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I said no to something wonderful — & my pain disappeared

  • 1 day ago
  • 9 min read

A new chapter. An old one closing. And a body that's finally finding its way home.


Last week my son started High School. And the week before that after taking Naproxen for one year - I stopped.


I'm going to let that sentence sit there for a moment. Because sometimes the biggest shifts deserve a breath before we rush to fill the space around them.


Yes — my son really did start High School. There's so much swirling within me in relation to this, but I trust that you have your own chapter unfolding this week, and I want to invite you (and me) to linger with the energy surrounding that for a bit.


It's big, beautiful, and bloody significant.


In the lead-up to today, I knew I needed to honour this momentous time. Not only the start of High School, but the end of six and a half glorious weeks of full-time single parenting a superhuman — as a superhuman.


I've never wanted a massage more in my life. (I probably say that every single time, to be fair). I've gotten really good at prioritising my own self-care. Not taking care of me? Frankly, that's not an option anymore.


So many significant things have unfolded the week before school started.


AND THE MOST NEWSWORTHY being I attended a follow-up appointment with the Rheumatology Department (more on that below).

One year ago, driving my son to school for his first day of P7, I burst out crying. The pain in my body was so intense. I'd been carrying an increasing amount of discomfort and exhaustion since January 2025.


That day one year ago, I felt like I'd hit the bottom. I told my son I was scared and thought I needed to go to hospital. He insisted I go.


After dropping him off, I came home to two angel friends who happened to be calling in. One drove me to hospital. The other cleaned my house and moved beds between rooms — I'd been sleeping on a futon, and getting off the floor was impossible.


In hospital I was assessed, told to get my GP to start an arthritis investigation and left having been prescribed Naproxen (an intensely strong anti-inflammatory) and Omeprazole (a pill to protect my gut from the damage the first one would do).


I continued visiting my herbalist and taking herbal concoctions and vitamins to support myself.


A week backstory; after returning from New Zealand in December 2024 where I had my last ever period on what turned out to be a really challenging trip and returning straight into full-time single parenting — I made the decision to commit to three months of fortnightly self-care sessions.


Massages. Bodywork. Reflexology. Acupuncture. Herbalism. I kept up with the herbalist but eventually paused the rest. The cash commitment could only stretch so far.


I also sought support from Women's Aid, because the shift in my parenting circumstances was a lot to process, and I needed to stay well enough to show up fully for myself and my son, and I was partnered with an angel who visited me every week and we worked through paperwork, emails, emotions aswell as making our way through the various snacks and drinks I’d prepared!.


Fast forward to two weeks before the 2026 summer holidays ended - and I said no to something I'd committed to. There was a camping trip to England — a beautiful gathering created by a friend, with a festival feel. Loads of people I know were going, some even because I was! Charlie would have had a brilliant time: running around, fresh air, proper human connection, building friendships, no screens in sight. All the ingredients that really matter to me.


And I cancelled.

Because when I really looked at what Charlie — and I — needed that final week, I realised that more wasn't necessarily better.


Instead, we prioritised the things that already bring him so much joy and regulation. Basketball camps, three hours every day. Seeing the new Spider-Man film. Being at home. Eating, sleeping, doing the washing, getting ready for school, going to Edinburgh to check out some of the Fringe Festival.


We’d said no and in return claimed S P A C E


And somehow, that was MORE THAN ENOUGH.


A former version of me would have tried to squeeze it all in. "We can do the camping trip. He'll love it. We don't want to miss out, it won’t be as much as I think it might be, we’ll chill there and then when we’re back."


What I'm learning is that sometimes saying no to something wonderful is still the right decision. Even when it's hard. Even when other people are going. Even when your child would probably have had an amazing time.


Because the final week of the holidays wasn't about squeezing in one last adventure. It was about creating enough space for our nervous systems to settle and for us to presence to the things in our daily life, that if I’m honest can get shoved to the side. My son even started back on the 3D reading method which he’d learned while attending the Change Your Life program in Varzi, Italy in April earlier this year, you can read about that time here 'Following the nudge: A mother, a son, a season of growth & Italy'. That gear needs the pace of SPACE.


As I write this, I can’t deny in any way, shape or form that one week into school we have a settled, regulated, child, and a settled, regulated mum. I can’t stress enough just how instrumental saying no was to bringing about this reality.


There's a lot of pressure to make childhood full. Full of experiences, opportunities, memories. But maybe a full life doesn't have to mean a full schedule.


Sometimes the greatest gift we can give our children is a little less. Less rushing. Less stimulation. Less pressure. More space. More connection. More breathing room.


And sometimes, the hardest no turns out to be the thing that helps both of you arrive exactly where you need to be.


Here's what happened in my body when I gave us that space: my pain mostly disappeared. I felt so well in myself. It was as though I could see with X-ray vision all the places and spaces within me that had been tense, tender, and triggered. It wasn’t until day 3 after my No that I realised I’d not taken a single anti-inflammatory!!! I was only taking ¼ of what my GP had recommended, but still - astounding! I tuned into my inner knowing which said ‘take these pills for up to one year to get a breather from the pain and in that time figure out how the future in this body works’. Can you even believe it had been a year. Here was my invitation to stop. Gives me shivers as I recapitulate all of that.


The discomfort has crept back since, every morning I wake I can barely move, it takes time and a loving determination. And hey, my morning routine has also crept back in, and yup it's solid as a Sunday roast.


AND THAT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE - I’m managing my magical body and my mindset.


