Breaking Waves – Emma Simpson

Apparently my chronic urticaria is ‘spontaneous’, which means that there’s no known trigger, and therefore no easy treatment – marvellous. My mum says, ‘Oh, hives – that doesn’t sound too bad.’ For eighteen months I have wanted to peel my skin off with a potato peeler, and that’s in the better moments.

I have woken up bleeding so many times, cried with the pain of what feels like burns and been thankful when it’s ‘just’ the intense itch of ants crawling under my skin. I have also been told that half of these conditions don’t actually exist, my voice quieted by ‘specialists’ and ‘experts’, and don’t even start me on the menopause.

have seen dermatologists, endocrinologists, rheumatologists, immunologists, gastroenterologists; spent thousands on private GPs and tests, been in and out of the NHS system, been to Harley Street, the Priory and back. The doctors say my condition(s) is ‘complex, multi-layered’. ‘Unlikely to ever find a cause’ (ergo: no point trying). When I am prescribed strong and targeted drugs for specific issues I ask, ‘can it be treated holistically?’

and am told ‘in a word, no’. I see their eyes glaze over when I mention fatigue, aches; I can almost hear their internal narrative: ‘Yes, yes, we’re all tired. Life is tiring.’ They have no fucking idea what tired means. I am not the ‘tired’ that results from a long day at work and/or parenting – I know what that feels like.

My fatigue makes me want to curl up on a wet pavement in the rain, to sleep on a pin, or leaves me sitting in the car for hours after I’ve parked in the driveway, unable to make it to the front door. My fatigue makes me want to drive into a tree just so I can go to hospital and sleep for a few days.

I find myself deferential in front of them, submissive, silent, even though I am the expert on my body, depleted by my physical weakness and the daily struggle. I silently grieve for the loss of functionality I once knew. I cry when the blood tests come back normal, because my state of being is so far from normal – it is agony – but time and again, nothing is identified. Sometimes I feel that I don’t want to live anymore, not like this. I can’t say this to anyone as I don’t want to alarm them.

I am not at life risk and I don’t need to be on suicide watch, so I can’t speak it.

Published in the UK and USA in 2025 by Icon Books Ltd, Omnibus Business Centre, 39–41 North Road, London N7 9DP email: [email protected] www.iconbooks.com ISBN: 978-183773179-4 eBook: 978-183773181-7 Text copyright © 2025 Emma Simpson The author has asserted her moral rights. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Typeset by SJmagic DESIGN SERVICES, India Printed and bound in Great Britain 1kitap1.com/en CONTENTS 1. The Shape of Water 2. The Taste of an Iceberg 3. Drowning 4. The First Breath 5. The Body Keeps the Score 6. Tits, Bums, Lumps and Bumps 7. Come Dive with Me 8. What Lies Beneath 9. Reflections 10. Endings Are Always the Hardest Acknowledgements Notes 1kitap1.com/en For Brian, For Dad 1kitap1.com/en 1.

THE SHAPE OF WATER It was 2am. I was working as an air traffic controller at London Gatwick Airport which was, at that time, the busiest runway in the world. I loved those early hours, with the airfield lit up like a Christmas tree. Aircraft were scarce, but the airfield was alive with activity, preparing for the day ahead. The odd late charter flight came and went, and then … that beautiful stillness that only seems to occur when the rest of the world is asleep.

I surveyed my domain. At that moment, this was my airfield. While night shifts certainly had a well-documented downside, there was also something special about them; a feeling of camaraderie upon entering an exclusive club, a mutual acknowledgement that we were here, keeping the national infrastructure going while most people were in bed. It was a world of sugary doughnuts and strong tea at 3am to fend off the body’s yearning for hibernation.

There was time to just be. To notice what it is to be part of something bigger. A rare luxury. That night I contemplated the noise that had been circling around my mind for some time. Regardless of my shift pattern, I was no longer sleeping. A relentless rumination pervaded my head and the only time I felt relief from it all was when I was here, wearing my air traffic headset.

While I was speaking to aircraft, in that state of hyper vigilance, with a plane taking off and landing every minute, I was 100 per cent focused. In this space, I had a defined voice, one with specific purpose and intent.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 6618ea8195b6a9f6
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 3,060,930 bytes (2.919 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9781837731794, 9781837731817
• Pages: 163
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 334.81 minutes
• Total Words: 66,961
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