It all began on the 20th of December 2016, the day of my dads Birthday. l had no idea I would steal his spotlight.

I went to bed that night after our meal out, but for whatever reason I could not sleep. Although that reason soon appeared clear. The reason being intense pain.

Now, having issues with my stomach was nothing new to me. I was that person who didn’t want to ever get it checked out by a doctor because I was scared of what they may find- to be quite honest I had convinced myself I had dealt with it for so long it seemed to late to get help.

Although this night seemed very different to the usual pains I’d get because this time I wasn’t able to stand up straight, I was in agony and full of tears. I was hunched over and dragged myself to the bathroom at maybe 2am to run myself a hot bath to help with the pain as Google advised.

The pain remained, my sister continued to check up on me as I was slumped there crying nonstop.

The next morning I asked my dad to bring me to the hospital, that’s when deep down I knew something was wrong, and to be honest so did my father and sister.

I sat in the walk in centre for hours waiting to be seen, whilst being sick and I could barely string a sentence together.

I was passed around from doctor to doctor. I was kept overnight as the doctors wanted to do an ultrasound in the morning, as they believed it could have been trapped blood from my period.

My dad assisted me to the room, whilst I was in the wheelchair, and accidentally crashed me into every wall on the way, ouch.

I was dosed up on pain killers all night, and my cannula had leaked all over my bed, which meant I woke up to a scene from Jaws.

I was half naked when a group of doctors came to visit, of course what perfect timing. They handed me a document stating if I needed major surgery I have given my consent for them to do so. I was clueless to how all of this worked, as I was signing the documents I ask the doctors “so if I was to have major surgery could I go home tomorrow”, he thought I was joking, awkward.

Just as I was about to go to theatre to investigate ‘the trapped blood’ my dad was going crazy, he was a wreck, all I can remember is waking up to a doctor telling me that I had to have major surgery, to which my massively drugged up self replied “yeah I know.”

According to my sister they had been waiting at the hospital for nine hours which no information all that they knew was “there was complications.”

Now the reason for the major surgery was because I had a perforated bowel, in other words my bowel had a hole in it and that is life threatening as the contents in my bowel were leaking into my body. So they had removed that part of the bowel, which had the hole in it. At this point I didn’t know what had caused this as tests needed to be done.

I spent around a week in hospital after this recovering.

The first day I was on a different planet, my closest a friends came to visit with cards and presents followed by some more of my family.

I was very thankful for the support by all my loved ones and best friends, as it did prove to me who is really there for me during my absolute time of need, and I know I will always do the same for them.

I will never forget how truly amazing they all are, especially my dad and sister who were my absolute rocks throughout it all and have continued to be till this day.

The following days I had to practice walking, which was mind blowing to me as a couple days before I was walking, and talking like normal. Now I can’t even sit up by myself, as I now have a gaping hole in my stomach and two more hole with tubes coming out draining my insides.

It was hard recovering. I was in a severe amount of pain, however, I pushed myself everyday to walk around the hospital for an hour to help myself get back to normal.

Although I was puzzled one day when the customers in Costa were throwing me weird looks, but then again it became clear when I realised the clear tubes attached to my stomach draining me were pinned to my gown bouncing around, as I passed them having a snack, so I can it was pretty off putting.

It was the day before Christmas was the first time I saw my stomach after the surgery, it was scary, the wound stretched from the bottom of my stomach, passed my belly button and held together by staples.

I broke down because of the appearance at first sight, I couldn’t believe how traumatic it looked but I remembered to keep strong.

Christmas Day was probably one I would never forget, first of all I was greeted by one of the nurses, whilst I was hanging off my bed upside down in an attempt to get up by myself to use the toilet.

I was given a present from the hospital labelled ‘to an OAP’ so I wasn’t too surprised when I opened up my new Magnify glass and a calculator but none the less I appreciated it!

Later that morning I was seen by the group of surgeons, little did I know of the free spa treatment I was about to receive too.

One of the surgeons instructed one of the doctors to remove my dressings on my stomach and of course he had to be the good looking one why wouldn’t he?

