Happy angry: what a study about endometriosis at work taught me about the system we're stuck in
TLDR: A 2026 Brunel University study confirmed what we already knew. Endo doesn't make us fail at work. Work is built for a body that never flares, and we're the ones left paying for it. I'm angry. Happy angry.
I've worked for myself for the last six years. To start with, it was through choice. After 12 years in corporate and recovery from a breakdown, I was ready to do my own thing. But now, I know that working for myself is a necessity. Because there is no way I would be able to go back to full-time employment and deal with the debilitating, agonising pain I've dealt with over the last few years.
The thought of having to put a smile on my face and pretend everything is okay, tip-tapping away on the keyboard while my uterus feels like it's being scraped out with a rusty spoon, makes me feel nauseous. And yet I know millions of women who have to do exactly that, every single day. Honestly, I'm surprised the "1 in 6 people leave the workforce because of endometriosis" figure isn't higher.
As a coach, I often talk to clients about focusing on the things they can control, and trying not to get sucked into the things they can't. Especially around overwhelm, stress and burnout. Systemic change in an organisation can take years, sometimes decades, to course-correct. But I hadn't really considered any of that from an endo perspective until I read a study by Brunel University. And it gave me a wave of validation, then relief, then anger. Because this is what we have to put up with.
The uncomfortable truth: the world of work is built for able-bodied, healthy, white men. (Why is this a theme across all of society?!)
Here's the detail:
The research spoke to a small number of people (26, and I'd genuinely love to see far more people take part in this kind of thing). It talks about "systemic neglect" (now you can see why my ears pricked up). The core idea being that the problem was never our bodies failing to cope with work. The problem is that workplaces are built for a body that never flares.
They found six key themes, most of which you'll be all too familiar with.
Masking and performing "normal." Acting like you're coping, like you're fine, like you're definitely not going to make anyone else feel uncomfortable. How often have you had to do this? It makes me think of how I used to hide my tampon up my sleeve to walk through the office, so nobody would see. So I wouldn't make anyone else feel awkward. And this is honestly one of the most exhausting parts of living with an angry uterus. The PRETENDING THAT WE'RE OKAY. Because a lot of the time, I promise you, we are not.
Silence and disclosure. This one is heartbreaking, because so many people are suffering in total silence. Mainly because they're worried about what other people will think, or that it'll affect their career progression. And it isn't just individuals staying quiet. The study found whole workplace cultures, especially in male-dominated sectors, that treat reproductive health as taboo. So the silence isn't a personal choice. It's manufactured.
Rigid systems, like the Bradford Factor. HR and Occupational Therapist folks, you'll know this one, but for us mere mortals (I had to do some googling), it turns out a lot of organisations (not all) use this to measure absence. And it does it in a way that penalises people with chronic, cyclical conditions, because you get marked down more for several short absences than for one long one. Which is the exact shape endo forces on us. RUDE.
Careers made quietly smaller. This one hit me square in the chest, because it's something I've heard repeatedly from people in the community.. The study found people turning down promotions, going part-time, stepping back, or leaving jobs they loved, not because they lacked ambition, but because the roles demanded a constant, predictable availability our bodies can't guarantee. The researchers call these careers "structurally constrained, not chosen." And the gut-punch line is that workplaces rarely even register it as a loss. Ambition doesn't get taken loudly. It gets taken quietly.
Emotional labour and mental health. The study is clear that the exhaustion isn't only physical. There's a whole second shift going on: the guilt about letting your team down, the anxiety, the feeling that you're a burden, the constant effort of appearing fine while your body is screaming. They found this psychological load is as draining as the pain itself. I know that one intimately. And a workplace that only ever deals with the physical side (a sick note here, a day off there) completely misses the weight we're actually carrying.
Things I loved about the study:
They spoke to a real variety of people, from the recently diagnosed all the way up to someone 17 years into living with this. Representation matters, so if you can see yourself in one of the people they spoke to, that helps.
They look at it all through the lens of something called Feminist Disability Theory, which I hadn't come across before (I might be alone in that, but it genuinely reframed things for me). The idea is that the disability is the gap between your body and a world built for a different one. The stairs are the problem, not your legs. The lack of paid menstrual leave, the fact the UK still has no endo or adeno-specific sick-leave provision, that's the problem. Not the fact that you have endo.
And it brings me right back to the thing I coach on: what you can and can't control. This isn't a blame or victim mentality. It's an acknowledgement that the environments we work in simply weren't set up for people with angry uteruses* to thrive.
It also calls out the maddening part: despite endometriosis costing UK businesses £8.2 billion a year, the onus for making changes still falls on us. The ones already in pain. Already on the edge. Already exhausted.
Things I'd love to see next:
A bigger sample. 26 is a brilliant start, but for the kind of change that packs a punch, we need numbers that are harder to ignore. And it's worth saying: the people in this study were mostly in stable, white-collar jobs, which means the people hit absolute hardest, the ones forced out of work entirely, aren't even in the data. Which makes everything above land even heavier.
And maybe a follow-up that speaks to the organisations getting this right, and what it's done for their people and their bottom line. Probably a separate piece of research, but I'd read it in a heartbeat.
So, having read the whole thing in detail? I'm still angry. But happy angry, I guess.
Because here's what it really comes down to. You're not weak. You're not dramatic. You're not bad at your job. You're just expected to work inside a system that was never built for you to succeed.
So here's what you can actually do with that anger:
Feel it, and drop the shame. The next time work makes you feel like the problem, remember: it's the building, not your legs.
Do one small thing. Share this with someone who needs to read it. If you manage people, go and look at whether your absence scoring quietly punishes cyclical conditions, and at the Endometriosis UK "Endometriosis Friendly Employer" scheme.
Come and be angry with us. This is exactly why The Angry Uterus Club exists. Join us here.
You can read the study in full here. I'd genuinely love to hear what it stirs up for you.
*when I say angry uteruses, I intend for it to represent all chronic pelvic pain and I recognise that endometriosis is a whole body condition, not just affecting the uterus.
