Finding Balance: My Journey with Vestibular Neuritis and Healing
This season of my life has reminded me of a season I went through about four years ago. The initial awakening. One of the many catalyst moments that I look back on, and see that it changed my life forever. It can be really interesting to notice patterns repeating themselves in present day, even when everything on the outside looks different. Even when the internal feelings were the same.
Five years ago, my body couldn’t handle any more. I was exhausted. I was a 20 year old that felt directionless. I didn’t believe my life had any purpose. I was so wrapped up in partying, in being who I thought I was supposed to be, that I forgot to just be.
I was receiving warning signals from my body, but didn’t quite know how to handle them. Honestly, I just kept ignoring them. I kept pushing through, making plans with friends, partying my days away, remaining disconnected, shoving down any and every emotion possible. It was numbing. It’s completely true when they say, that in order to feel the high vibrational emotions such as peace, enlightenment, love, joy, gratitude, you also need to move through the low vibrational emotions, like shame, embarrassment, guilt, fear, and grief. Believe me when I say that I was doing everything in my power to avoid the lower vibrational emotions. But I was doing this while trying to access the higher vibration feelings. And I never could. I would feel glimpses of these emotions while out partying, feeling the temporary high of it all. Mostly, I just felt numb.
It’s quite difficult, to place where this comes from. Maybe it’s society. Maybe it’s about how I learned to self-regulate my feelings when I was younger. Maybe it’s about how hard emotions were dealt growing up, maybe my family leaned more into avoidance rather than discussing the truth of situations. Maybe I never felt safe to feel these feeling freely and openly. It could be from a variety of events. Traumatic situations. But in this scenario, I was trying to forget about the pain from a heart wrenching relationship.
This is not the day for me to go into details of that relationship, but what I will say today is that this relationship caused a pain so unbearable, I didn’t know how to cope with it. I didn’t know how to talk about it or process it. I was stuck in those moments of fear, anger, sadness, and shame. I was only 18 when this relationship ended. I don’t blame myself for not knowing how to heal from the pain at that point in my life and I don’t blame myself for numbing all of it. After the relationship ended, I would have nightmares. Not long after that, I started to have regular panic attacks. My entire nervous system was living in a state of dysregulation. Living in survival mode.
A few years went by, still carrying this trauma and pain deep down within my body. I think a part of me always knew eventually I’d have to face it, but it just seemed so far out of reach. I didn’t know how to access it. I thought by admitting this relationship caused me so much pain, that I was hurt, that I was now having panic attacks about it, that I’d prove everyone else in my life right when they warned me to get out of the relationship sooner. I didn’t think any of the friends that distanced themselves from me would want to be there for me. I thought everyone would look at me and say “I told you so. This is what you get. This is what you deserve.”
It was a very helpless and hopeless time, navigating it all on my own. The shame of it all kept me quiet, and I’d stay quiet for a while.
Something about shame, that I’ve learned, it keeps us quiet. Shame prevents us from opening our hearts. From believing in ourselves, because we’ve already written, published, and sold a novel to ourselves about how we aren’t good enough. About why it’s better to stay small. That no one out there wants to hear our voice, or our pain. I coped with my pain the best way a college girl knows how: partying. I got swept off my feet, mostly because it was the only time I could find relief. Or distraction from school, where I didn’t know what I wanted to major in or what I wanted to be when I grew up, a distraction from my grades slipping, a distraction from new roommates and friends that I couldn’t figure out how to build relationships with unless I started to act just like them. All of this, drew me further and further from myself. From who I really was or who I wanted to be. And I was so disconnected from myself. Start to envision a little windstorm, and the winds pick up, more and more, almost like a tornado spinning ferociously, with no end in sight. That feeling? That was my first few years of college. Numbing but functioning at such a high level, I didn’t know how to stop. I had this deep inner knowing, that it was time to stop, it was time to get help, but I couldn’t quite take the actions to get there. I didn’t want to be a victim to my own life by admitting that I wasn’t okay. But little did I know, I stayed a victim of my own life by refusing to take responsibility for it. It was like I was a hamster running on a wheel, locked inside it’s cage, with nowhere to go, and no idea of how to stop. The fear kept growing, so the numbing kept growing. And, I kept on. This brings me to Winter of 2019. I call this the “real awakening”. Because I knew, before the universe forced me to listen, that it was time for a change. But I still ignored it, and I packed my suitcase, hopped on an airplane, and went to Spain for my month abroad.
My experience in Spain is challenging to really put into words. On the one hand, it was the absolute highest of highs, but also, it was the lowest of lows. It was fun to celebrate the highs, facing my fear of solo traveling, meeting new friends, experiencing a new culture, new food (which was fabulous, tapas..anyone?), being exposed to a new lifestyle, and being so immersed with a different language as well. It was surreal to see how the spanish I’d been studying in school came to life when I was abroad. But the lows. It was a whole lot of numbing because I didn’t know how to handle the intense feelings of being in a brand new place, across the world from my home, that didn’t quite feel safe yet. And having my first bit of vestibular symptoms.