Hear me out, I’ve been stuck in this hospital bed so I’m not able to groom myself like I usually would.

The good looking doctor had the pleasure of pulling away the dressings starting from the top, he then looks up and apologises as he rips off the bottom, I look down and he’s left me a landing strip. I was mortified.

Later on that day my dad and sister visited, a doctor came over and apologised as he accidentally wrote ‘end of life’ on my chart. Honestly I knew I was looking rough but I didnt know I looked that bad. Things never got boring in that place.

After that things were looking up, I was able to return home, but I spent most days stuck in bed because I hadn’t full regained my strength.

I was still waiting to go for my first ever toilet, as my insides were trying to function as normal and when I did my dad and sister cheered me on outside the toilet door, which we all agree after that was weird.

I’ll be honest mine and mothers relationship was practically non existent, life at home was great with my sister and dad we had unconditional love and support for each other, however my mum wasn’t the same, it was completely the opposite, which is why I never wanted her to visit me at the hospital.


Some of her comments in the past made it seem difficult to have her there in my time of need. So funnily enough the recovering didn’t seem all that hard anymore when I mentally had to deal with my mum and her remarks about me faking it all.

I had the scars to prove it, my dad and sister experienced it but it was never good enough.

Fast forward to my first appointment with my local doctor, I will never forget it, I had a list of questions to ask to, which the doctor declined answering most, but wonderfully offered to answer one or two.

I was livid, I had no idea what was going on, I was told I was unable to travel anymore, which was all I was working towards, but then she dropped the bombshell when she explained the results from the piece of bowel that was tested “okay so you’ve got traces of Crohn’s disease.”

I forced myself to walk home from the doctors as my walking was getting quite better. I rang my dad and broke down as did he, as we thought everything was put behind us, I thought I just needed my wound to heal and everything’s good.

My mum found out the news. She took it upon herself to ring her closest friends, and tell them I lied about everything, I was being dramatic about everything. She said I was pretending because I was craving attention.

I was disgusted how someone could go that low after how mentally broken I was.

She continued to pretend to be the number one mum on Facebook, in front of our family and friends. It was all a show.

This was the wake up call. I needed to be strong. I needed to get better, be strong, go back to work and earn money to travel.

28th June I returned to the specialist for a follow up appointment, it was full of surprises.

The doctors finger done a bit of investigating up my back passage which was a bit awkward, as my dad and sister were on the other side of the curtain, laughing.

My luck was not over! He told me I was now Crohns free after months of monitoring me.

The traces were only in the piece of bowel that was removed, and as my wound was fully healed I was given the ok to travel. I was on such a high!

Side note – that same specialist came into my workplace to buy some lunch. It was slightly awkward… How do you greet someone who had their finger up your bum after five minutes of conversation, he asked me how I was doing, I didn’t know whether to start telling him about my bowel movements or just stick with the simple “I’m really good, thank you”, as he was about to eat I went with the second option.

July 26th 2017 I made my way to London City airport with my sister, and our one way ticket to Bangkok. It was time to live my dream. Our dad saw us off and he was unbelievably proud of the both of us from how far we had come.

I am forever thankful to them both, they both were incredibly strong and without them I wouldn’t be where I am today.

That leads me onto today, my wound is completely healed, and my scar now represents how strong I’ve been.

I’m now living my best life with the people I love because I’ve learnt life is too short, so you have to follow your dreams no matter how big they are!

Christmas 2016 was spent in hospital where everything seemed impossible.

Christmas 2017 was spent with my dad coming to visit us on our favourite island, Gili T with all of our new friends having the absolute time of our lives.

I still connect and adore my family and best friends in England and those who I have met along the way.

I have also left the negative people behind, as those who proved they weren’t there for me during my time of need don’t deserve to have me during the best time of my life.

This is also a piece of mind for anyone who is going through anything similar because things do get better as anything is possible.

I also want to stress to anyone, if something in your body doesn’t feel right please do not ignore it and get help.

