Katy McGhie’s Story
CFS/ME
“I realised that I had caused this illness with my mind. I hadn’t imagined it into existence, but my motor brain had worn out my poor, hard-working body”
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Chronic stress
Perfectionism
People pleasing
General Fear State
Anxiety
ADHD/Autism masking
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Anxiety
SIBO
IBS
ADHD
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The Lightning Process (to an extent)
Talking therapy
Journalling and writing
Fasting for gut issues and mitochondrial repair
Understanding ADHD and masking
Gratitude and self-love work
Identifying my greatest root fear to tackle livng in a fear state
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10 Years
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The Beginning
Realised illness through post-exercise/work fatigue resembling a cold.
Self-diagnosed CFS/ME through online research.
Background
Hectic, stressful lifestyle as a TV Assistant Producer.
Ignored personal wellbeing and pushed through fatigue.
Experienced two stressful years and recurring sickness.
The Start of an 8-Year Journey to Recovery
Determined to get better through extensive research and trying various treatments (nutritionists, diets, supplements, etc.).
Lacked connection with others suffering from CFS, felt isolated.
The Lightning Process
Immediate positive effect, became functional again.
Mind-body connection emphasised; helped but didn’t address root causes.
Highlighted underlying anxiety.
Talking Therapy
Addressed anxiety, learned emotional labeling and coping techniques.
Continued struggling with anxiety despite functioning better day-to-day.
Experienced a relapse after a year.
1st Relapse
Devastated by relapse, sought help at the Burghwood Clinic.
Doctor's advice about reducing bodily stressors validated personal beliefs.
Family support and personal space facilitated recovery.
2nd Relapse
Relapsed after having a baby, struggled with postpartum depression and body image issues.
Determined to identify root causes and solve the illness puzzle.
Fear and ADHD
Realised lifelong fear and anxiety affected health.
Diagnosed with ADHD, which explained many lifelong challenges.
Anxiety significantly reduced upon understanding ADHD.
Fasting, Writing, SIBO, and Control
Discovered fasting and its benefits for energy levels and SIBO.
Changed careers for a healthier work-life balance.
Daily journaling helped manage anxiety and improve overall well-being.
Almost There
Gradual reintroduction of exercise, cautious pacing.
Continued struggle with fear of failure and overworking.
Health Coaching
Worked with a health coach, David, to address deep-rooted fears and beliefs.
Developed new habits focusing on achievements, gratitude, and self-love.
Significant improvement in energy and outlook.
Recovered
Comprehensive personal transformation necessary for CFS recovery.
Emphasised ongoing maintenance of new habits to prevent relapse.
Grateful for the illness as it led to necessary personal growth and self-understanding.
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David Staunton - The Radical Health Coach
Gabor Mate's Book: When the Body Says No, the Cost of Hidden Stress
The beginning
The first sign that something was wrong was how a simple workout or a long day at work left me feeling like I’d come down with a cold the next day. This strange pattern continued for months before I finally realised it wasn’t just stress or fatigue—I was genuinely unwell.
I’ve always been one to turn to Google, despite the warnings about self-diagnosis. But anyone with a misunderstood chronic illness will understand: sometimes it feels like the only option. This time, my search led to an unexpected moment of clarity. As I pieced together my symptoms, one acronym stood out: CFS/ME. Suddenly, everything made sense.
What next? Surely there’d be treatment options. I went to the doctor, hoping for a plan, only to learn that CFS is a diagnosis of exclusion. They’d first need to rule out countless other conditions. And while I’d heard stories of doctors doubting the reality of this illness, I was lucky. My GP believed me, though they admitted they had few answers to offer.
“There was no way on this earth anything was going to get in the way of me living my life.”
The background
My life was everything you’d expect of a busy 32-year-old working in London as an Assistant Producer for TV: chaotic, high-energy, and packed with ambition. I worked hard, played harder, and never stopped to think about rest or well-being. I was a perfectionist, driven by people-pleasing instincts, always pushing past any exhaustion or illness. Emotions? I could barely label them—I’d just feel a bit ‘off’ and push through, my mind racing at a relentless speed.
