Above is a picture of me on a random day of my senior year of high school. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about this picture. It’s a basic mirror selfie that everyone takes when they’re bored in class and decide to go to the bathroom to keep themselves awake–nothing new.
However, this picture is very important to me,and it’s not becuase I like how I look or appreciate the outfit I’m wearing.
I look at this picture in a different way than anyone else could because I know, while taking this picture, I was feeling some of the worst pain I have ever felt in my life.
Almost a year ago, I was diagnosed with autonomic dysfunction, most commonly referred to as POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome). Though I was only diagnosed last year,I have held these feelings with me for my entire life. I thought it was normal, what I was feeling. I thought it was what everyone felt when they were tired or overworked. Maybe I was just tired more often.
But, if I learned one thing from this whole experience, it is that no pain is normal.
The best way I can describe my condition is chronic pain, fainting and a million other random problems that it loves to throw at me. I have discoloration and poor circulation in my hands and feet, leading to constant numbness. I have constant headaches and lightheadedness which can occasionally lead to blacking out or fainting. These feelings are often paired with brain fog and an inability to engage in conversation or formulate my thoughts. My POTS also comes with strange sensitivities to food and soreness in every part of my body.
One of the most astounding things to me about POTS is that nobody can tell I have it. I am feeling all of these things, but everything is internal.
This was something I struggled with a lot, especially before I was diagnosed. I felt all of this pain, and there was no explanation, no source. I assumed it was just part of life. High school was exhausting, and I was in a million different clubs, hard classes and barely getting any sleep. I must just be tired.
I have been a good student since I was little; school was just something that came easy to me. I wanted to do well and I cared a lot about my future. However, as the pain worsened, I completely lost all motivation. I found myself falling behind in all of my classes; I couldn’t even bring myself out of bed to do work. My room became an absolute mess because I couldn’t even pick my clothes up off the floor. But, high school was exhausting. I was in a million different clubs, hard classes. I barely got any sleep. I must just be tired.
Along with this motivation loss came a severe mental health decline. I felt depression and anxiety in ways I had never felt it before. I felt stupid for not being able to do anything. I was being lazy. My grades were slipping; I wasn’t getting my classes the way I used to. My anxiety reached its peak my junior year, paralyzing me. I didn’t understand why, but then I remembered. High school is exhausting. I was in a million different clubs! I was in so many hard classes. And let’s not even mention the lack of sleep! I must just be tired. That had to be it.
But it wasn’t.
I was so quick to blame myself. I was so quick to push everything I was feeling aside. But I was not lazy. I was not stupid.
And in my senior year, I finally realized that I needed to put my health first. So, I went to a doctor. And another. And another. And another. I finally got my diagnosis and felt a sense of relief. There was an explanation.
POTS is a disorder/disability, so there is not a cure. Even though I have been diagnosed and given the proper ways to treat how I’m feeling, it doesn’t just go away. I still feel the same way I felt before I was diagnosed. However, I have been given the proper ways to manage it, and I have quickly come to realize, the world is not going to stop. And I can’t stop living my life because of it.
That is how I learned to find a proper balance. Resting when I need to rest, but allowing myself to go out with my friends. Studying for that impossible test and following my dreams. Sometimes I have to work a little harder than I would like. Sometimes it is a bigger push to complete an assignment or even get myself out of bed. And yes, there are some days that I need to take a breather and just relax. But, I don’t want the world to pass me by because I can’t get on my feet.
I have experienced trouble not beating myself up because of how I feel. If my arms are too sore to lift something or my head hurts too bad to exercise, I tend to get angry at myself and my body. I think I’m weak. But, my disorder does not make me any less of a powerful woman. I am a strong human being who is willing to stop at nothing to accomplish her goals. I will take that extra push and soar.
I wanted to share my story for anyone out there who is suffering from anything big or small, physically or mentally, and feels like no one can see them. Pain can be invisible, but it does not mean it is not there. You are not stupid. You are not weak. There are so many resources out there to get help. It is never too late. Pain can absorb you in ways you never thought, but you are so much more than your pain.
My name is Zoey. I plan to pursue a career in biology and environmental science. I absolutely adore the arts, specifically musical theater. I am passionate about protecting and preserving the environment. I love writing, playing ukulele, being outdoors and spending time with the people I love.
I happen to have a disorder that makes some of those things a little harder sometimes, but I don’t let it get in the way of me living my life, not anymore. And it certainly does not define who I am.