Chapter 3
Posted: September 23th, 2026
Shifting my mindset around pain and learning to listen to my body changed everything, but the real breakthrough came when I stopped chasing quick fixes and let my cycle reveal the truth.
01
I think you could pinpoint my appointment with the physiotherapist as the true starting point of my healing journey, at least mentally. The specialist who saw me was a woman with such an extraordinarily bright, glowing energy. She was exactly the kind of person who always sees solutions instead of obstacles. She asked me a ton of questions and was the very first person to mention “neuroplastic pain” to me.
Now, I’ve been a huge psychology enthusiast for about ten years. I’ve read countless books on the topic and completed a few online courses. On top of that, I’ve been meditating and practising mindfulness exercises for about as long. In theory, I knew full well how much our brains and mindsets can affect the body. But my physical symptoms were still exactly the same as always! There was virtually no improvement in sight. So how could it possibly be linked to my brain? Turns out, it very much could. I’ll get to that in another post.
After discussing neuroplastic pain, the physiotherapist naturally did a physical examination as well. As it turned out, my pelvic floor muscles were tight. She gave me exercises to do at home, along with several book recommendations, and told me to follow up with her in a month. Leaving her office, I felt a genuine sense of hope for the first time in ages. In fact, as I sat in the taxi on my way home, I even started feeling a tiny bit better physically.
I diligently got to work on my exercises and completely immersed myself in the world of neuroplastic pain, which is a fascinating and almost unbelievable subject. My symptoms eased, though they didn’t disappear entirely. I also created a mental “treatment plan” for myself. I tried to meditate every evening and use the methods from The Way Out by Alan Gordon to break free from my symptoms.
Let’s just say my mental state improved dramatically. Paradoxically, focusing so intensely on getting rid of the pain kept my mind constantly anchored to those sensations, which doesn’t exactly help the brain heal.
02
After two months of working on myself, a setback hit, because what would a healing journey be without a generous collection of setbacks? My partner and I had tried to reignite our sex life a couple of times after what felt like a century-long drought. This was actually something the physiotherapist had urged me to do — to “get back in the saddle” as soon as possible. When I told her how long I’d been abstaining, she looked at me in shock and said, “Woman! Pleasure is the foundation of healing!” So, step by step, my partner and I began exploring pleasure again. Having a medical professional actively encourage it was a massive weight off my shoulders.
The first couple of times were actually quite successful. Even though it wasn’t completely pain-free for me, the experience was still positive… But on our third attempt, I forgot to take D-mannose after sex. I’d always taken it religiously beforehand as a preventative measure, but not this time. A few days later, the discomfort that had been quietly lingering in the background flared up again, just like in the “good old days”.
I tried so hard to convince myself that it was just my brain overreacting. I kept thinking that, because I hadn’t taken the supplement, the bacteria had started wandering around again. As women, we all know sex can be one of the biggest triggers for a UTI. But no matter what I tried to tell myself, and despite my dipstick test coming back negative once again, I felt awful.
So I decided I needed to see a urologist again and demand a cystoscopy. Maybe then my brain would finally have enough solid proof that I was fine, once the inside of my bladder had been thoroughly inspected. Let me remind you once again that, at the time, the idea that I might have cytolytic vaginosis didn’t even cross my mind.
03
I managed to get another referral and an appointment with a different urologist, a male doctor based in another town. The thought of seeing a male doctor made me deeply uncomfortable, but since he came highly recommended, I tried to tell myself he was neither a man nor a woman, just a doctor. My sweet mum came with me to the other town and waited outside the consultation room like I was a little kid. Though, to be completely honest, I would have gladly dragged her inside with me. Moments like these make you wish you were a child all over again…
The doctor had a very direct, stern manner, and I noticed myself rushing through my story just to get out of there as quickly as possible. He told me I needed to have new tests done. If the tests still showed bacteria, I’d have to take antibiotics again. If not, he would schedule a cystoscopy. The catch, however, was that I had to provide a sample right then and there: at six in the evening, on the spot, even though I didn’t need to pee at all. As I mentioned, I’d travelled to another town, and my bus home was leaving in a couple of hours, so bringing in a morning sample wasn’t an option.
I managed to squeeze out a few tiny drops, and to my surprise, I was told I’d have to travel all the way back there in person just to discuss the treatment plan. For some reason, they wouldn’t share it over the phone or online… The thought of commuting between towns again and spending even more endless hours dealing with this issue felt so overwhelming that I broke down crying right outside the clinic, completely startling my poor mum.
The results came in quickly, and I saw them on my digital health portal. The culture did show E. coli, but in a significantly lower amount than in my previous tests. As they say, old habits die hard, so I shamefully turned to AI again with this new data… (though much more critically and cautiously this time!). It pointed out that such a low bacterial count in a urine sample can sometimes indicate contamination. Since I hadn’t been able to wash before providing the sample, nor had I managed to collect a proper midstream sample, that explanation seemed plausible to me. Besides, I’d done a urine dipstick test just four days earlier, and it had come back negative.
