I Didn’t Find My Confidence First — I Found My Freedom

For three years, I felt like a prisoner in my own home.

Not because anybody was keeping me there.

Not because I didn’t want to see my family.

Not because I didn’t want to go out and enjoy life.

My bowel simply made so much of my life impossible.

I couldn’t trust it.

I couldn’t predict it.

I couldn’t make plans without thinking about toilets, food, timing and how quickly I could get home.

My family even had a password for it.

The toilet dash.

They knew exactly what I meant.

If I said I had to do the toilet dash, they knew I could be gone for hours.

Not five minutes.

Not ten minutes.

Hours.

I could be going to the toilet more than fourteen times in four or five hours.

Yes, my bum was incredibly sore.

Sudocrem became my friend.

And strangely enough, my nails were probably the best they have ever been.

Strong and shiny.

There is always a positive somewhere, I suppose. 😂

But the truth was, I was surviving.

I was still alive.

I was still functioning.

I was still technically involved in my family’s life.

But I wasn’t truly living it.

And there is a difference.

Why not take the time and watch this FREE webinar that I created just for you

I had been confident before

Before bowel cancer, surgery and everything that followed, I was confident.

I had a career I loved.

I managed a single men’s homeless hostel and a fantastic team.

I worked hard to improve the service and raise the standards.

I wanted the men using the service to have the tools, support and opportunities to move forward in their lives.

I was hands-on.

I was busy.

I had an allotment.

I volunteered.

I loved learning.

I was a mum, a grandma, a wife and a friend.

I took my grandchildren out.

I went for walks.

I enjoyed days out.

I went to markets, theatres, exhibitions and events.

I was always doing something.

I didn’t sit around thinking about what I couldn’t do.

I simply went and did things.

Then my bowel changed everything.

When you can’t trust your bowel, your confidence changes too

People often talk about confidence as though it is something that exists separately from the rest of your life.

But how confident do you feel when you can’t trust your own body?

How confident do you feel when you don’t know whether you will make it to the toilet?

How confident do you feel when you are constantly thinking:

• Where is the nearest toilet?
• How long will I be out?
• What have I eaten?
• What if I have an accident?
• Can I trust the people I’m with?
• How quickly can I get home?

That constant thinking is exhausting.

It takes up so much space in your head.

And eventually, you begin to make your life smaller to fit around your bowel.

I stopped doing things.

I stopped going to the theatre.

I stopped going to the cinema.

I stopped going for walks.

I stopped going out for meals.

I stopped taking my grandchildren out for the days I wanted to have with them.

I stopped travelling very far.

I stopped being spontaneous.

I couldn’t just see something interesting and say:

“Let’s go and have a look at that.”

Everything had to be planned.

Food had to be considered.

The time of day had to be considered.

The location had to be considered.

The toilets had to be considered.

And sometimes, even after all that planning, my bowel still had its own ideas.

That is not living.

That is surviving.

You have just found the most beautiful and elegant stoma, ostomy lingerie. Go over and find what makes you feel comfortable again https://www.etsy.com/shop/unspokenrosebud

My second stoma, ostomy gave me something I desperately needed

When I had my second stoma, ostomy, I didn’t see it as the end of my life.

I saw what it could give me.

Freedom.

Control.

The ability to go out again.

The ability to be involved in my family’s life.

The ability to make memories.

The ability to say yes.

I had already lost three years of my life to being trapped by my bowel.

I knew exactly what it felt like to have no quality of life.

So I wasn’t thinking:

“What can’t I do with a stoma?”

I was thinking:

“What will I be able to do now?”

And that difference in thinking was incredibly important for me.

I wasn’t looking at the bag as something that was going to take my life away.

I was looking at it as something that could help me get my life back.

And it did.

I didn’t suddenly become confident

There wasn’t one magical day when I woke up and thought:

“Today I am confident again.”

It happened gradually.

I started healing.

I started going out.

I started doing more.

I started saying yes.

Someone could say:

“Do you fancy an ice cream?”

And I could say:

“Yes.”

Not:

“What time?”

Not:

“Where are the toilets?”

Not:

“What if my bowel kicks off?”

Just:

“Yes.”

I could go for a walk.

I could take my grandchildren to rugby.

I could go to their matches.

I could take them somewhere else afterwards.

I could go to a garden centre.

I could visit a local market.

I could go to a theatre.

I could go on a long car journey.

I could go out for a meal.

I could eat a bag of chips if I fancied one.

And yes, I still have to be sensible with some foods because I have an ileostomy.

But I can eat.

I can go out.

I can enjoy myself.

I can live.

this is how I have set up my bathroom, for ease, confidence and being able to relax. Drop this FREE pdf now https://bit.ly/3yyyJiv

Confidence came from doing

This is something I wish more people understood.

You don’t always become confident and then start doing things.

Sometimes you start doing things, and confidence grows from there.

You take one small step.

Then another.

You go out for a short time.

Then perhaps a little longer.

You go somewhere familiar.

Then somewhere new.

You take everything with you at first.

Then perhaps a little less.

You learn what works for your body.

You find the right bag system.

You learn what products work for your skin.

You learn what to do if you have a leak.

You learn how to manage the noises.

You learn that sometimes your bag will make a noise in a quiet place.

And you learn that most people don’t actually care.

I have sat in the dentist’s chair while my bag decided to join the conversation.

I have had my bag make a noise in public.

I have had leaks.

I have changed my entire bag in the back of the car in a lay-by in Wales.

And I carried on.

Because it was my normal.

It might not have been everybody else’s idea of normal.

But it was mine.

The bag doesn’t rule my life

This is something I say often:

The bag doesn’t rule my life. I do.

That doesn’t mean I never have problems.

Of course I do.

I have leaks.