About halfway through my time abroad, living what I thought would be my best life, I remember a moment when I was in Ibiza for a weekend, and things started to take a bit of a turn for the worse. I started to feel a little dizzy. A little nauseous. I’d been traveling a bit, so I figured I was feeling a little motion sickness, which was not uncommon for me. Except, this time, it didn’t go away. It kept intensifying more and more. We were waiting at the airport to board our flight back to Barcelona, and I felt this sensation like everything around me was spinning, that I was losing my balance, or was going to faint. I thought okay, maybe I am dehydrated. I had a few electrolytes. Ate some food. I concluded, okay, this is weird, but I must just be very, very tired. As we were boarding the plane, I remember truly not knowing if I was going to get on that airplane. I had to stop numerous times on the walk to the boarding gates because I was so nauseous. It was a very short flight back to Barcelona, so I got on board and hoped for the very best. I thought to myself, or maybe I’m sick, coming down with some kind of stomach bug, that has to be it. I just remember feeling really scared. It truly feels like a blur looking back on it now. It didn’t feel normal. All I wanted was to go home. But I was heading back to Barcelona, to continue my month abroad. I eventually made it back to my dorm, the nausea and lightheadedness hitting hard, but I was hoping I could sleep it off. I concluded that sleeping would solve everything.
Until I woke up the next morning.
To my own disappointment, my symptoms didn’t improve overnight. I still felt horrible. And I still had to go to class. Or at least I felt like I couldn’t skip class. Because if I skip class, I fall behind, then I can’t go out with my friends later, maybe I’ll miss out on an inside joke or memory, and I didn’t want to sacrifice that (yet). So, I got dressed, and walked to class. And this might have been one of the worst walks of my life. Trying to stay upright. Trying to find balance. It was all vertigo, I know now, but back then? I had no idea. It was so unsettling and unsafe.
After a couple hours of class, I mustered up the courage to talk to my study abroad directos. Holding back tears and feeling the lump in my throat burning as I explained to them all that I was feeling. They encouraged me to go to the nearest hospital and be seen by a doctor. This experience in itself was something I never prepared for. Navigating to a hospital in a new country, communicating with a doctor in a different language, literally using google translate to describe the feelings. I felt so alone. I wish in those moments I would’ve asked someone to come with me. I wish I would have asked for help. But this shame - it stays with you, it makes you believe you have to do it all on your own. I was trying to be tough, to be strong, no matter how hard it was for me on the inside. Because it was. And I didn’t want to be vulnerable. After my appointment, I was given some medicine, and within about a day my symptoms eased. I felt way better. And instead of taking it a little slower after my body went through so much, I went back into full force partying, numbing. I thought it was a miracle. I really still do not know what medicine it was or how it stopped all of these symptoms. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sitting on the edge of my seat the rest of the trip, not knowing whether or not the symptoms would come back at any given moment. But I was grateful that I was able to enjoy the rest of my trip with my friends, exploring around, and living that chapter of my life to the very fullest.
When I got back home to Minnesota, it was right back to college culture, partying, socializing, and I felt my body not wanting to keep up. I felt like, maybe I should process what the heck just happened during my time abroad. It was a lot on my body. And I wondered why it felt like everyone else around me could keep living this lifestyle and how it didn’t seem to affect them as much. That they could show up to everyday life and it didn’t seem to drain them as much as it drained me. Maybe we were all faking it. Or maybe I was living a life that simply was never meant for me. But before I could understand that, it felt like something was wrong with me, that I couldn’t keep up the way I wanted to.
The first day school was in session for second semester, my biggest fear came true. All of the symptoms I experienced in Spain came back in full force. There was nothing holding them back this time. It lasted days, and each day I tried to keep pushing through. I kept working, attending events, going to class, keeping up with my social calendar, trying to pretend nothing was happening, denying it all - because I didn’t want it to be true. It was so terrifying. Urgent care visits, meds that didn’t work this time around. The symptoms didn’t ease up as easily or as quickly as they did when I was abroad. I stayed in this denial for a few weeks, slowly but surely coming to terms with the fact that I couldn’t drive, attend class, go to work, exercise, and life was becoming more and more challenging. Numbing out felt good, so did sleeping, and laying down in my bed. Anything where I didn’t really have to think about it or face my own reality. Reality did come in waves, and not long after, I moved back home with my parents. That was a hard decision, for being 20 years old and in my second semester of my junior year. This was not the way it was supposed to be. None of it made any sense. I felt angry. Like, why is this happening? I didn’t understand.
Autoimmune symptoms are so challenging. I extend so much love for anyone who has gone through it too. When symptoms are invisible, when it’s not a break of the bone, a scrape on your arm, or something the eye can’t visibility see, it is a whole new challenge to navigate. Because it really is just about listening to your body. What I was feeling before my trip abroad, it was all the truth - my body wanted to slow down, yet I denied myself, time and time again. In this scenario, it was almost as if all the years living on autopilot, denying my feelings, numbing out, pushing complicated memories down to my core, manifested these symptoms. My body was running out of ideas on how to communicate with me. Because if the nightmares, exhaustion, or numbness couldn’t motivate me to begin healing, it was going to take something much more.
