Back from the Brink
We all face difficult times – but after hitting rock bottom, these three women needed huge reserves of courage to find a way back to happiness…
Martine Wright,
46, is an author and motivational speaker, and plays sitting volleyball for team gB. She lives in tring, hertfordshire, with husband nick, 46, and their son Oscar, nine.
a year after the 7/7 bombings, I left hospital with two prosthetic legs. I had healed physically, but the psychological battle continued. so much I’d once taken for granted was gone. staying with my mum, all I wanted was to walk out the door and return to my own flat, my independence and my life before the bomb. but that life was over. I had to find out who I was going to be now.
before 7 July 2005, I was an international marketing manager. I’d been with Nick for two years and loved being a londoner – never more so than the day when it was announced we had won the bid to host the 2012 olympics and Paralympics. the next morning I hit the snooze button, giving myself an extra 10 minutes in bed. I left home in a hurry and headed to work.
When I saw there was a signal failure on the Northern line, I took the Circle line instead. I boarded a train just as the doors were closing, felt pleased to get a seat, then opened my newspaper to read about the olympics. I vowed to get tickets.
at 8.49am, my life changed forever. there was a prolonged flash and the carriage filled with smoke. I thought we’d crashed. People were screaming and as the smoke began to clear, I saw a shoe impaled on the ceiling. It was my white trainer, covered in blood. My foot was still inside. I couldn’t move. the metalwork of the carriage had entwined my legs.
an off-duty policewoman, liz Kenworthy, arrived at my side. she found a belt and instructed me to use it as a tourniquet. I was rapidly losing blood and liz undoubtedly saved my life. I was the last person to be rescued and liz stayed with me until the fire brigade cut me free. I was taken to the Royal london Hospital and put in an induced coma.
It took my family two days to find me and I can’t imagine what they went through. When I woke up eight days later, the intensive care nurse told me I’d lost both legs. I lifted my head and looked down. My body was there, but then the blanket dropped away to nothing.
a month on, I saw a newspaper cover with photographs of the 52 people killed in the bombings. I’d had no idea people had died until that moment. I’d lost my legs but I was lucky. I survived.
later, I moved to the rehabilitation ward at Queen Mary’s, Roehampton. My physiotherapist, Maggie, taught me to walk on prosthetics and I slowly adapted. When I left rehab, the outside world seemed scary. but I decided I could either focus on all the things I could no longer do – or I could choose to make new memories. so I went to south africa for three months and learned to fly a plane.
Nick and I married in July 2008. liz, Maggie and other people I’d never have even met if it were not for what happened, were all there.
oscar was born in July the following year and when he was three months old, I discovered sitting volleyball. six months later, it was announced they were putting together a team for the Paralympics. It meant intensive training, but I was selected to represent team Gb. seven years after the bombings, I was honoured to return to london as an athlete. Entering ExCel london for my first game, I was overcome by tears. It wasn’t just me who’d reached that moment. We were reclaiming london and our lives. I wouldn’t be where I am now without my family, friends, fellow patients I met in hospital, my volleyball teammates, the emergency services and medics who saved my life – and liz, my guardian angel. and the 52 people who died that day. they lost their lives, and will always be a part of mine.
I’ve realised everyone goes through one challenge or another. It’s not what happens, it’s how you deal with it that really matters.
✢ Martine’s book unbroken is available on Amazon now. It won Sports Autobiography of the Year 2018
‘the intensive care nurse told me i’d lost both legs’ “i survived the 7/7 london BomBings”
Emma Goodwin, 44, is the founder of Real Life Yoga, bringing yoga to offices and schools around wiltshire. She also runs workshops in improving work/ life balance. Emma lives with husband Scott, 53, and their children, north, 15, Eli, 13, and Gabriel, nine.
In the months leading up to my breakdown, I couldn’t switch off. adrenaline, fuelled by coffee, left me with an anxious fear of slowing down. I was successful in my account management job, but this only fuelled my desire to prove myself. I skipped lunch, cancelled on friends and stayed late. I couldn’t see that my drive for perfection was not only making me ill, but having a detrimental effect on my marriage to scott, and our children.
after moving to Wiltshire, the long london commute meant I spent even more time scrolling through hundreds of emails on my blackberry. scott and I hired a nanny, and I would go days without even seeing the children. When I was home, I created a manic atmosphere – shouting, rushing and arguing, I had the ability to upset everyone before we’d even had breakfast.
In 2011, I took on a big project that meant prestige – but pressure too. I would promise the kids I would meet them at the school gates, but I never made it, and they’d get upset. My catchphrase seemed to be “in a minute”, waving them away as I prioritised emails even on holiday.
by the summer of 2013, my perfectionist behaviour was taking its toll. My managing director asked me why I was always last in the office and warned me not to put work before family. For months, I’d felt increasingly irrational, paranoid and frazzled – scared scott would leave, that I’d lose my job, and that my kids didn’t like me. then one July day, I was at my desk when I began to cry. My heart raced, my vision blurred and my thoughts became muddled – I was having a panic attack. that evening, scott and I argued and slept in separate beds. In the morning, he urged me to see our GP, who referred me to the Priory. I thought I’d be there a few hours – but they wouldn’t let me leave. the bright lights hurt my eyes, I was rocking back and forth. as scott was instructed to walk away, I banged on the window, begging him to come back.
