It was coming up to midnight when the men woke us up and asked us, two solo ladies in their early-thirties, what we were doing camping near the Iranian border in Azerbaijan. Umm, trying to sleep?

And so begins the story of how I was once questioned by the ex-KGB military police whilst wearing my pyjamas. You couldn’t make it up. Working on international oil projects and based in Azerbaijan for 5 years in the early noughties, going exploring and camping at the weekend was a perfectly normal thing to do. I worked very hard and I travelled constantly. My life was busy and exciting and full of adventure.

Roll forward a few years and life was very different. At this time, I was experiencing severe frozen shoulder pain that was beyond excruciating. Together with tennis elbow, underlying chronic Repetitive Strain Injury (RSI) pain (which by then I’d had for several years), and burning neuropathic pain, my right hand and arm were basically non-functional. Just getting dressed was a challenge; I had given up on wearing a bra. Driving was a distant memory. Cooking for me was a microwave meal that I could eat with only a fork.

This went on for two years.

Two long, hard years of living alone, effectively disabled but without a disability, and in constant pain.
Constant, never-ending burning pain. I would think about the carefree fun I used to have and be amazed how that used to be me. What happened to that adventurous girl whose life force couldn’t be contained?

I was crushed.

I had private healthcare, but even with that, it took two years of the doctors failing to resolve the shoulder problem before they finally gave in to my begging and did elbow surgery.

Instant relief. How many people can come around from an anaesthetic and be immediately in less pain
than they’d been in for two years?

Hallelujah!

I could move my shoulder and begin rehabilitation. I was taking significantly less painkillers, I got my lovely dog and met my lovely boyfriend. I still had massive limitations and ongoing problems with chronic pain, but it was all going so well and I was slowly recovering.

And then I got chronic fatigue.

I couldn’t believe it. After a year of relative respite, I was back to rock bottom. I still couldn’t drive, but now I couldn’t walk anywhere either.

It was s**t. Utterly, utterly s**t. I felt 90. Not in so much pain as before, but tired, oh so tired. And utterly miserable. Was this it? Was this going to be the rest of my life?

Chronic pain, chronic fatigue, depression. This was not how I thought my forties were going to play out. This was not part of my plan. This was not ’me’, but it was my life.

Winston Churchill once said “If you’re going through hell, keep going”. That really resonates for me.

When I was at my absolute lowest, a relatively new acquaintance said “Have you heard of The Chrysalis
Effect? If you do nothing else in the next week, promise me you’ll look at their website”.

I hadn’t heard of them, but I did look at their website.

Oh my goodness!

In an internet world where EVERYTHING about chronic fatigue is doom and gloom, saying “You will be like this forever”, The Chrysalis Effect were offering a structured recovery programme, designed by people who themselves had suffered with and recovered from chronic pain and fatigue. As a not-for-profit and recognising that many people in this position are on restricted incomes, the basic course, delivered online via weekly modules and membership of the positive Facebook support group, was only £24/month.

I couldn’t sign up quick enough, and I’m so glad I did.

Over the 9 months of the programme I learned all about the myriad causes of chronic fatigue. I started understanding what was happening to my mind and body. The programme gave me many suggestions, ideas and steps to aid recovery.

I knew my diet wasn’t great (feeling so rubbish does that to you, I comfort ate my way through life), so signed up to see a nutritionist/naturopath, who had herself recovered from fatigue. I embraced everything she suggested. At the bi-annual Recoverer’s Day, I sat in a roomful of approx. 100 people, many of whom had recovered. From wheelchair bound to running half marathons. From bed to world-championship glory.

It was SO inspiring.

I envisaged one of those big red thermometers that people use if they’re raising money for a new church roof - except it represented my recovery. I could see a way forward: I knew that if I made lots of small changes, they would contribute a bit here and a bit there. If I made some pretty big changes, it would increase by chunks rather than just small steps. But there had to be something else. Something that would be transformative and get me 50% of my energy back in one stroke.

I had NO IDEA what that was, but I knew it would be something.

My lovely reflexologist Siân invited me on a retreat she was organising. I’d not been on a retreat before. I felt a little out of my comfort zone but was definitely in the frame of mind for trying anything that might help. Her friend Sybil is a Spiritual Healer and was offering treatments. What the hell, why not? I thought. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

It was transformative.

The metaphorical cork burst and in unstoppable waves, the emotion came pouring out of me. I was not a mother. I was never going to be a mother. I was 45 and with no hope of ever being a mother. I was devastated. I had always wanted to be a mother but as I went through my thirties with increasing ill health and an ever higher number of hideous first dates stacking up behind me, I thought I had reconciled with not becoming a mother. When I met my boyfriend aged 43, I actually said “getting pregnant would be a disaster” and had a coil fitted.

That was the beginning of my chronic fatigue. My body HATED the coil, my mind hated it even more – together they were SCREAMING at me to take it out and try for a child, but the message got lost in translation. Childlessness was SO painful that my brain had, in order to protect me from the emotional pain, redirected it towards fatigue and physical pain instead.

Within months of the big revelation, I had started to get some energy back. The pain had reduced to the point that I could drive and I had really turned a corner. Regaining my full health and fitness continues to be a bigger challenge. Health is my number one priority and I have a range of things that I do daily, weekly and monthly that support my health.

But the story doesn’t quite end there, and no, there is no miracle baby. Two and a half years on from the big revelation, aged 47 and following a protracted debate with my boyfriend about trying IVF with a donor egg, I had to acknowledge that I was childless and started going through the very real grieving process for the children I would not have. It’s been brutal and painful and, for a long time, every day there were unexpected triggers. Even casually flicking through a Hello magazine at the hairdressers was a physical assault, with all those pregnancy bumps and new baby photoshoots (and now with COVID - no fancy magazines to tempt me. What a relief!). I don’t hate babies – I love them – I’m just not going to have my own and that’s heart breaking.

I turned once again to the internet and found Gateway Women, a support group for women who are Childless Not By Choice. I have been a member now for 2 years and have found it SO helpful. My Reignite Weekend was the beginning, I did the full year Online Bee course, and I’m now a Host for the Bath Gateway Gathering.

I understand that my situation today reflects the unintended consequence of choices I made when I was younger. Choices that have enriched my life with joy, friendship and experiences I will treasure for the rest of my life, including that nocturnal encounter with the KGB. I have made positive steps to build suitable relationships with my nephews and godchildren as they become young adults and I sponsor disadvantaged children in Tanzania to access better education.

Now, rather than burying my childlessness, it is out in the open and I am working through it. I’ve talked about it with my family and some friends, and I casually drop in to conversation “my childless support group”. It only ceases to become a taboo when we talk about it; but everyone needs to get there in their own time.

Sadly, my health continues to be an issue, with a second episode of frozen shoulder / tennis elbow last year quickly followed by a second hit of chronic fatigue. But now I have a better understanding of my body, my mind-body connection, and my minds preference to express emotional pain physically. My continued “health hiatus” is hampering my efforts to develop my Plan B, but I sure as hell will live a life full of enrichment and joy, even if it’s not quite how I imagined.

Jemma Bartholomew