Rhi

My endometriosis journey began quietly, long before I had the language to name it. At the end of 2020, I was in what I thought was the best shape of my life. Throughout lockdown, fitness had become my anchor, something I could control in a world that felt uncertain. In December, I pushed myself through a huge challenge: running 100 miles in a single month to raise money for charities that meant the world to me. I finished it proud, exhilarated, and ready for whatever challenge came next.

But only days later, everything changed.

I suddenly found myself unable to walk properly, unable to run, unable to do the very thing that had always kept me grounded. The pain was excruciating, a kind of pain I had never felt before and yet I couldn’t make sense of it. I assumed it had to be an injury from the challenge, but deep down something didn’t feel right.

I went to my GP that same week. What followed were two months of blood tests, repeat appointments, and uncertainty. When the results didn’t fit into any easy explanation, I was eventually told I had “long Covid,” even though none of my symptoms aligned with it. And so, I kept going, living with pain that made even a short walk down the street feel impossible. My fitness, my movement, my independence, everything I loved, was slipping away.

By May 2021, I reached a breaking point. I tried to gently reintroduce movement, pushing myself to do what I could. But after a short workout, my body completely collapsed. The pain was unbearable. I had to call an ambulance for myself as I was alone, terrified, and unsure what was happening to me. That moment changed everything. It forced doctors to finally consider something new, something that hadn’t been mentioned before: PCOS.

An internal scan confirmed it. I was advised to start the pill and hope things would improve. But they didn’t.

I decided to seek my own path to answers, turning to holistic care. I found a wonderful acupuncturist who specialised in women’s health and reproductive conditions. Through her compassion and knowledge, I finally felt heard. She guided me toward an Endometriosis Support Group, and for the first time in months, I found validation. I found people who understood. But alongside that comfort came frustration, because I realised just how deeply I had been let down by the system that was supposed to help me.

Armed with knowledge from other women and from specialists who took the time to listen, I went back to my GP and demanded more. This time, things moved faster. I was referred to a private clinic accepting NHS patients, a team that finally validated everything I had been experiencing. They listened without dismissal, offered real options, and prepared me for what would ultimately be needed: a laparoscopy.

Four weeks later, I woke up from surgery with the diagnosis I had known in my bones all along: Endometriosis. The emotional relief, the validation, the flood of finally being believed was overwhelming. In some ways, that moment was even more intense than the physical pain I had endured for months.

But as anyone with endometriosis knows, diagnosis is not the end. It is the beginning.

Living With Endo & Showing Up in the Corporate World

Life after diagnosis has been a rollercoaster. The flare-ups, the fatigue, the days where getting up feels like climbing a mountain, these are things that most people will never see. Navigating this while working in a corporate environment added another layer of complexity. I found myself having to educate my employer, especially my (male) manager, because endometriosis simply wasn’t understood. I needed support, awareness, flexibility and instead I was often met with blank expressions, as though the condition I was describing was something newly invented.

• This is why awareness matters.
• This is why advocacy matters.
• This is why I speak up.

I want people in all workplaces, large and small to understand that endometriosis is real, life-altering, and deserving of respect. I want employers to step up, to adopt the Endometriosis Employer Recognition Scheme, and to create environments where people like us are supported rather than doubted.

And I want to create the community I needed: a space where people feel safe, validated, and empowered. A community that understands the weight of this journey, the physical pain, the emotional toll, the invisible battles we fight every day.

If I can be even 1% of the change, if I can help even one other woman feel seen, heard, and supported, then my journey has purpose.

Our bodies deserve respect from healthcare providers, employers, friends, family, and from ourselves. And I am committed to being part of the movement that brings that change to life.