Here's the thing. The internet didn't exist when I was suffering.

I want you to let that land for a second. If you've always had a phone in your hand, always had somewhere to go and find someone else who understood, think about what that means for your pain. You are alone. With your pain. Every single day. And every professional you see is telling you there's nothing wrong with you.

I need to say something that might sound strange coming from a woman who has built her entire business around this disease. I don't care about endometriosis. Not the statistics, not the latest medical technology, not another reel telling me how debilitating it is, how much it hurts, how it ruins your life. I already know. I lived it.

By the time the internet did arrive, and content about this disease finally existed, I went looking for the thing I'd never had, someone else's story to make mine feel less alone. And I found it, eventually, everywhere. But I started to notice something. Every story had the same shape. The same dismissal from doctors, the same blank ignorance from friends and family who meant well and understood nothing, the same grief, the same pain, the same trauma, told over and over with almost nothing new underneath it. No pioneering research being led, not back then anyway, there's more of that now, but for a long time it was just noise, the same noise, on repeat.

Here's what nobody tells you about that noise. I had started building a life of wellness and positivity, slowly, painfully, one relaxed breath at a time, and every time I let that content in, my body didn't feel informed. It felt hunted. Straight back into fight or flight, straight back into the negative thinking I'd spent years learning my way out of. So at some point, I stopped. I turned inward instead, and I started listening to what my own body was actually asking for, rather than what everyone else's story said it should be asking for.

It started with reflexology, and honestly, I thought it was ridiculous. Someone pressing points on my foot was going to do what, exactly? That first time really hurt. Pain so deep I had no name for it. I'd jump, flinch and feel tense. Slowly, over time, with monthly sessions I learned to relax. Actually relax. It was breathtaking, the first time I felt it properly.

Reiki came next, and it didn't find me easily either. I couldn't feel energy the way other people described feeling it, and the whole concept seemed odd to me, sensing your own life force, or someone else's. But as I learned to properly relax, this massage for the soul, as I call it, started to appear. It was life changing. I'd visit places in my mind that felt like something out of a fairy tale, light, a quiet awareness that there was something else out there, and some part of me thought, I knew it. I'd always been the child who daydreamed, who made up stories full of fairies. This felt like coming home to that.

Then yoga, and I'll be honest, I hated it at first. I went because of back pain, frumpy mat, frumpy me, no idea that the pain was endometriosis because nobody had ever told me that was even a possibility. But I've always said it since: yoga saved me. I gave up smoking. I gave up drinking. I'd already found a connection to my body through reflexology and reiki, but this was something else, something deeper. My teacher used to say "your body gives you nothing if you don't breathe", and that's stayed with me ever since, on the mat and off it. Breath is where you learn to acknowledge the pain, the distress, the anxiety, and actually navigate it rather than just survive it. Yoga taught me stillness. It taught me that every part of the body is connected, and that fixing one part doesn't mean you've fixed the whole of you.

That's where reflexology, reiki and yoga started to interweave, and that's when I stumbled onto Traditional Chinese Medicine, and everything clicked into place. There was an overriding hierarchy to all of it, a road map I'd never had. I'd been trying to fix a body that doesn't run on medicine. People thought I was woo woo. A witch, even. But TCM gave me language for what I'd already started to feel: stagnation, Qi, meridians, which I think of as the pathway to your lifeforce, in the same way veins are the vehicle for your blood.

It's technical. It's confusing, if you come at it cold. Which is exactly why I built the BHR Framework™, Body Heart Release, a modern way of holding all these modalities in one place, entwined rather than separate. Bringing in the Inner Seasons, Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, has been pivotal in how I now talk to women about how they should be living. We were not built to run 9 to 5. We were not built the same as men. We are built to live cyclically, spiritually, in rhythm rather than against it.

So no, I don't care about endometriosis, not the version of it that just repeats pain back to you on a loop. What I care about is what's on the other side of turning inward, and if you want to find out what that looks like for you, the free quiz is exactly where I'd point you, it'll show you your own pattern through the same lens I've just walked you through mine.

Suze x 🌊