I'm up at least ninety minutes before my son, practising the Miracle Morning routine (thank you, Hal Elrod), in a group with fellow Miracle Morning-ers. Meditating, writing, reading, cold podding, exercising, visualising, affirming and feeling ready for the day before my son gets up. It's the best start to my day.



And so last week on the day before school started back, I went to that Rheumatology follow-up appt. Here's what the doctor had to say: "You, without a doubt, have Fibromyalgia.

"Your markers don't match with an autoimmune disorder”.

“Don't join a support group — your situation is yours, and you can't compare it with others”.

“What you're doing with your wellbeing is perfect; it's probably why you're feeling so well”.

“Stopping the anti-inflammatories was a great decision — those things are terrible for you”.

“You will continue to feel better, this is a phase”.


It feels vital that I say at this point that this is not to project or take away from what anyone else with Fibromyalgia is dealing with, it's intense and if you live with this condition and/or chronic pain, I'm sending you a whole lot of love for what you're dealing with. I have mixed feelings historically about this condition AND this is my story and I’m only here to share truthfully how the story is unfolding for me.


The Dr explained the cycle: tiredness, pain, anxiety, depression — each one feeding the next. And he explained a common pattern with Fibromyalgia: when someone reports loss of pain on holiday or when stress lessens, only for pain to return with normal life duties, that fits the Fibromyalgia picture.


What I described — the pain lifting after I cancelled a commitment — fit.


And I'm here to report that I'm already starting to feel better. I can't quite believe it — and I totally can.


My mindset has shifted entirely since this time last year. I'm seeing the pain, and this stage, as a teacher. I'm 18 months into menopause, and my body has been going through stuff. I've been told countless times to go on HRT. So far, I've refused. I’m a natural (do it the hard way some would say) kind of gal!


I've had no choice but to slow down and move at a pace that doesn't completely wipe me out. I cancelled all my weekly dance classes, events and even stopped teaching Nia. I was at capacity just getting my son where he needs to go and making sure our core needs — and a little extra — were taken care of, like staying on top of the house and the 48 1.8x1.8m fence panels I've been painting my way through!


I'm starting to see the silver lining for having prioritised us. The light in the tunnel. The calm in the storm. I'm writing to you from that place, I'm actually here right now!.

And now that my days are a little longer — hello, I've claimed an extra two and a half hours each day as my son leaves earlier and returns later AND I don’t need to drive him to and from school — I'm feeling so much space, ease, and flow. Mums' Taxi still operates most days for basketball and that’s a total joy - it's on those journeys we talk and there’s a really lovely presence that exists between us.


I mean, I've basically written this entire blog post in 2 sittings, they normally go on and on and on. The day High School started (when I had a 90 minute massage and spent three hours doing companion work for Ageless Companions) and today when I've spread soil and grass seed, cut an overhanging tree down and put away a bulk buy or organic dry goods. I’m off to bust out some laps at the swimming pool before I have a sauna this afternoon too.



Life is so different. It’s astounding! Unheard of over here. I wondered if life could ever look and feel like this and I'm here, I've made it to the future. I can't wait to see how it continues to unfold from here.


I'm feeling the return of energy in my system for the work I love — the work that has, honestly, been on hold.


This is the work that lives at the intersection of everything I've lived: neurodiversity, menopause, parenting a sensitive child, and living with chronic pain. Not as abstract topics, but as chapters of my own story — chapters I now get to turn into something that helps others reclaim their truth.


Through my SHINE programme, one-to-one coaching, and Movement that Matters, I support people navigating exactly these intersections. Because I know what it feels like to be in the thick of it. And I know what it feels like trust that it’s all happening for some kind of higher good. I’m different because of everything that’s happened, my son’s different - our relationship is different.


We didn’t get here by pushing harder, we got here by slowing down enough to listen.


I'm so energised by what's ahead that I've even planned an event — an end-of-summer beach silent disco! Because if there's one thing this journey has taught me, it's that healing and joy belong together. Movement, music, sea air, and community. No pressure, no performance. Just bringing people together.


A dear client I worked with recently — a mum navigating her own version of overwhelm, her own body's signals, her own child's needs — said something to me that I've carried ever since:


"I didn't realise how much I was holding until you showed me it was okay to set it down."


That's the heart of this work. Not fixing. Not pushing through. But creating the space to see clearly, feel deeply, and choose differently.


So here's my questions to you:


What chapter is closing for you right now?


What might open up if you gave yourself permission to pause?


If something in this post resonated — if you're in the thick of chronic pain, navigating neurodiversity, moving through menopause, parenting a sensitive soul, or simply standing at the threshold of something new — I'd love to hear from you and maybe our journeys will see us walking alongside one another.



And if you fancy dancing on a beach with us — come along to the silent disco.


Thank you for being here, and here's to honouring the start of a new chapter — and the ending of an old one.


With love,

Bron 💜


A gentle invitation for you, the reader


If you're still here I'd LOVE to hear a few words on how this post has landed with you minus the professional editing :) Constructive feedback is always welcome. I've also 0 interest in continuing as my own editor.


In case you forgot to remind yourself today, you matter and what you're dealing with matters. X


To stay in touch in a space where everyone is welcome, sign up to my newsletter at www.bronwyntutty.com, I share an occasional newsletter, irregular 'Tutty's Top 3 Takeaways' & blog posts and exciting news about programs and events.


If it’s something in-person that you're after, I am a Trauma Informed Transformational Coach and I'm hooked on coaching! If this interests you, why not book in for a free online 45 minute 1-2-1 discovery call.


 
 
 

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