I ignored my issues for four years. I had blood in my stool and I chose to ignore it because I was scared, my doctor told me if I had come much sooner there would be no need for major surgery, and risk nearly losing my life.

I have learnt my lesson and I want to encourage anyone to go to a real doctor rather than google to at least get a piece of mind.



Creepy man staring into my room when I was half naked.


I recently made this video explaining an unpleasant personal experience. This is my first ever time filming myself, so do enjoy the dodgy angles and interesting quality (I am also travelling, so any equipment is very limited haha)

Although despite the technical difficulties. I thought it was important to share this.

I have had my fair share of unwanted attention in the past, and most of it was nothing too concerning, but this was the first time I felt violated. I have never dealt with anyone invading my privacy to this level before. Therefore I explained how I felt about the situation, and my reaction.

I really hope me speaking about this is able to help someone. Nobody deserves to be mistreated on any level. I understand everyone has different experiences, but I think talking about it is important.

You don’t need to make a video, but speak to a family member, friend or whoever you can trust.

Too many times I have let things slide, and it boils up inside of me, or sometimes I’ve just seen it as “normal”, but that’s so wrong.

We as people are not objects. Be yourself. Don’t let anyone else’s actions change you. Do you. You’re not at fault because of someone else’s stupidity.


Rach xx

“I wouldn’t let my dog fuck you anyway” – a drunk guy I rejected

I love getting ready for a night out. The joys of having absolutely nothing to wear, the makeup mental breakdown and the half arsed sacred shave job.

Once I’ve put on my final fifth layer of foundation, and made sure I smell like a brothel. I’m feeling fabulous and all set to go!

Usually one drink will be just enough to trigger one of my many drunken personas:

•The Malibu barbie as my sister calls it- out of control party prin ready for a riot.

•Reckless Rach who doesn’t always make an appearance, but when she does she can be found falling down stairs or on BBC News.

•Over emotional beyond help girl. Mainly spend time crying to a group of people about cats.

•Or forgetful Rach- wait, what?

Once I’ve finished deciding which persona will make a star appearance I then drink up, and convince myself I’m Beyoncé on the dance floor. Although in reality it’s more like a dad at a disco.

Throughout the night some interesting characters crawl out of the woodworks. Mostly men who you’re sure you recognise from Watch Dog.

One night out I was lucky enough to have a pleasant young man approach me. I was sat there feeling a little worse for wear, but we chatted anyway.

He told me his friend wanted to say hello. I asked who his friend was. He eagerly pointed him out in the crowd. There he stood, a giant gormless goblin. I turned to my sister and we stared at each other for a good five seconds or so, in complete silence.

His friend remained in the crowd. Although he did not break the immense stare. He must of glued his eyes open, and I’m fairly sure the original guy must of assisted applying the glue because he stuck around us for too long.

Conversation crumbled. Spacial awareness was now a thing of the past at this point. This guy was not taking any hints. God knows where goblin had scurried off to either!

“Come back to my place” he asked or demanded. I’m not too sure..

I politely declined his offer. He wasn’t too disheartened by my response, as he wasted no time and moved straight on to my sister.

The charm was unbearable. It was really flattering how he could bounce to someone else within seconds. It was as if he had a pogo stick rammed up his arse.

He was acting like a troll, so my sister also politely refused his offer to head back to under his bridge.

This guy went from troll to Trump. An absolute wanker in the making. His ego was so bruised, and apparently his brain affected too, as he then stated.

(Brace yourself…)

“I wouldn’t let my dog fuck you anyway!”

Oh my good god! His dog? What? Why? Where? When? Surely this guy shouldn’t be allowed to own a dog? Why was he referring to his dog in a sexual manner? Therefore he must commit sexual acts with his dog to deny me from such a thing!

Now at this given moment I had a few different options to respond with:

A) Slap some sense into him
B) Throw my watered down drink in his face
C) Laugh in his face

I can confirm I went with C, as much as all of the above sounded so mouthwatering tempting, but I figured this guy wasn’t worth my upper lip getting sweaty from the rage.

