. The view was a stark contrast to the smooth, blended colours of the seaside I’d come to call home. I could almost smell the seas salt air over the strong scent of coffee granules that filled the bustling Costa I’d found myself in. A longing for the life I’d had only a few months ago filled in the pit of my stomach, I missed those stupid seagulls and the way the cold wind brushing off the sea. I missed my family and friends more than words could describe but this…sitting in Costa pondering over the last of my Christmas special hot chocolate, peaking over at Logan in anticipation of him waking with that heart-melting smile he always wears, was my life now. I didn’t love it, but I’d become capable of finding the silver linings.



We welcomed 2017 as our little family of 4 (including our fur-baby) snuggled in bed and protected by our love for each other. Things will get better. Even on my worst days, the lowest of days I know I am lucky to be surrounded by love. Pain won this battle but it hasn’t won the war! I haven’t given up, I’m just recharging and then I’ll get back to kicking ass. My first step meant starting fresh. Mrs. Jeeby’s Survival Kit had been my success, but now I looked back it, it felt more like my demise. A reminder of how hard this battle had to be fought. I needed a new outlook, a fresh sheet. So I re-branded and re-launched Mrs. Jeeby’s Survival Kit as My Survival Collective, a new home for my thoughts and feelings. My hopes and dreams and everything in between. A place I could share the good bad and ugly without restricting myself to a life that my chronic health has forced upon on me.

My new mummy status and home have given me a new hope for a better life. Please join me as I fight to get my life back and become my very best self.


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