Sarah was in her mid-50s when she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. At the time, it didn’t fully land. The changes had been small to start with. A tremor in her hand, taking a bit longer to do things, feeling more tired than she used to. It was the kind of thing you can explain away for a while, or just push through.
And for a time, that’s what she did. She told herself she was managing.
What caught her off guard wasn’t just the physical side of it. It was how it started to affect how she felt about herself.
It wasn’t all at once. It crept in. Feeling less sure of herself, more aware of what she couldn’t do in the way she once had. There were moments where she’d catch her reflection and it didn’t quite match how she felt inside. That sense of “that’s me, but it doesn’t feel like me” can be hard to explain, but it’s something a lot of people recognise.
Before all of this, Sarah had a strong sense of who she was. She was capable, organised, the one people relied on. That didn’t just disappear, but it didn’t feel as steady anymore either. She found herself needing help with things she used to do without thinking, taking longer, second-guessing herself.
Alongside that, there was often a quiet feeling of guilt. Like she should be coping better. Like she was somehow letting people down.
From the outside, not much had really changed. She was still getting through the day, still doing what needed to be done. But underneath, it felt very different. There was a constant awareness of her body, and a bit of uncertainty about what each day might look like. Some days were fine. Other days felt harder, more frustrating. And there were moments where she felt a sense of loss for how things used to be.
Not everything had gone, but something had shifted. And that mattered.
Living with something like Parkinson’s disease isn’t just a physical experience. It can start to affect how you see yourself, your confidence, and how you move through the world. There can be a kind of grief in that, even if it doesn’t always get called that. Grief for the version of you that felt easier, or more certain. Grief for the unknowns ahead.
Over time, Sarah realised she was holding a lot of this in. Trying to stay strong, not wanting to worry the people around her, telling herself to just get on with it. But the thoughts were still there underneath. Questions about who she was now, and feelings she hadn’t really had space to make sense of.
In the work with Sarah, we didn’t try to fix anything or rush her towards acceptance. Instead, we slowed things down and made space for what had been going on underneath. That included the frustration, the sense of loss, and the uncertainty, but also the pressure she was putting on herself to cope in a certain way. Often, just having that recognised without it being brushed aside or made smaller made a difference in itself.
Over time, we began to look at how she was seeing herself. Not in a forced “think positively” kind of way, but more gently. Moving away from measuring herself against who she had been before, and towards understanding who she is now, in the middle of all of this. We paid attention to what hadn’t gone, as well as what had changed, and how she could hold onto a sense of herself, even as things continued to shift.
It wasn’t about taking the difficulty away. It was about helping it feel a little less overwhelming, and a little less like something she had to carry on her own.
If something in this feels familiar, you’re not alone in it. Living with a chronic condition can affect much more than your physical health. It can quietly shape how you see yourself, how you feel, and how you find your place in your life again.
I offer a calm, supportive space to explore this, at a pace that feels right for you.l
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