Although I must admit he did stun the shit out of me, and therefore my reply was nearly as tragic.

“Piss off you tarantula” I warned him.

I’m still not sure where my creative response sprung from. I was a little embarrassed, but slightly impressed. I’m guessing it had something to do with him being so creepy, and I just wanted him to crawl off or get stood on.

Soon after that the night then drew to a close, and unfortunately I was unsuccessful of finding a guy, who thought I was worthy enough of his dog humping my leg.

Lucky for me I’m not really a dog person anyway💁🏻

End of 2017: a letter to my crazy self


Hey girl,

How about that 2017? Am I right?

You deserve a gold star for some of the shit that was thrown at you this year (including: the literal shit you fell in @ the elephant rescue sanctuary in Chiang Mai or the massive pile of horse shit that splattered up your leg in Gili T & all the locals pointed and laughed at you)

Anyway, enough of that crap!

I just wanted to say well done hunny! You gave your everything this year. You really tried to make yourself & others happy too. Maybe a little bit too much at times, like drunkenly kissing the 50+ y/o guy with tongues for a photo to make your sister laugh, but a part from crippling your dignity, you still went above and beyond to make those you love laugh. Note to self – no more licking dentures.

Despite the shining you took to OAPs, you started to like yourself more. This year you gave yourself a little more self love, and that’s beautiful. No more being ashamed of your insecurities. You even tried to impress a guy by telling him you could grow a moustache quicker than him. It’s cute he thought you were joking. Them pesky whiskers that you were so embarrassed about for years. Although maybe stop mentioning your unwanted facial hair when trying to flirt.

There were times this year when pieces of your puzzle got messed up, broken, set on fire and then sucked into a black hole, but you just kept on going. Yeah, you might of tripped up a couple of times, but I blame the dodgy Primark shoes.

You worked hard to get where you are now. Even if that meant 8 hours a day for months, being told to stop chatting and to do some work in M&S.

You never gave up on your dream to continue travelling the world. You were unstoppable (when chatting too much at work) You went through highs and lows, but you grabbed them, dealt with them, and left on a plane to your new life.

Never stop living for the moment. Be too loud. Let people think you’re crazy. It suits you. Stroke every cat and dog (with caution because you have not had your rabies shot) Carry on growing and enjoying the moments you’re creating for yourself. Live for you and the people you love. Maybe just brush your hair more.

Most importantly, you done your best this year.

The confidence looks great on you. Keep it up. Keep slayin’


Rach x

Testicles & Tears

Like the return of the almighty Mayweather. I bounced back into the ring. This time I was to be undefeated. There was no way I was that unlucky to meet another weirdo. I wasn’t cursed! Or was I?

After brushing off the trauma of my previous date. I had restored my faith in humanity, and convinced myself not every boy was sex crazed, with dog characteristics, nor barking mad..

With my new found confidence. I reinstalled my trusty Tinder app. I began vigorously scrolling through, but this time with complete caution.

Sam* the guy who was to be different from the others. His chat just a little dry, but I wasn’t picking up on any danger signs. My instincts had given me the go ahead, so we took it to the next level, WhatsApp. A big commitment in the world of Tinder.

I began to learn his hobbies included things such as hiking. Although my idea of hiking involves having to walk into McDonalds instead of using the drive-thru.

Despite the extreme polar opposite interests. We agreed to meet. Once again he seemed normal. What was the worst that could happen, etc etc.

This time it was arranged to meet in my home town for drinks. I was more aware of escape routes if necessary.

My dad dropped me off. Not really arriving in style, but nobody was to know.

I spotted Sam* from a distance, and I began to walk towards him, but I couldn’t help notice my Dad still parked up. Unsure whether he was planning on introducing himself, I carried on.

Thankfully there was no three way hug, and me and Sam* hit the bar for cheap and cheerful cocktails.

He was tall, dark and better than his photos. Things were already looking up, especially me, being 5 ft 3.

Happy hour turned into rush hour, as I downed every drink. I needed that quick Beyoncé like confidence to power through, which was only achievable through alcohol.