It was an exhausting lifestyle, but everyone around me seemed to live the same way. And yet, I knew, deep down, that the past two years had been especially hard—marked by grief, stress, and a few bouts of illness. Still, I didn’t connect these experiences with my health; it didn’t seem possible that stress could have left such a mark. Surely, life stress alone couldn’t have brought me to this point.
One thing was certain: nothing was going to stop me from living my life.
But a year later, my health had only declined, and I felt a deep, simmering anger. Why was this happening to me? I wasn’t doing anything different from anyone else! Then, one day, a friend sat me down and gently told me the truth I hadn’t wanted to hear: I wasn’t going to get better this way. I needed to rest.
That conversation marked the beginning of almost a year away from work. I was mostly bedridden, in and out of relapses, rarely able to leave the house. As a freelancer, I had no sick pay to fall back on. I was incredibly fortunate to have my parents’ support, which, alongside credit cards, allowed me to stay in my shared flat. Without that, I don’t know how I’d have coped.
But the government wasn’t there to help. They deemed me ineligible for any benefits because, as they put it, I could still lift my arms above my head. One of the most crushing moments of my life was hearing that decision over the phone—another voice telling me my illness wasn’t real, another reminder that I was on my own.
For a year, I lay in bed, watching my dreams slip completely out of reach: a career, the success I craved, the life I’d planned, the joy of a family, and the simple warmth of friendship. Each day, a little more faded—freedom, choices, laughter, living.
“It’s not a needle in a haystack, it’s finding light in a black hole and your life depends on it. ”
The start of an 8-year journey to recovery
I wasn’t improving but I was DETERMINED to get better by any means, and I googled and researched constantly. There was lots out there, and lots to try, but nothing that made a difference. The thing is, at the time I believed that this is an illness of multiple origins with multiple solutions. It didn’t feel like finding a needle in a haystack, it felt like finding light in a black hole and your life depends on it. But I was not going to give up. Every relapse could contain clues. Every twinge and pain, every cough and sniffle. I analysed and analysed, and I learnt a hell of a lot. I tried everything under the sun, each time truly believing this new thing would be the answer.
A nutritionist, new diets, probiotics, yoga, bone broth, supplements, stool tests, spit tests, urine tests, blood tests, private clinicians, chlorella, acupuncture, I had thrown out all the Teflon pans, cleared the house of chemicals….
But despite my background in research and tracking down people for a living, I’d never spoken to anyone else who had this illness. There weren’t many options for that, and it was a painfully isolating experience.
Until one day a friend put me in touch with a friend of theirs who has recovered from CFS. RECOVERED? I hadn’t heard of that anywhere in my searches (unless it was someone trying to make money out of people with pacing - which was never for me, very defeatist in language).
What followed was a phone call that changed everything for me. An energised, positive woman told me her story of recovery after having to take years out of her career. She had been an overachieving, people-pleasing, stressed-out, perfectionist like me. She mentioned this was a common theme with the people she had met with CFS. But now she was better. It was all possible. She told me about the Lightning Process. I hadn’t come across it, and I was thrilled to learn about something new to try. She was adamant it would work.
The very next day, I finally got a referral to the CFS unit at my local hospital. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to pay for the Lightning Process after all…
I remember sitting in the waiting room, looking around and realising, ‘I don’t identify with a single person here.’ The room felt heavy with sadness, and there was little trace of hope in anyone’s eyes. It was an incredibly sombre space.
When I finally saw the specialist, he explained, almost apologetically, that slightly elevated creatinine levels in my kidneys might mean they couldn’t yet give me the CFS diagnosis I was hoping for. They’d need to rule out other causes first. I knew I couldn’t handle more tests, more waiting.
