Katie's story

“Those early years were full of confusion and frustration”

“At 12, I was experiencing wrist pain regularly, but my doctor was reluctant to give a diagnosis – it’s rare to see De Quervain’s Tenosynovitis in someone so young.

It wasn’t until I was 16 that I was finally diagnosed.

Looking back, those early years were full of confusion and frustration. I knew something wasn’t right, but not having a name for it - or a plan for how to manage it - made it even harder to deal with.”

“I’m stuck in cycle that never really ends”

“The pain just became part of my life. Throughout my teenage years, I was constantly going back and forth between GPs, hospital specialists, physiotherapists, and occupational therapists.

Being a teacher makes it more complicated. It involves writing on whiteboards, carrying materials between classrooms, setting up resources - all of which can aggravate my wrist.

Cold weather is a big trigger for me. As soon as the temperature drops, I feel it in my wrist almost instantly.

After my operation in 2019, I felt like things were finally heading in the right direction. But this year, it feels like I’m back to square one - almost as if the surgery never happened.

While there have been short periods where I’ve felt a bit more in control, they’ve always been temporary - and that unpredictability makes it even harder to manage mentally and emotionally.

It’s easy to feel hopeless or like I’m stuck in a cycle that never really ends. There have been moments where it’s affected my confidence, my motivation, and my sense of independence - especially when I feel like my body is letting me down.”

“I didn’t realise how much it was affecting me mentally”

“Living with chronic pain has been a constant emotional rollercoaster. In the early years, I don’t think I fully processed this - I was just focused on fixing it.

I was 17, preparing for university, yet still needing my mum to wash my hair and cut up my food. The idea of becoming independent while being in so much pain was terrifying.

In the past year, it suddenly dawned on me that I’ve now been living with this condition for 12 out of my 24 years - literally half my life. That realisation was heavy.

I’ve never really been offered support for the mental or emotional side of things, and I think it would have made a huge difference - especially during my teenage years when I was trying to come to terms with this condition while also figuring out who I was.

Chronic pain is more than just physical discomfort - it impacts how you see yourself, your independence, your future. Having someone acknowledge that and offer emotional support could have helped me feel less alone in it all.”

“People assume I’m exaggerating or not doing enough”

“People often assume I have carpal tunnel or repetitive strain injury, and they treat it like it’s something minor or temporary. But this isn’t just a bit of wrist pain I’ve picked up from typing too much - it’s something I’ve been living with for over 12 years.

Because the pain isn’t visible, people assume I’m exaggerating or not doing enough.

That kind of dismissal chips away at your confidence. It makes you second-guess yourself - am I overreacting? Should I be coping better? It’s isolating too, because chronic pain already makes you feel different, and feeling misunderstood on top of that just adds to the mental weight.

“Physio relied on standard exercises – not what works for me”

Katie’s experience with physiotherapy has often felt impersonal.

“Most of the physiotherapy I’ve had has just relied on standard exercises - they’ll talk about what’s worked for other people, but not necessarily what works for me.

If I’d been encouraged to set my own goals or been part of shaping the plan around my actual life, I think I would’ve felt more empowered. It might have helped me feel like I had some control, rather than just being told to push through pain.”

“Helping others feel less invisible”

Katie began sharing her story on Instagram. Her account, @tendonitisjourney, is all about raising awareness.

“I started sharing my story because I was fed up of feeling so alone. I wanted to create a space where people could actually see the reality of living with it - especially the emotional side, not just the physical.

Since starting the Instagram page, I’ve had some really touching messages from others who’ve said things like, “I thought I was the only one,” or “I didn’t realise anyone else got it this bad.” Those moments make it all worth it - knowing I’ve helped someone else feel less invisible, even if just for a moment.

I hope that by continuing to share my story, I can help raise awareness, make others feel less alone, and hopefully push things forward in some small way.”