And there it is – that old c*** ND burnout. I woke this morning with that overwhelming feeling of dread, mixed with some angry tears.
Someone text me yesterday to say that I had been quiet on blogging again. Indeed I have. I’ve been saving my spoons – if you don’t know what I mean, Google it – the short version is saving energy if you are ND or have chronic illness.
So I’ve been taking a step back. Not networking, not blogging, stripping back the people I see outside work to my “inner circle”.
I marched into 2026, head held high, excited for an epic year having put last year’s divorce and other issues behind me. By mid-January I was already in A&E. I’d trundled off to the GP thinking I had a UTI and needed antibiotics, and as usual that’s where I ended up. I’m the proverbial medical hot potato.
Since then I’ve been at the mercy of the NHS whilst navigating my private health insurance company’s commitment to not coughing up with any excuse possible. Multiple trips to London for appointments and invasive tests, an emotional rollercoaster and exhaustion.
BUT “everyone’s exhausted this year”. Business is tough, employees want more, director owners are grafting more and earning less.
Mine is medical exhaustion. The sort you feel in every cell of your body. It won’t go away with some early nights or a holiday.
I’ll openly admit I’m likely to be the most resilient MOFO you’ve ever met, and I will bounce back in dramatic style, probably overnight at some point.
I’ve asked my mate to make me a T-shirt that says “DON’T ASK ME HOW I AM”. The fact I’ve been wearing jeans and a hoody to the office should answer that, thanks.
And please don’t ask if I enjoyed the summer holidays – six f****** days we had away between appointments. They were the best, fantastic days though, with my boy.
Other highlights include: “If you just agree to give up work and claim sickness, we can help you.”
Like f*** am I going to do that.
And when you’ve been telling someone close how bad you’ve felt for months, then get a surgery list – basically all non-essential things in my abdomen need to go, plus some deep endo – and their reply is:
“Jesus, is it really that bad? But you look so good.”
Therein lies the nature of invisible illness.
I’ll be working more than ever because I absolutely love it. I love my team, I love the clients, I love the buzz, I love making a difference to people’s lives – because when you’re a decent boss and accountant, that’s what you can do.
Amazing things are happening at Wynne and Co (watch this space) and I’ve never felt more driven or more proud of what we’ve built.
I get at least two offers a week to buy the company, with a bigger and bigger multiple – why the hell would I do that when Catrin and I are in our prime??? Absolute madness!
I continue to take pride in saying:
“Just because I have a vagina, does not mean my balls are not bigger than yours.”