When I mentioned the Lightning Process, he looked at me blankly—he’d never heard of it. Here was someone whose entire career was dedicated to CFS, and yet this approach was completely unfamiliar to him. I realised then and there: this wasn’t the place for me.
“The Lightning Process worked straight away. No exaggeration… it was immediate.”
The Lightning Process
The Lightning Process worked straight away.
No exaggeration… it was immediate.
I was by no means completely fixed, but it made me functional and better and better each time I did the process. It was work, but I would say after a few weeks I was back to my life.
I remember so clearly hanging up my washing on the clothes rack in my kitchen, chatting to my friend who had come to visit and telling her that that was it - I was CFS-free. It was a miracle.
In essence, the LP teaches you to think yourself better. The mind-body connection is something every person with a long-term illness needs to learn about. I haven’t met a single person with CFS who didn’t need to have a better connection with themselves.
What the Lightning Process did bring to light for me, however, was extreme anxiety. The moment I did the process my body was flooded with anxiety. Apparently this is quite a common reaction when someone with CFS/ME, or a similar autoimmune condition, connects back to their body after years of being disconnected. It can cause panic attacks, and can switch on your anxiety as your gut and body feel that finally they might be listened to - it then shouts at you.
Now, the LP is controversial in the world of CFS. Lots of people feel its teaching is a personal attack. This was perhaps my real first clue that there is a section of the CFS community who I will never identify with. These are the people who never get better. Who want their illness validated. For me, I felt I was willing to give anything a go. This is one of the most misunderstood illnesses you can have - who was I to know?
Its teaching doesn’t say you have made up your illness and imagined it into being, which many people misinterpret it as. Its teaching is that your stress response (the thoughts in your brain) has exhausted you to the point of illness, and you can think yourself better.
Here’s the low-down with the Lightning Process: it CAN get you back to your life. However, it doesn’t fix what got you sick in the first place… so there is more work to do.
“I would go in and out of low level anxiety to near panic attack at all times. ”
Talking therapy
So now I have anxiety coming out of my ears, and I’ve had this realisation that I can’t label my emotions like others can. I was back at work, and this time aware of how toxic this industry was for me and how badly I react to criticism. It was time to go to therapy.
Over the course of a year, I learnt techniques to cope with anxiety, and how to label my emotions. I learnt about ways we learn to survive in childhood that no longer serve us as adults. I learnt all about the things in childhood that ruled my life now.
Whilst I was ‘doing the work’ I was also functioning day to day, and the honest truth is my anxiety continued with me for many years as I could never really get the motivation together to fix anything or put any techniques into regular practice. I would go in and out of low-level anxiety to near panic attacks at all times. I was just living with it because I wasn’t getting sick.
However, a year later I relapsed.
“Everyone is carrying around a backpack of things their body has to process. Some people have too many things in the backpack, and their body stops functioning properly. The trick is to work out what’s filling up the backpack and take those things out.”
1st Relapse
I can’t begin to tell you the sadness of relapse when, after a year of struggling I finally got my life back.
At first, all I could do was be totally and completely crushed by it. All this signified for me was that no matter what I did my life was going to be robbed from me. I was incredibly low. It was like all the sadness that I should have felt the first time around was finally hitting me.
I was beaten. I truly couldn’t understand what I could possibly try this time around. I hadn’t yet pieced together that stress, anxiety and the way my brain approached life could be causing my illness all on its own.
What was clear to me at the time was that this puzzle I needed to solve, the puzzle of my illness, was too difficult for me.
But after a few months, somehow, I found a thread of hope and a hint of motivation.
I went to see a specialist at a clinic in Surrey called the Burghwood Clinic. It wasn’t cheap, but I had just enough for some blood tests and a consultation.
