Hindsight's a Bitch: The Clues My Body Gave Me (That Everyone Missed)
- Antonia Kenny
- 1 day ago
- 5 min read
By Antonia@UnremarkableMe— writer, walker/roller of wobbly paths, and reluctant owner of bendy joints
Content warning: This article includes discussion of addiction, mental health struggles, and references to suicide. Please read with care.
There’s a strange kind of magic in hindsight. It doesn’t change the past, but it reveals the truth you couldn’t see while you were living it. And when you grow up with a body that’s quietly falling apart while everyone insists you’re just dramatic, distracted, or not trying hard enough? That hindsight becomes something closer to healing.
I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS)—a connective tissue disorder that, in simple terms, means the stuff that holds my body together is faulty. Collagen is the glue we’re all made of. Mine is more like expired glue stick—fine until pressure hits. It affects my joints, skin, internal organs, and even how my body manages pain. It’s lifelong. It’s genetic. And for most of my life, I thought I was just broken.
So here’s my truth—shared publicly for the first time. These are the things I carried, quietly and painfully, long before I had the language to understand them. This is Hindsight.
Hindsight #1: The High Heel Delusion
Once upon a time—long before diagnoses and medical acronyms—I owned 82 pairs of shoes. Everything from Converse to Jimmy Choos. I still have some very pretty high heels that I’ve never worn. They’re almost like museum pieces now—artifacts from a version of me who was desperate to feel normal, glamorous, effortless.
But I’ve never truly been able to wear heels. My ankles were weak, constantly betraying me. I’d fall, twist, and end up dancing barefoot, smiling through the pain while my stilettos sat abandoned like forgotten promises.
I tore ligaments. I spent nights in A&E. I carried crutches through my teens like accessories. But no one ever asked, "Why does this keep happening?"
Hindsight lesson #1: It wasn’t a fashion fail. It was a warning sign—one I smiled through because I didn’t feel allowed to stop.
Hindsight #2: The Race I Didn’t Finish
I was more Sporty Spice than Baby Spice. Tracksuit bottoms, relay batons, and adrenaline rushes. Running made me feel free. Fast. Strong. I even competed for my county once as a young teen. It was one of the few times I felt proud of what my body could do.
Then I dislocated my knee. for the firs time. It was sudden, brutal, and everything changed. My ankles—already unreliable—buckled more often. I stopped trusting my legs. The confidence was gone.
I tried to keep going. Strapped joints, brave faces. But slowly, painfully, I let it go. I let her go—the girl who ran without fear.
Hindsight lesson #2: It wasn’t the fall that ended it—it was the silence around a body already breaking.
Hindsight #3: Horses, Hurt, and Holding On Too Long
My childhood was shaped by horses. My family kept them, and I grew up in the saddle. I learned to muck out stables, clean bridles, and smile through saddle sores. On the surface, it looked like a country girl’s dream.
But I hated riding. It hurt—deep in my hips and lower back. When breaking in young horses, I’d fall off more than I stayed on. Not because I wasn’t trying, but because my joints didn’t have the strength to hold me up.
Instead of concern, I got labels: lazy, dramatic, moody. If I sat down for too long, I was met with glares or guilt. And so I worked harder. Carried pain like it was my fault.
The day I walked away from that world was quiet. No fanfare. Just relief.
Hindsight lesson #3: It wasn’t laziness—it was a body begging for rest in a life that never gave it.
Hindsight #4: My Best Party Trick Was a Red Flag
I was the bendy kid. Quiet, shy, and always a little different—but bendy. I could drop into the splits without warming up, hook my legs behind my head, and press my thumb flat to my forearm like it was made of elastic. I didn’t show off often, but when I did, people would say things like "that’s so cool" or "you’re double-jointed."
And I believed them. I thought it made me unique, maybe even lucky.
But no one ever said it might be a clue. That this kind of flexibility wasn’t just unusual—it was medical. That the same joints that seemed impressive would also dislocate in my sleep, ache endlessly, and leave me tired from simply holding myself together.
I didn’t know I was stretching beyond what was safe. I didn’t know I was injuring myself in quiet, invisible ways.
So I kept bending—thinking it was harmless, when really, it was my body’s first whisper for help.
Hindsight lesson #4: What looked like a talent was really a sign I needed someone to notice.
Hindsight #5: Dancing Through the Pain
By thirteen, I was already hiding pain. I had no words for what my body was doing, only the deep, endless ache of it. When I found nightclubs—real ones, not the teen raves—I found escape. Under the strobes and with a drink in hand, the pain dulled. I could dance. I could forget.
By sixteen, I had a problem. Cocaine and alcohol weren’t just vices—they were lifelines. By nineteen, I was broken in more ways than I knew how to count. I self-destructed. I hurt people. I tried to end it all more than once.
I carried shame like it was stitched into my skin. For the addictions. The choices. The wreckage. And I blamed myself for the dislocations, the fatigue, the injuries.
Only later—much later—did I understand: the pain came first. The spiral started with a body that never stopped hurting.
Hindsight lesson #5: I wasn’t self-destructive—I was surviving the only way I knew how.
If You’re Struggling with Addiction or Substance Abuse
You are not alone. And you are not beyond help.
Addiction is not a moral failure—it’s often a response to pain, trauma, or a body that’s crying out for something it can’t find elsewhere. If anything in this article resonates with you and you’re struggling with alcohol or substance use, please know that there are people and places ready to help.
Support and Resources:
Narcotics Anonymous UK – Find meetings and community support.
Alcoholics Anonymous UK – Free, confidential help for alcohol dependency.
We Are With You – Support for drug and alcohol issues, available across the UK.
FRANK – Honest advice on drugs and addiction, plus a helpline and text service.
Mind UK – Mental health support for addiction and dual diagnosis.
You don’t have to hit rock bottom to reach out. You deserve help now. You deserve healing. You deserve to feel safe in your own skin.
So What Is EDS, Really?
Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome refers to a group of genetic disorders that affect connective tissue, primarily collagen. The hypermobile type (hEDS)—the most common form—can include symptoms like:
Joint hypermobility
Frequent dislocations and sprains
Chronic pain
Fatigue
Easy bruising
Gastrointestinal issues
Autonomic dysfunction (like POTS)
It’s often misdiagnosed or missed entirely—especially in women, teens, and those whose pain is dismissed as anxiety, clumsiness, or hormonal drama.
Resources for learning more or seeking support:
Why This Story Matters
Because I never got to be the girl who knew her own body. I was the girl who thought she was weak, broken, dramatic. And no one corrected me.
This is for anyone who’s still in that space—masking pain, blaming themselves, wondering why they can’t keep up.
You are not lazy. You are not weak. You are not imagining it.
You are living in a body that deserves understanding, care, and respect.
You deserve to be believed the first time. You deserve answers that don’t come years too late. You deserve a life shaped by truth, not shame.
And if you’re still looking for that truth—keep going. It’s there. You’ll find it.
Because we don’t just survive these stories—we rewrite them.
Stay bendy, stay kind—and if your body feels like a haunted house, don’t let anyone convince you it’s just in your head. It might be calling out for a name. And that name might just change everything.
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