Conversation involved my cats and their complex relationship, and his future goals and dreams, but as interesting as they were, my drunken eyes kept drifting towards his nachos.

Every time he went to the bar or toilet a small fraction of nachos mysteriously disappeared. I was finding the beautiful tortilla chips smothered in cheese more irresistible than him. I soon called it a night. I just wasn’t satisfied, but at least my stomach was.

There was still some texting back and forth, but I still didn’t fancy him, as much as his dinner. Therefore I politely addressed that, and I thought that would be it.

14 unread texts, 8 snapchats and 3 missed calls later.

Of course! Why would he even be the slightest bit sane? I asked the universe, as at this point, this shit was beyond me!

10 more continuous texts.. begging me to come visit his cats, which was evil, as he was using my weakness against me. Then the manic sad selfie session on snapchat.

I was stunned by his breakdown. Britney had held her shit together better back in ’07.

Despite being overwhelmed I continued to be sweet, but stern, and that backfired.

Sam* had gone from Britney to Kanye West on the crazy scale.

He was demanding to see me one last time, to play with my hair and kiss me goodbye. Before sick had the chance to surface my phone screen. I chose to ignore him.

It didn’t end there! Sam* told me how I owed him his last requests, and how he deserved better.

At this point I seriously had to question whether we were married in another life, or we just met for 2 hours, as I recall.

My sweetness soon turned sour. I simply told him where to go, as his final striking attempt to change my mind was a snap of him completely naked.

In a way I admired his determination, but for some reason a wide shot of his saggy balls didn’t tempt me.

Sadly, that was the end of me and Sam*, but thankfully I’m a hopeful person, and good things come in three.

Tinder date #3


Doggy behaviour from my sex slave

I will never forgive my wild imagination for this particular sin it committed. It all started with very tame sex dreams about older co-workers. I’m not sure whether these dreams could quite possibly qualify as erotic, maybe more 50 shades Halloween edition. Soft porn nightmares let’s say.

It was at this point I realised my unconscious mind was yelling at me to indulge in the opposite sex. Before my nightmare became a gruesome reality.

It was time to throw myself back into the so called game. The hideous world of dating in 2017. I didn’t do this half hearted either. Tinder was my shameless saviour. I couldn’t quite possibly approach someone in real life. I would now rely on the strength of my trusty thumbs.

I thrived on my endearing non-charming ways, which I consider kind of cutesy charming. Bad jokes, inappropriate stories and remarks. I was the whole package, but the kind you wanted to return.

Scrolling through my tinder matches was like rummaging threw a Primark sale. Some hidden treasures, but mostly rubbish, and by rubbish I’m referring to some of the stuff these heartbreakers would litter my inbox with.

For some strange reason my heart didn’t quite melt at the request of nudes, nor the invitations of dick pics. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I could have settled with an old fashioned hello.

Despite the never ending disappointment. I was addicted. This app was the crack to my ego. Overwhelming at times, as the pressure to check in with my online love affairs proved demanding. I couldn’t bare the heartache of loosing Jon, 25, from Watford, after our exchange of GIFS.

It was just before I was considering joining a Tinder anonymous group I received a message from *Luke.

I was wooed by his lack of repulsiveness. He even went as far as asking how my day was before questioning my bra size. He was to be my knight in shining armour. The one to sweep me off my feet, and straight into Nando’s.

He seemed so… Normal?! Surely this was too good to be true? I asked myself.

Before I knew it I was on the train to meet the mystery man. Accompanied by my two dear friends, Gin and Tonic. They settled my nerves and convinced me this was an amazing idea.

I had arrived at our agreed location. I made sure it was somewhere very public, as killer clowns were a current trend, so safety first.

I spent a short while trying to match a face in the crowd to his blurry pictures. It didn’t take too long until I spotted him, and little did I know what the near future had in store for me.

Now an awkward hug or kiss on the cheek was the most I anticipated, but maybe my expectations were too low. Instead, I was greeted with an overly generous wet kiss on the mouth. With his tongue trying to poke through my tightly closed lips. It was like an over excited puppy drooling all over my face. Luckily his excitement didn’t go as far as peeing on the floor, but close enough.