I saw a doctor called Dr Peter Latchman who said something so powerful it stays with me to this day. He said “Everyone is carrying around a backpack of things their body has to process. Some people have too many things in their backpack, and their body stops functioning properly. The trick is to work out what’s filling up the backpack and take those things out. Anything could be in there. Damaged DNA, allergies, chronic stress, leaky gut, bad diet, lack of sleep, genetics, autoimmune conditions, toxins…”
I didn’t leave there thinking I had the answer, or even feel particularly hopeful that I would find it - but someone had finally confirmed what I thought to be true - that you just had to solve the puzzle. A solution WAS possible, just find the pieces and fit them together. I now know that Cortisol continuously being released into your body due to fear, grief or stress, fills your backpack by itself.
A year or so later, and in the classic ‘recovering from a long-term illness’ style, I took part in a ceremony in Burma where a spirit ‘took my sickness away’. I wept as the ceremony took place. I felt so lost at that time.
Then, back in the UK, what happened next can only be put down to pure privilege.
After crying my eyes out for the millionth time my parents informed me, they were downsizing and would be able to give me a small deposit for a flat. A space of my own. At the age of 38, I was going to be able to live by myself. The joy was indescribable.
No one would be able to judge me as I lay in bed for weeks of restful recovery, as I spent entire weekends on the sofa and closed out the world. No noise. No one’s opinions to worry about. I lived like a sloth. I made all my own decisions. I stopped trying at work. It was a time of absolute peace.
… and do you know what, my CFS went away all on its own! I sometimes wonder if it was that spirit though…
“...the sleep deprivation was not something someone, who had become very used to a life of complete selfishness, could easily adjust to.”
2nd Relapse
After two glorious years of health and now a Senior Producer, I met the love of my life and had a baby. I had heard a lot about relapse after having a baby, and whilst I was nervous, I was getting the job done because there was no choice not to.
I found being a parent hard, to say the least. I had a traumatic birth, a horrendous experience in the hospital afterwards and crushing post-natal depression. On top of that, sleep deprivation was not something someone, who had become very used to a life of complete selfishness, could easily adjust to. We had a colicky baby who wouldn’t feed. It wasn’t a role I found fulfilling and to be honest I spent a lot of time missing my old life. I was desperate for a break most of the time.
… and I’m not going to qualify this with ‘but of course I love my child’ because of course I do - that’s what makes it so insanely hard.
My baby and I would explore London every single day, walking the length and breadth to stay sane and lose baby weight. I think that’s where the trouble really lay.
I have always had an appalling relationship with my body image and have had a history of extreme control over my diet in an effort to stay skinny. Walking 10,000 steps a day minimum was my aim, and when my baby was 8 months I crashed and burned.
Although I was devastated, there was no room anymore for fucking this up. As soon as I realised, I had relapsed, I also knew this would be the last time because I was going to work out once and for all what the root cause of my illness was, and I had a really good clue…
“...the reality is my best is unending. I can work myself to death - that’s my best. So. Okay. Anything less is failure.”
Fear has haunted my life
I have been afraid my whole life. When I look back on it, it's easy to see myself as consistently, non-stop, every waking moment afraid.
Afraid to be judged, afraid I won't be liked, afraid I'll say the wrong thing, afraid someone will tell me a home truth, afraid I'll be rejected, afraid I'll fail, afraid I won't be perfect.
Living in a state of fight or flight, day in and day out.
I can see a little girl, vulnerable and terrified but seemingly brave. Willing to fist fight in the playground but feeling her wants and needs are of very little importance. I can see a teenager with a crippling lack of confidence. I can see a hopeful and ambitious young woman praying to be able to achieve lofty dreams, to be accepted and to be told she is doing a good job.
So much dread and fear that I became repeatedly ill. My poor, poor body was depleted and used up. What do I think is going to happen? Who am I trying to be perfect for, and why?
I know the first place I'm supposed to investigate is childhood, and believe me, I have investigated many times over. But, it doesn't feel like that puzzle piece fits. I have tried to make it fit, therapists have tried to make it fit, but the truth is it doesn't.
Yes, my parents made it clear that hard work = success. Nothing lands in your lap. You have to make it happen for yourself. Yes, they had appalling work habits and held a strong work ethic above all things. You can be anything you want to be if you put the work in. If you were being paid, you earned it.
