Resilience - to living life

There’s something about the shower. Maybe it's the rhythm of the water, the quiet, the warmth — but it’s where my mind begins to drift. Thoughts click into place before I even realise I'm thinking. Some of my clearest insights come there, and today was no different. I think it must be the water!

I remember as a child I was very under weight, hard to believe now, and I have to giggle at that, but I would swim every day, 40 lengths at our local pool, my Mum would walk up and down each length with me, I would see her from the side of my goggles, their was a comfort to know she was there, she was so dedicated to encouraging and supporting me. I was only 8 years old doing this, I loved being in the water, my coach at the time, said I was an endurance swimmer, I never tired of swimming, I had a vision of swimming Cook Strait or even the English Channel!

It's funny what you imagine your capable of, but those dreams - they taught me, tenacity, resilience, a kind of inner determination that can't be measured by medals, my Mum taught me those values in quiet, consistent ways and for that I will always be grateful, some of this resilience has been the making of me, but also the undoing, where I have placed myself in situations that I failed to recognise as detrimental to my health and that is really why I find myself here today.

Sharing an episode of my life.

At ten years old my nighty caught fire at home, my parents had recently separated and my cousin was babysitting me, at the time we were redoing the rooms with new wallpaper and for some reason as it was stripped down, we were allowed to write or draw on the walls, so this particular evening I went up to write above the fireplace, the fire was going, but it had huge pieces of wood with very little to no flame, so I thought I was safe, but how wrong I was!

I struggled with my parents separation, it was a very challenging time to lose that fundamental family unit, so the message I wrote on the wall was 'I love my Mum and Dad' a very raw moment, when I look back on it now, a child longing for something that would never be the same again, I had a long winceyette nighty on and whoosh it was alight within seconds, the fear I felt as the flames engulfed my body and the nighty melted and stuck to my skin.

My instant reaction was of course to put it out, so I ran to the kitchen sink in an attempt to put it out with water, then to the lounge, I remember our cat staring at me as she sat comfortably on the book shelf, amongst the chaos, and here I was in such overwhelming panic, I then headed to my bedroom where I grabbed my huge stuffed toy blue and white dog in an attempt to stomp the fire out. but to no avail.

My poor cousin who was all of 16 years old, horrific baby sitting experience for him was clever enough to catch me and he quickly rolled me in a mat that was in our lounge and put the fire out, naturally shock quickly set in, by the time my Mum arrived, I had completely redressed myself like nothing had happened and I was adamant that I did not need to go to the hospital, I was rushed to A&E where I was placed in a baby bath of ice, third degree burns, to my upper right leg, the right side of my abdomen were 2nd degree burns, hands superficial burns from constantly trying to put the fire out and of course burns all over other areas too where the nighty and my underwear got sealed into the skin, that was that, it was a traumatic experience for a ten year old and to my horror I had to lie totally naked in a single room, on a bed of mesh as I healed, my Mum made me a small pink lace beautiful bib to cover my chest to make me feel better, so I didn't feel so exposed, three months in hospital followed by surgery known as skin grafts where skin was taken from my left thigh to heal the 3rd degree burns on my right, this took months overall and as a child your naturally resistant with the support and love of those around you, but it was a difficult and isolating time in many ways.

Remember my love of swimming, after I had been cleared by my burns specialist I returned to the pool, I was covered in scars. I felt exposed, embarrassed. People stared - I secretly wanted to hide. I remember how awkward I felt, how ashamed and embarrassed of my scarring that was really evident on my body and how those around me stared in what I thought was judgement, but there was probably an element of curiosity, I felt vulnerable and different amongst my peers, but again my Mum was there, she was a pillar of strength 'Be you," she said. "Once they understand, they'll accept you." and she encouraged me to just be myself, despite the scars, she was correct and I had to be brave, but there is a deeper message here.....

I had to accept myself too!

Still love the water, little cold immersion dip in Lake Te Anau, Southland, New Zealand, last September, yes it was C O L D!