With all of these symptoms, it still took some time for me to accept reality. I missed my friends, my life, I missed not caring about anything and living on autopilot. It felt like I had a choice to make. To prioritize myself, or continue to not. I chose the first choice. To prioritize me, and begin healing. It was a struggle at first. Seeing new therapists while still feeling angry, defensive, and in denial. I didn’t believe my stored emotions, traumas, or experiences had anything to do with how my body was physically feeling. I thought it was all “woo-woo”, made up, and total bullsh*t. I was very skeptical and reluctant to a more holistic way of healing. But - I was also really scared. Because the memories I wanted to heal were so painful, I didn’t want to face them again. Isn’t it fascinating though, being scared of feeling? It wasn’t only showing up in being afraid to feel my emotional feelings. I was also afraid to feel my physical symptoms at that time. I did what I could to numb those, too. The fear of feeling my symptoms, the fear of going to the doctor, to physical therapy, not knowing if a new diagnosis or symptom was going to emerge. Waking up each day with the fear of not knowing how I was going to feel that day. If I tried to go on a walk, could I do it? If I tried to drive a few miles, would I feel okay? It was like slowly dipping my toes into a new way of living, learning to embrace the newness and the feelings each day at a time. Slowly discovering a new lifestyle, one that works for me, one where I get to know myself.
Eventually, my physical body began to heal. Eventually, I began shedding light on feelings I kept in the dark for so long. I didn’t heal overnight, in fact, I’m still working on it, and I believe it’s a lifelong practice. But what I have now, is a support system, a safe place to continue feeling the ups and downs of life. I’m learning how to process these emotions. How to keep showing up to my life in a way that feels authentic to me. How to navigate change in relationships, in daily routines, habits, after a life altering event. Processing these low vibration feelings are really scary at first. Working through all the shame, guilt, and fear, knowing they will pass by, like a cloud. It may rain for a little while, but you know that during a storm, the sun will always shine again. Everything will always balance back out. The hard feelings are temporary. And it’s the same for the higher vibe feelings too. Joy, love, enlightenment, they shine like the sun after a storm.
I’ve learned healing is not linear. Sometimes I feel safe, secure, and in love with who I am and the life I am building. Other times, I feel the opposite, I feel lost, confused, like all these years of therapy have gone to waste. But it’s been my lifeline. I’m still learning about my body, my capacity levels, and accepting that it’s okay if I can’t “keep up.” I've learned that the life I want to live doesn’t involve hustling or overbooking myself, it really does involve slowing down, and continuing to learn how to trust that slowly down is safe. It involves balance. Showing up as myself. Seasons of rest paired with seasons of movement. Honoring my body and my feelings. Listening to the little signs and signals to the best of my ability, knowing it’s never going to be perfect. I’ve learned to give myself a whole lot of love and grace through it all. Especially while learning this lesson over and over again. Our bodies will bring us back into balance when we need it the most. Our bodies do so much to keep us healthy and alive. When was the last time you really took a moment to pause, and thank your body for all that it does for you?
The vestibular neuritis I experienced is something that will always be a part of me. There are days where if I am a little extra nervous or overwhelmed, I still feel symptoms at a much minor level. But I know it’s my body communicating with me. Maybe a feeling I am avoiding. I’m always learning how to listen to my body, to notice these signals, to know when it’s time to scale back, or move forward. Like I said earlier, this season of life has felt parallel to then. Learning once again how to slow it all down.
Here are some tools that allow my nervous system to regulate and tap into my feelings:
10 deep breaths. Full body inhales through the nose and exhale out your mouth, allowing it to be twice as long as your inhale.
Box breathing: Inhale for four counts, hold at the top for four counts, exhale for four counts, hold at the bottom for four counts. Repeat 10 times.
Tap into your five senses. What can you see? What can you hear? Smell? Taste? Touch? Start identifying at least five things for each. You’ll learn which senses really help to regulate you - for me, its smell and touch.
Stretching. Even just five minutes of stretching allows us to get out of our minds and into our bodies.
Identify what you can control in your situation. Focus on that. Let the rest of the fear fade away.
Meditation and NSDR (Non-Sleep Deep Rest) I love to use guided meditations on Spotify or YouTube, and I personally love NSDR practices on Spotify. Both of these practices can help ground us into the present moment.
These are just a few things that can help to build out your toolbox. No toolbox is like another - so take what feels good and leave the rest out.
Finding balance is a lifelong journey, something I will forever work towards. Today I look back on this time of my life and have so much gratitude for it. Because when we are steering off course, something we need a little shove from the universe to get us back on our path. And although it came with uncomfortable symptoms, I learned and continue to learn so much about what it is I truly need. If you are navigating this path, know you aren’t alone. I know firsthand how scary and vulnerable it can be to feel “sick” with invisible symptoms and begin to heal. Choosing to heal was one of the scariest choices I’ve made. I didn’t know what was going to come to the surface. I didn’t want it to change the way I viewed my life. But, I am so glad it did. And I am so grateful for the choice. If you need a friend, I am always here if you need a shoulder to lean on.
We’ll chat again soon,
Vanessa