They often despaired of my lack of organisation, my ability to leave things to the last second, to struggle to communicate my needs until it was too late. 'Oh for god's sake Katy, why do you do this?'
But they also praised me. They expected very little from me, academically. They were impressed by minor achievements. They were good at relaxing and encouraged lazing around when you got the chance.
My Mum always said 'You can only do your best', aiming to reassure me when I was worried about a project or piece of work. But that phrase would fill me with absolute dread because the reality is my best is unending. I can work myself to death - that's my best. So. Okay. Anything less is a failure.
My perspective has always been a bit off. Not quite tuned in properly.
And then, at 40, I realised I had ADHD. Maybe even Autism. Suddenly, a small but incredibly important puzzle piece of how I got here fit. I had been failing at being an ordinary human being for as long as I can remember.
The school reports, the inability to complete a single project without help, and the terrifying need to aim for perfection because otherwise, I couldn't trust myself not to fail. As far as I can tell this kind of trait is across the board something women with late-diagnosed ADHD have.
Now I needed to narrow down the root fear that was causing me to be completely exhausted.
“The moment I accepted that I had ADHD... my anxiety did the most fascinating thing. I felt my body say ‘well thank god for that, I’ve been trying to tell you forever’, and it lifted away.”
ADHD
Huge amounts of women find out they have ADHD, or another neurodivergence, after having a child. This is because the coping strategies they put in place in early life no longer function. They can no longer get by with masking, time out and quiet spaces.
Additionally, a study found that 25% of women with ADHD experienced postpartum anxiety, compared to 4.61% of women without ADHD. Almost 17% of women with ADHD had postpartum depression (PPD), compared to 3.3% without ADHD.
For me, it was during pregnancy that I started to suspect something. When my daughter would kick, I hated it. It was one of those rare moments with pre-diagnosis in neurodivergence where you are categorically sure this isn’t normal. Most of the ways that my ADHD showed up could be shrugged off with an ‘everyone does that don’t they?’, especially if you’ve grown up in a neuro-divergent household, but this wasn’t one of those.
I googled ADHD, and in doing so slowly began to notice its presence in my life. It took months. Test after test showed I didn’t have ADHD, and to be honest I was sure it wasn’t that until I could deny it no more. I went to the GP and told her my suspicions. I explained that I found filling out the forms really hard because they asked me to gauge the ‘difficulty’ level of these issues. Well, I’m a perfectionist, an over-achieving nut job with no ability for self-care so who was I to judge? She told me to fill it out without trying to second guess it… answer each question simply by asking yourself ‘Does it cause me an issue?’.
Lo and behold, my results came out as off the scale.
The moment I accepted that I had ADHD, and welcomed the news, my anxiety did the most fascinating thing. I felt my body say, ‘Well thank god for that, I’ve been trying to tell you forever’, and it lifted away.
Now, I finally understood that my brain’s 100mph speed was for a reason and that it wasn’t ‘normal’ to live at that pace. I learnt about masking, and how utterly exhausting it can be. I could see how my fear of being seen as lazy, or disappointing people was crippling me.
Crucially of all, I realised that I had caused this illness with my mind. I hadn’t imagined it into existence, but my motor brain had worn out my poor, hard-working body.
“ I still didn’t feel ready to try exercising, but I was functioning well in everyday life.”
Fasting, Writing, SIBO and finally taking control
Whilst waiting for my official ADHD diagnosis I stumbled across fasting. A doctor called Dr Mindy Pelz explained on a podcast about how allowing your body to rest could allow it to heal. During this healing process it could heal your mitochondria, and your energy cells, and therefore give you what you need to get by. She also mentioned a bacterial overgrowth in your small intestine called SIBO, and the symptoms that come with it. It can often start with food poisoning (something I had just before my CFS started) and is linked with IBS and CFS. Fasting can improve the effects of SIBO. I had all the symptoms so knew straight away this was something to solve.
