I think the memory of what life was like before the vestibular condition is the hardest part in the beginning (for me, anyways). I was grasping for the past and it was slipping through my fingers. Sometimes I imagined I would just wake up and everything would go back to normal. A girl can dream, right?
I’d never thought much about feeling grounded and suddenly all I longed for was to be in the earthly dependable dimension instead of the floaty hellish dimension I’d been transported to. There was no one in this new dimension telling me what the hell was going on. Why am I here? I had countless conversations with the universe pleading for insight. I’m the kind of woman who likes to look for signs.
I spent hours and hours searching for answers and the universe was kind in many ways. Within a few months I had a better understanding of what was possibly happening within me. I had some ideas but confirming the facts (vestibular neuritis + vestibular migraines) was like running through mud. I’d think I was getting somewhere and then unexpectedly sink deeper.
What I couldn’t see in the beginning, and even when I was lost somewhere in the middle, was that I was covering much more ground than I could understand at that time. I was creating the trail so there weren’t any markers for reassurance that I was still on the path.
In my opinion, progress is not linear. While my heart was aching, my mindset was holding me up. When my mind was depleted, my heart stepped up and showed me beauty in this life- even with a vestibular condition.
Beauty will always exist, but the complexity is that we have to be willing to see it.
Learning I was not alone on this trail.
Discovering my confidence.
Feeling my soul reawaken.
Releasing the weight.
Finding, and becoming, more myself.
Walking the trail…
Looking forward rather than back.
The shift from looking backwards to only forward was gradual. I didn’t know what forward could look like, but I knew how I felt before. I also knew how I felt in the messy middle. It was bizarre when I started to forget what “normal” felt like. I think that if you’re in the midst of a vestibular something it becomes incredibly easy to question everything: every glitch, every sway, every heightening emotion; anxiety becomes a storm, and simple tasks take on a new meaning.
As I started to find a grounded state, I still questioned if this was my normal. I still do.
But what I do know is that it doesn’t matter as long as I keep uncovering my bliss, my happy, and keep looking forward.
I share the heartbreak of the beginning because it helps me heal and I hope that it helps someone sitting in their beginning. I am beyond grateful for where I am today and that I experience most days in a balanced state. For a while I blocked out a lot of the beginning, probably as a protective mechanism for my mind and body. I just simply could not revisit that period in order to progress.
Now I’m digging around and for the first time letting myself acknowledge what that time means for me.
Heartache hurts, and I describe the experience of getting hit with a vestibular condition that way because it was trauma to my system. I’m ok with exploring that hurt now because I believe it can be healed.
By the way, I believe that you can heal too. I think that it looks different for each one of us, but my mission is to help others find their bliss- with a vestibular condition and beyond.
Just know you don't have to go it alone.