When I finally saw the doctor again a couple of weeks later, he told me he was prescribing another course of antibiotics. I brought up the possibility that the test had come back positive simply because I hadn’t been able to collect the sample properly. In response, he cracked what he apparently thought was a joke: “Well, then you must be very unwashed down there…” It was inappropriate, and I was in no mood for jokes. Another course of antibiotics was the absolute last thing I wanted to put my body through, especially since I’d recently had a comprehensive gut microbiome test done, which revealed that there was hardly anything left. My levels of beneficial bacteria were virtually nonexistent.
My distress reached a whole new peak when I got home and looked up the newly prescribed medication, ciprofloxacin. Reading the patient information leaflet, I was horrified to discover that, alongside the usual terrifying list of side effects, it had a section warning about “potential permanent disabilities”. Googling the drug and reading deeper into Reddit threads only amplified my terror. It was time for another round of feeling sorry for myself and crying my eyes out.
I was facing a huge dilemma. Since I had a seven-day trip to Europe coming up in a week, I decided that if I was going to take the drug at all, it would have to be after I got back.
04
When heading off on the trip, I decided that, come what may, I was going to enjoy my holiday. And I have to say, the moment I arrived at our Airbnb in Budapest, I immediately felt better. During the first few days, I visited a local pharmacy, having researched beforehand what remedies they offered for UTIs. I bought a syrup-like product that seemed promising based on my research, and once again, I started taking D-mannose twice a day.
The longer I was on holiday, the better I felt. I never quite got back to 100%, but I felt good enough that I didn’t have to dwell on my symptoms multiple times a day. This proved to me once again just how big a role mental well-being played in my case. I’m sure many of you have also noticed that when you’re away from your country, your home and your daily problems, your physical health can improve significantly. A tiny glimmer of hope fluttered in my heart again… Maybe that lab test had been wrong after all, and I wouldn’t have to go through that terrifying course of antibiotics.
A few days after getting back home, I was able to go in and provide a new, more comprehensive urine culture. The last urologist had already ordered it in advance to check whether the antibiotic had worked (even though I hadn’t actually taken it). And lo and behold, the culture came back completely clear! On the one hand, I was surprised because, while I felt better, I still wasn’t completely symptom-free. On the other hand, deep down, I somehow knew this second test would come back clear.
To be entirely honest, I’ll never know for sure whether that first test was wrong. Maybe a UTI really was starting to creep back, but this time, natural remedies paired with a mental break managed to nip it in the bud.
From that moment on, I made a firm decision: to surrender. To simply let it all be, trust that time would do its work, and hope that one day I’d just realise I’d been feeling great for weeks! I was just so burnt out from constantly looking for solutions.
05
This approach worked, at least partially. When I made that decision, I was in a much better place mentally — probably three times better than before. Physically, I was also feeling much better. But my body kept acting strangely, and I still experienced the same discomfort and stinging, which occasionally intensified.
Even after making the “I surrender” decision, I still had moments of panic whenever my symptoms flared up significantly. This happened repeatedly after sex, for example, whenever I jumped into the “action” too eagerly without using my pelvic floor physio techniques to properly “prepare” my body, or when I forgot to take D-mannose as a preventative measure. Unfortunately, my brain had learned to fear sex and its potential consequences, something I’m still working on to this day.
The increased discomfort and mental panic were always followed by a urine dipstick test, which came back negative. Then it would take several days to convince my brain to trust the result, after which the discomfort eased significantly. I also noticed that sex was much more comfortable during the follicular phase of my cycle. Right before my period, it was more painful, and the pain lasted longer.
One of the best things to come out of all this is that I’ve learned to understand and listen to my body so much better. To make this easier, I created a journal for myself because I couldn’t find anything like it on the market. Tracking my symptoms also helped me start noticing patterns in my other health struggles, such as the digestive issues that have bothered me on and off throughout my life. It’s amazing, and mind-boggling, how our bodies and minds work together as a whole, and how seemingly trivial everyday events can end up affecting our physical health.
Tracking my symptoms consistently confirmed that changes in how I felt were closely linked to my stress levels, sleep quality and hormonal state. But it was my menstrual cycle that turned out to be the key to understanding my symptoms. I consistently felt worse around ovulation or right before my period started. I could literally predict the start of my period based on what was happening “downstairs”.
That’s when I realised my body was still going through something that couldn’t simply be brushed off as my brain’s fears. There seemed to be a connection with my hormonal state. So I dived into the research (which, ridiculously, is painfully scarce when it comes to women’s bodies). On top of that, I started looking more closely at our intimate anatomy. And guess what? It’s laughable how little we’re actually taught about this at school. The first time I examined my vulva closely with a mirror, I was shocked by how little I knew about my own body.
Chapter 1
Driven by my stubborn “good girl” mindset and ChatGPT’s false promises, I spent months misinterpreting my body’s signals—only to realize I was blindly fighting two separate conditions at once.
Chapter 2
From dismissive doctors and failed treatments to the overwhelming anxiety and fear that consumed my life, this is the story of hitting rock bottom.
Chapter 3
Shifting my mindset around pain and learning to listen to my body changed everything, but the real breakthrough came when I stopped chasing quick fixes and let my cycle reveal the truth.
Chapter 4
Finally getting official confirmation that my original self-diagnosis was right brought both confusion and an immense sense of relief