Within a few weeks of fasting, my symptoms were massively improved. I still didn’t feel ready to try exercising, but I was functioning well in everyday life.
I had also changed careers, to take a healthy new approach to work with all my new insights. I wanted to leave a toxic industry and I needed to know I was going to be able to have a child and work without it needing to be a stressful combination.
On top of that, I also started journalling. As someone with ADHD, creating habits is quite hard. I had always failed at most self-care. Journalling seemed to make this easier for me and created the habit of daily writing. Whilst writing, I can completely stay in control of my anxiety. If I write daily, I rarely experience anxiety. So, I had suddenly rid myself of one of the most exhausting puzzle pieces of my illness. This was a massive win.
“However, something that hadn’t changed was my underlying fear of being lazy and letting people down.”
Almost there
I knew that my recovery test would be exercise. I was scared to try and kept putting it off for the opportune moment when I was at my absolute healthiest. In the end, I was waking up with energy and it made no sense to put it off any longer.
I think this might be the first time at any attempt at ‘pacing’ that I can remember. I started with 5 minutes of spinning on my bike. Adding 5 mins every few weeks. I started with 2-3 mins of very basic strength training, as I found tired muscles triggered me with fear that I was getting ill. It was a miracle. I was gaining energy like a ‘normal’ person.
However, something that hadn’t changed was my underlying fear of being lazy and letting people down. I would start my working day feeling fine, and then as the day continued a state of panic and fear that I wasn’t doing enough would set in. By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Whilst I was no longer dealing with anxiety, I was entering a state of fight or flight daily. Rest was still a dirty word. Not only that, my ambitions for my life were always on my mind and I felt like I needed to catch up with everyone else around me after years of illness.
“He thought about it a second and then said, ‘I see it differently. What if you were enough?’.”
Health Coaching
As luck would have it, an old friend of mine, David, has recovered from Long Covid and has changed his entire life to retrain as a health coach. He suggested we hold a few sessions to see if he could be of help.
I am about as motivated and proactive as it gets, and had come a long way on my journey - so the truth is I was initially sceptical there was anything he could help me with, but was excited to chat with someone who has had similar experiences.
One day, after a few weeks of debilitating fear I used writing to yet again attempt to find my root fear - and suddenly I found it. It took me years to get there. With support I now realise I could have gotten there quicker, however getting there on my own taught me a lot.
My root fear/limiting belief was: ‘If I work hard and achieve a lot, I will be enough and I will be loveable.’ Essentially, if I work hard I will validate my entire existence.
I knew the moment I wrote it down I had hit the nail on the head.
I told David about this in a session. He was blown away I had managed to find this important information. He asked me what I thought I should do next. I thought about it and said ‘I guess I should work on the fear, but I don’t know where to begin.’ He thought about it a second and then said, ‘I see it differently. What if you were enough?’.
Amongst many other wise words, David helped me to put habits into my days that covered: listing out my achievements, noting which needed to be perfect and which didn’t, daily intense gratitude and self-love work, and stepping back when I entered a fear state.
Within 24 hours, I didn’t enter a fear state at work again. My energy improved even more and I gained more zest for life.
Recovered
I can’t imagine a much harder recovery process than recovering from CFS. I’m convinced that people who want to recover from CFS/ME need to change themselves from the inside out. You have to break yourself down and rebuild yourself. That is a huge undertaking. Especially, as you need to work out what needs adjusting first.
I’m thankful that I got ill in the first place. These changes needed to be made, and I needed to understand more about myself. It’s a shame it had to come via debilitating illness, but I do wonder if it was anything less - would I have made the changes?
Now, it’s a matter of keeping this wellness going. It would be so easy to get comfortable and slip into old habits. I am still working on my fear of failure. I need to keep up the writing, gratitude, and self-love work and keep focusing on my achievements.
Recovering from CFS is the biggest one of all!
