Rachael's Recovery Journey

“Where to start? My whole life has been dominated by back pain, almost from as early as I can remember. My first memory of having ‘a bad back’ was about aged 9, handing a note from my Mum to the PE teacher, who looked at it and snorted with derision and gave me a look which suggested I was making it all up. Nine-year-old children didn’t get back pain. My next memory was going for X-rays and physio when I was around 13 years old. No-one could tell me what was wrong – ‘growing pains’ were suggested but nothing ever really showed up. It wasn’t debilitating pain – just a constant awareness, like it was never going away.

My early years had been dominated by one thing after another: severe eczema, chronic bouts of tonsillitis, strange vomiting episodes. I was described as a sickly child and missed lots of school and important life events.

My parents divorced when I was 5 years old. I was collected from school one day and taken to a new house where I was told we would be living now. Hard to believe when I recollect it as an adult. My father saw me regularly with his new wife but there was no affection. My mum was bereft and emotional. My older teenage sisters just carried on with life being teenagers. No-one ever asked me how I felt or told me what was happening.

I became very clingy, creeping into my mother’s bed night after night. She was a lovely mum and did her best, but was stressed with a full-time teaching job, lonely, and emotionally guarded, as well as being a highly anxious parent. I played in my bedroom a lot, alone, trying to create a secure environment. I became highly sensitive to everyone around me (still am), a people-pleaser, adapting to the environments I found myself in, in order to try and fit in and make everyone like me.

Fast forward through teenage years, and in young adulthood my back would regularly ‘give way’ and leave me prone for a few days. By now I was accepting of the pain though. This is how it was. It was part of me. I believed I was broken.

There were times when it wasn’t there (I think?) and times when it left me totally in pieces and unable to do anything. My second pregnancy was difficult with my back in total lockdown and Mum had to cancel a holiday to care for me because my husband was working away. Sometimes I couldn’t even pick my little boy up. It affected everyone, not just me.

I started yoga and it helped. I did my yoga teacher training and in turn helped other people in pain. That became my speciality. Meanwhile, I was still broken and often taught my classes in pain. Inside I felt like a fraud.

Fast forward again, into middle age. I remember one day my teenage son jokingly giving me a gentle push and me, alarmed saying “watch my back!”. His response…. “Mum, you’re so fragile”. This was a moment I won’t ever forget.

My mum passed away in 2015. It was sad and stressful, and our family became estranged from one of my older sisters. My back was worse than ever. Then I developed hip pain which I’d never had before. By now I was seeing physiotherapists, osteopaths, acupuncturists, and I almost joined a cult (long funny story!) who said they could cure me through ancestral healing. I had special knee pillows for bed, I bought foam rollers, a machine to hang upside down. All of it worked – until it didn’t. One day I said to my osteopath, “Do you think my mother’s death has made my pain worse?”. “Maybe?” his reply. Deep down I knew it played a part. By now I was desperate. I envisaged a life of disability and I was losing hope, sick of being fragile.

An MRI scan showed normal degeneration in my hip and lower back. Just carry on as normal suggested the consultant. Great, I thought. No major stuff going on so why am I still in so much pain? Then October 2018 I signed up for a workshop. I didn’t know anything about it other than it was for chronic pain sufferers. That was definitely me. I had low expectations but decided to give it a go because there was nothing to lose.

And so much to gain. The workshop was led by a SIRPA trained practitioner. It lasted 3 hours. I got in my car afterwards and cried for 20 minutes. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted. This was the explanation I had been waiting for. TMS. Mindbody. Dr John Sarno. Georgie Oldfield! It all made sense.

Like a good ‘TMS-er’ I went home and read every book, devoured all the websites, listened to the podcasts, downloaded the app. I was going to be the quickest ever recovery story. A medical miracle. But my back pain got worse. It spread to my shoulder, my other shoulder, my neck, my knees.

I doubted the process and believed it 100%, all at the same time.

The SIRPA practitioner had space to see me in her schedule. We worked together and I relaxed into the process. I talked to my brain (I named it Brian– my internal health & safety officer). I re-learned new neural pathways. I went back to the gym. I wrote in my journal, so voraciously that I couldn’t read it back even if I’d tried – the handwriting was impossible! I practised meditation. I started having fun!

I don’t remember a single day when I woke up and the pain was gone. It was much more gradual. Maybe I didn’t go into spasm after a 30-minute car journey. Or maybe I didn’t collapse unloading the dishwasher. Or sitting in that particular chair suddenly wasn’t a problem. I don’t remember. But it was gone most of the time, and the times it came back were fewer and I relaxed about them when they did. I knew it was all part of the process.

Sometimes my pain comes back. I still get those panicky moments thinking I’ve failed. Or it’s an injury I can’t heal. But then the journal comes out and I realise I’ve been carrying something heavy (emotionally rather than literally!) and I let it go. I know the pain is a message and I welcome it as an opportunity to turn inwards and reconnect with my emotional state. I laugh at the pain and welcome it in.

I won’t name my SIRPA angel, but she quite literally saved me. I know I did the work and I had belief, but without her I’m not sure where I would be. My advice to anyone on their own healing journey is to trust the process. You will learn so much about yourself along the way. Don’t rush it. Go at your own pace. Relax. A pain free life is possible.”

Join people who have found relief through the SIRPA approach to chronic pain.