Despite licking off the last of my carefully crafted makeup. I gave him a chance. I was about to learn that being kind hearted isn’t always such a good thing.

His saliva wasn’t the only trick up his sleeve. I still wonder whether he regretted the lizard lick, and question whether he thought his next surprise would work as a backup plan.

“I have a boner” he proudly announced.

There was no way in hell I thought he was actually being serious, and being me, I awkwardly laughed it off, as we continued our walk to the bar.

Normal conversation arose over a few drinks, and this regained my hope into thinking he wasn’t completely insane. Little did I know how wrong I was.

For some reason he transformed back into a dog, as he thought it was acceptable to nibble on my ear. Why he thought this was a good idea I will never know. Unless he was ravished and thought my poor innocent ear looked extremely appetising.

I immediately told him to stop. At this point I didn’t know whether to tell him to sit, and reward him with a treat or not.

The best was still yet to come. The dog like behaviour all of a sudden seemed normal, as the next sentence to leave his mouth was to be the grand finale.

“Can I be your sex slave?” he asked with an uncomfortable stare into my soul.

All of a sudden I didn’t feel weird about my fuzzy filthy co-worker dreams.

Without giving myself time to ponder on his magnificent proposal. I was quick to leave. I needed to jump onto the fastest train, which would take me the furthest away from my everlasting memory of *Luke.

Unfortunately, the love story ended there, but I wish *Luke all the best in fulfilling his dream as a sex slave.



I wish you had cheated instead

I remember when we first met. Where else better than the other side of the world?

You were shy. I was not. I didn’t really remember your name, and I thought your friend was good looking.

Minutes, hours and days had past. I grew obsessed with your presence. You forever left me aching from raw laughter, and my face sore from a stupid smile.

The days became months. This obsession with you being around spiralled. I started to miss seeing your face when it had disappeared, even just for a short while.

Then it clicked – I was falling for my best friend.

I was too shy to admit it. Telling you wasn’t an option. Until one night I drank a bottle of confidence, and the words spilled out my mouth.

Our journey began from there. It wasn’t normal. It was intense. Although when travelling it’s all or sweet nothing, and we dived into it all head first. It was bound to hurt.

Always by each others side we had no choice but to fall in love. Neither of us had ever felt this way, but the feeling wouldn’t budge.

There were no limits between us. We were vulnerable, as we witnessed our most beautiful and ugliest moments, but we stayed protected by our bubble.

We continued with the magic we had created. We met each others families and visited each others homes. Everything was becoming stronger, but the distance had gained a new strength.

Email after email, phone call after phone call. We still made it work. There was never a minute were my mind would drift away from you.

I remember the big plans we made. Travel the world, and figure out everything afterwards. Even on that horrible day we still discussed our dream filled plans.

It was the day after Valentine’s Day. We were on the phone for ages, but the little conversation made me anxious. It was as if I knew. I forced words out, my voice was shaky and I felt sick. I was sugar coating everything with talk of our big adventure.

I knew falling in love with you came with a price. We put everything into each other, but you sometimes had a void. It wasn’t your fault. I never gave up on you. I knew I couldn’t fix you, I never stopped trying, but then I broke.

The minutes to the phone call added up. You said everything I didn’t want to hear. I wanted to be angry at you, but you gave me no reason. You had to end it. You were doing it to protect me. You were scared to drag me down with you.

I would have rather you cheated. I wanted a reason to hate you so I could move on.

For months I kept tricking myself into thinking I was okay with being your friend. It was all a delusion within my mind. I was holding onto your memory too tightly. I had to let go.

It was time to put space and time in between us. I wanted nothing but for you to get better for yourself. Forever, I will I remain your number one fan.

Still now you cross my mind. I wonder how you’re doing, where you are and who you’re with.

Your name will never leave a bitter taste in my mouth. You taught me how to love, and how to let go. You were my favourite lesson, and one day I hope to get my friend back.