I have noisy days.

I have fatigue.

I have pain.

I have days where my body says:

“Absolutely not.”

And I have to listen.

That has been one of the hardest lessons for me.

I have always been someone who gets on with things.

I like to be busy.

I like to achieve things.

I like to help people.

So when fatigue comes along after I have pushed myself for several days, I have to accept that my body needs rest.

And I have learned that if I ignore it, the pain often gets worse.

So now I listen.

I rest.

And then I get back to doing what I want to do.

Resting doesn’t mean my confidence has disappeared.

It means I am learning to work with my body instead of constantly fighting against it.

My confidence looks different now

Confidence for me today is being able to talk openly about living with a stoma, ostomy.

I can talk about poo.

I can talk about leaks.

I can talk about noise.

I can talk about the emotional side.

I can talk about how it feels to have a bag stuck to my tummy.

I can talk about the things that are difficult.

I can talk about the things that are funny.

I can talk about all of it.

Because I have nothing to hide.

I can wear what I want.

I can go where I want.

I can talk to whoever I want.

If somebody sees my bag, then they see my bag.

If it makes a noise, then it makes a noise.

If a dog comes over and starts sniffing my tummy, then I explain it.

Dogs will usually sniff around your bum.

But obviously, my bum isn’t where they expect it to be anymore.

So my bag gets the attention instead.

People look at me strangely, and I simply say:

“It’s okay. I’ve got a stoma.”

And then they understand.

Usually.

Sometimes they still look a little confused.

But that’s okay too. 😂

I have learned to find solutions

I don’t look at a problem and decide:

“That’s it. I can’t do that anymore.”

I look at it and think:

“Right. How can we work around this?”

If I want a massage but can’t lie on my tummy, then we find a way to adapt the massage.

If I am going out all day, I can wear a bigger bag.

If I’m going somewhere without a toilet, I can take tissues and a bag.

If I have a leak, I deal with it.

If my body is tired, I rest.

If I can’t do something in the way I used to, I find another way.

There is more than one way to skin a cat.

Although, with the number of cats in my life, I would like to make it very clear that I am not suggesting anybody actually skins one.

My cats are far too opinionated for that anyway. 😂

But the point is this:

There is often more than one way to do something.

You might need to adapt.

You might need to be creative.

You might need to find a different solution.

But different does not automatically mean impossible.

Your confidence doesn’t have to look like mine

I want to say this because I don’t want you to compare yourself to me.

You might read that I go out without carrying stoma, ostomy supplies and think:

“How on earth can she do that?”

And that’s okay.

Your confidence doesn’t need to look like mine.

You might need to carry supplies.

You might need spare clothes.

You might need to know exactly where the toilets are.

You might not be ready to go out for a full day.

You might only be ready to sit in the garden.

That’s okay.

Your journey is yours.

I didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly go out without anything.

I built up my confidence slowly.

I went out.

I came home.

Nothing happened.

I went out again.

I did more.

I had a few mishaps.

I dealt with them.

And eventually, I realised:

“I can do this.”

Surviving is not the same as living

For three years, I survived.

I was still here.

I was still breathing.

I was still functioning.

But I felt like a prisoner in my own home.

And I knew I was worth more than that.

You are worth more than simply surviving too.

You deserve to experience life.

To love.

To laugh.

To create memories.

To try new things.

To be part of the lives of the people you love.

That doesn’t mean every day will be wonderful.

It doesn’t mean you have to be grateful every second.

It doesn’t mean you have to pretend that the hard days don’t exist.

Life was never perfect before your stoma, ostomy.

You had bad days before surgery.

You had difficult moments before your diagnosis.

You had problems before your body changed.

The difference is that now you are learning how to live with something new.

And that takes time.

If you are sitting at home thinking your life is over

Please listen to me.

Your life is not over.

It might be different.

It might be difficult.

It might feel frightening right now.

You might not recognise your body.

You might not feel confident.

You might not know how you are going to do this.

But your life is not over.

Your confidence might be wobbly.

That’s okay.

You don’t have to wait until you feel completely confident before you take your next step.

Start small.

Do what feels possible for you.

Take a walk.

Sit in the garden.

Go to the shop.

Have a coffee.

Visit someone you trust.

Take the next step.

Then, when you are ready, take another one.

You don’t have to become me.

You don’t have to do what I do.

You just need to discover what is possible for you.

I found my freedom

I didn’t get my old body back.

I didn’t get my old bowel back.

I didn’t get my old life back exactly as it was.

But I found freedom.

I found spontaneity.

I found new ways of doing things.

I found a new purpose.

I found my voice.

I found a part of myself that I didn’t even realise was there.

And I discovered that I am stronger than I thought I was.

I am still stubborn.

I am still impatient.

I still push myself too hard sometimes.

I still have days where I am tired and in pain.

I still have leaks.

I still have noisy bags.

But I am living.

I am creating memories.

I am helping people.

I am laughing.

I am going out.

I am learning.

I am enjoying my life.

And I am proud of myself.

So if you are waiting until you feel confident before you start living again, perhaps try this instead:

Take one small step.

Then another.

Let confidence grow as you go.

Because you might discover that confidence wasn’t waiting for you at the end of the road.

Perhaps it was waiting for you to start walking.

🌹 The bag is part of your life. It is not all of your life.

And remember:

The bag doesn’t rule your life. You do.

🌹 Helinka’s Truth

Confidence didn’t arrive one Tuesday morning.

It grew every time I said yes instead of no.

Every little outing.

Every little walk.

Every problem I solved.

Every leak I survived.

Every laugh.

That’s how confidence grows.

You don’t have to wait until you feel ready.

Start where you are.

Take the next step.

The bag doesn’t rule your life.

You do. 🌹