I spent the first few weeks determined to be the best patient they’d ever had, but things were more serious than I dared to admit. I was diagnosed with mixed anxiety and depressive disorders with severe perfectionist behaviour. I was prescribed antidepressants, and anti-stress and anti-anxiety pills. I had daily therapy and spent time sitting in the garden, thinking. I realised I was addicted to the buzz of being a high-flyer. I was driven by my salary and attached to material things.
I had never been able to read a book, watch tV or do anything close to relaxing because I couldn’t keep still. In rehab, yoga taught me the joy of stillness. after a month, I was allowed a visit from the children, but Gabriel cried and didn’t want to cuddle me. In my quest to be the best at my job, I’d screwed up parenthood. I vowed to spend the rest of my life making amends.
It felt strange to go home after two months. When I told the children I’d be at the school gates, I was. I continued therapy, alone and with scott and the children. I became more communicative and less frantic. Home became a happy place where we laughed and made memories. My phone no longer pinged with 100 emails an hour and sometimes that felt unnerving but whenever I yearned for a faster pace, I reminded myself where that led. at the end of 2014, I qualified as a yoga teacher. It doesn’t matter if it’s yoga, meditation or just a few minutes doing nothing at all – we live in such a noisy world, so a moment of calm is vital. I even love a good Netflix show now, and the novelty of relaxing will never wear off. It took years to figure out who I was, if I wasn’t a career woman, but I’d go through it all again to get here. scott and I are stronger than ever. When I’m at the school gates and the kids run towards me, I am so overwhelmed by love and gratitude. I can’t believe I missed out on that feeling for so long. ✢ Visit reallifeyoga.co.uk >>
‘I wasn’t allowed to see my children for a month’ “MY BREAKDOWN CHANGED MY LIFE”
SARAH ASHLEY, 56, is a retired midwife. She lives in East Sussex with husband Julian, 56. As well as Nicholas, who passed away aged 36, the couple have two daughters, Rebecca, 34, and Bethan, 26, and three grandchildren.
they say you never get over the death of your child, you just learn to live with the grief. although Julian and I had come to realise that Nicholas would probably die before us as a result of what happened when he was a teenager, I cry every day thinking about my amazing, funny, kind son.
Julian and I met at primary school, when we were seven. ten years later we got together and although we headed to different universities, our relationship remained strong. I put my studies on hold when Nicholas came along. He was cheeky and mischievous, always ready with a ridiculous joke, the type that had the whole family groaning.
after his GCsEs Nicholas enrolled at sixth form college, hoping to become a paramedic. In his first week of college, he contracted a virus that left him fighting for his life in hospital. before doctors knew what was wrong, he fell into status epilepticus, a dangerous condition in which epileptic fits occur in succession without recovery of consciousness. He was put on a ventilator, and his temperature was uncontrollably high. His symptoms added up to encephalitis, a rare but serious inflammation of the brain caused by an infection from the virus. He was left with severe brain damage.
Nicholas had to learn to walk, talk, eat, read and live all over again. He became a perpetual teenager in his thoughts and actions. His memory was muddled and he’d create false memories. but one thing he could remember was who he was before. He watched as his sisters surpassed him academically, going on to university. He was proud of them, but a little bit envious too.
He had infrequent and short periods of reasonable health, and it was during these precious breaks that he passed his driving and motorbike test, both first time. He loved going for a ride with Julian, but it required so much concentration it would leave him bed-bound for days.
He struggled with his mental health. He had epilepsy, migraines, high blood pressure and stomach ulcers, and he was often exhausted. as the years went on, every organ in his body was compromised, leading to diabetes, cataracts, tinnitus, partial deafness and poor mobility.
We tried to give Nicholas a semblance of the independence he longed for. We bought a house in East sussex, adapting it so he could have his own space. In the last three years his needs became too great and he moved into a purpose-built flat with on-site carers.
In the last year, Nicholas’s health deteriorated further. He was hospitalised eight times and told us he didn’t want to live like this. It broke our hearts.
then, last July, Nicholas was found by his care staff at 8am, having passed away in the night. a post-mortem revealed that his death was caused by a complication of diabetes. He had always been the central focus for our entire family and after he died, we felt bereft and incomplete.
I’m sad for Nicholas because he did not get to live the life he deserved, but I cherish the happy memories we did make. the two trips to Disney World, queuing for over an hour so Nicholas could ride at the front of the fastest roller coasters. the moment during Rebecca’s wedding in July 2016, when Nicholas was captured laughing during Julian’s speech. It’s our most treasured photograph, alongside the last photo of the five of us.
I retired from midwifery in april, so I suddenly have a lot of time. I take it hour by hour because that’s all I can do. Julian and I haven’t had much quality time over the past two decades, so when we are feeling stronger we’ll plan a trip away.
Nicholas will be remembered as a compassionate and generous man with a heart of gold. although it feels like part of my heart is missing, we will find our new normal. Nicholas is forever in the forefront of our thoughts. We will always be a family of five. w&h
‘it feels like part of my heart is missing’ “i lost my grown-up child”