So, what’s the point of sharing this story?

Maybe it’s about honouring the resilience that shaped me — the kind passed down from a mother who walked every length of the pool with me. Maybe it’s about recognising that strength and sensitivity can coexist. Or maybe it’s just part of remembering — that we come through so much more than we realise, and still find ourselves, somehow, in the water again, often treading to keep afloat but we choose to swim strong against the tide.

The body, the mind remembers, that what we experience — physically, emotionally — imprints itself deep within us. My burns may have healed on the outside, but the scarring went further than the surface. It shaped how I saw myself. It taught me resilience, yes, but it also made me hyper-aware of being "different." but it also taught me the courage of pushing through.

Decades later, my body is still speaking — Chronic pain had also engulfed my body and now the progression, this time through the lens of an impaired lymphatic system. I developed Lymphoedema over 30 years after the burns, and alongside it, Lipoedema. Two conditions that again made me confront my body, my image, my identity. They challenged me in a new way: not through sudden trauma, but through the slow, relentless build-up of swelling, heaviness, discomfort… and shame that I had created this to happen, those around me only seen me gaining weight, there were assumptions, judgements and thoughts this was all self inflicted, but as I learned about the lymphatic system, the burns, the surgeries, the injuries, chronic pain all played an integral part of triggering this lymphatic dysfunction.

And again, I had to accept myself.

The message I’m sharing here isn’t just about survival or pain — it’s about connection. Between then and now. Between scarring and swelling. Between resilience and recognition. This isn’t just a story about a little girl who caught fire — it’s about a woman who had to keep learning how to live in her skin, even when that skin changed.

Lymphoedema and Lipoedema challenge how you see yourself. They test your patience, your confidence, your energy, how you dress, how you feel in your body, its impactful to the core, But life… my life is still for living how I choose, despite it, My mum taught me that. Every lap she walked with me. Every time she reminded me to be proud, even when I felt exposed.

So I walk now — sometimes slower, always swollen, heavy, often tired — but I choose to walk forward.

There has to be a time to stop and reflect and consider the triggers, then understand what your body is doing to manage all these challenges it throws at it both mentally and physically, the inflammation, you have to build stamina, everyone has had a challenge - that is life, but how we choose to tackle it is what makes the difference.

And maybe, most of all, this is about ownership.

Owning my story. Owning the scars. Owning the chronic pain I live with every day — not for sympathy, but for the freedom I am wanting, that I crave to be able to run, to jump, to feel light and agile, to wear pretty shoes, to feel whole in a body that I felt had betrayed me, because the pain is taxing. It wears me down. But I had to learn to love my body, to talk to it positively, to embrace all its flaws that tell my story. I know I am stubborn. determined. Life is for living — still. Maybe even more so because of everything I’ve survived so far and I am not done yet, so much to see and do.

So I walk now. Slower, perhaps. Swollen. Tired. But I walk with a hobble. I laugh. I keep showing up.

Because I’ve learned that survival is one thing. But choosing to live — fully, joyfully, scarred and all — that’s where strength really lives, these conditions do not define who I am, they are part of who I am, we live in a world that often sidelines or misunderstands chronic pain and conditions as we know like Lymphoedema and Lipoedema.

As a Health Coach, I am sharing moments of my life - for the process of coaching is about building on what already exists within you, know you are a whole, resourceful, beautiful person who has also built resilience through your own life experiences, acknowledge them, embrace what it taught you and who you have become today despite it, each of us is unique.

Health Coaching is exciting because it allows you space and time to recognise these steps that have formed who you are today, you can then decide what you want to change, what you need to address, what you want to work on, so you can become strong in knowing who you are despite all that these lymphatic conditions bring to your life, if any of this resonates with you and you are ready to 'explore what matters' to you, then I am here for you, lets see if we can work together to improve balance and quality to your life. I am ready to meet you, are you? :)

'Explore what matters, living your life, loving your lymph'

J