Living on the Edge of Invisibility 

Imagine waking up every morning feeling like you’ve just run a marathon in your sleep—except, surprise! You didn’t. Your body just decided to revolt against you for the crime of existing. Welcome to my life, where my nervous system is basically a drunk, overworked IT guy pressing random buttons to see what happens next.

The official name for this delightful experience? Neuropathic POTS, a form of Dysautonomia. In plain English, it means my autonomic nervous system—the thing responsible for all the functions I shouldn’t have to think about, like regulating my blood pressure, heart rate, and body temperature—decided to peace out and leave me to fend for myself. Throw in some vascular issues, a rebellious circulatory system, Raynaud’s Disease (hello, icicle fingers!), debilitating migraines that sometimes leave me unable to speak or see clearly, and fainting spells, and you’ve got a front-row seat to the “What Fresh Hell Is My Body Serving Today?” show.

There’s a chance this all started with an abdominal aortic aneurysm I had while either pregnant or in labor. Fun fact: no one can say for sure! We love a good medical mystery. It’s like an unsolved crime, except the victim and the detective are both me. And just to keep things extra interesting, I get regular checkups for MS, because why not keep the suspense going?

But here’s the thing—I wouldn’t trade these experiences for anything (except maybe a nervous system that actually does its job, but hey, details). Because through all of this, I’ve learned some pretty valuable lessons. I’ve learned how to listen to my body and not fall prey to society’s super-busy, overtaxed, grind-until-you-drop nonsense.

Over the years, I’ve developed ways to cope with the challenges of chronic illness. One of the biggest changes I made was to overhaul the food I consume. I began by eating more whole foods and cutting out processed options. Then, I started growing my own produce and sourcing what I couldn’t grow from small farms and ranches. The food we consume is often filled with chemicals and additives that harm rather than nourish. Changing my diet has made a significant difference.

I also prioritize staying active, even though it feels paradoxical. Exercise can be incredibly taxing on my body, but maintaining a certain level of fitness is vital. It’s a delicate balance, and I’ve had to learn when to push myself and when to rest.

I also prioritize staying active, even though it feels paradoxical. Exercise can be incredibly taxing on my body, but maintaining a certain level of fitness is vital. It’s a delicate balance, and I’ve had to learn when to push myself and when to rest.

Another major shift has been throwing myself into freelancing and creating my own businesses. Working for myself allows me to set my own pace and adapt to the unpredictability of my health. It’s empowering to have control over my work environment, even if it means navigating a steep learning curve.

I’ve adopted practical measures, like learning how to listen to my body and pacing myself to avoid the dreaded “crash” that comes from overdoing it. But these are just small pieces of the puzzle. The real work has been in shifting my mindset. I’ve learned to celebrate small wins—a day without pain, a completed task, a moment of joy.

I’m learning how to be kinder and more patient with myself as well. Chronic illness doesn’t just require physical adjustments; it requires emotional resilience. I’ve had to unlearn the idea that productivity equals worth and that asking for help is a weakness. Rest is not laziness. Saying no is not selfish. No matter how anyone else feels about it.

If there’s one thing living with chronic illness has taught me, it’s to appreciate the small things. A good day isn’t measured by how much I accomplish but by how present I can be in the moments that matter. It’s sitting in the garden, feeling the sun on my skin. It’s a conversation with someone who truly understands. It’s finding beauty in the midst of struggle.

Living with POTS, endometriosis, debilitating migraines, and fainting spells has shaped who I am in ways I never expected. It’s forced me to slow down, to listen to my body, and to find strength in vulnerability. It’s not the life I would have chosen, but it’s the one I’m learning to embrace—one day, one moment at a time.