The Invisible Struggle

A colleague of mine sent out a mass email regarding going on extended medical leave. Her symptoms sound hauntingly familiar: vertigo, speech delays, auditory processing issues, brain fog. No clear diagnosis. Just the exhausting grind of trying to function while your body feels like it’s working against you.

I know that struggle. For over a decade, I cycled through unexplained fatigue, heart palpitations, panic attacks, and later, a speech pathology that left me functionally mute in public. I’d get judged—lazy, uncommitted, not trying hard enough—by people who had no idea what it was like to push through a workday only to collapse in your car, too drained to drive safely.

Jobs that should have been manageable became impossible because workplaces refused to accommodate my needs. I was qualified. I was capable—if I could set my own pace. But flexibility was treated as an unreasonable demand. So I cobbled together survival: years of couch-surfing, Greyhound trips, living out of my car. All while my body screamed that something was wrong.

My Health Timeline

  • 2010: A severe health scare left me weak, pale, and battling heart palpitations and panic attacks, severe breathing issues, especially in cold weather.

  • Undiagnosed allergies: Dust mites were destroying my sleep and activating asthma symptoms. I didn’t realize it until years later.

  • 2019: Finally, stable housing. Allergy shots. A routine that worked—until COVID hit.

  • 2020-2021: Regression. Dizziness, extreme fatigue, brain fog. Then, the muteness.

The speech issue was the hardest. Anxiety about unmasked people (and the micro-spit of public talking) made me shut down. I communicated via a battery-powered typewriter at appointments. After months of silence, my vocal cords atrophied. I could still think clearly—but speaking for long stretches? Impossible. And yet, so many jobs demand exactly that.

What Helped Me Recover (When Doctors Couldn’t)

No one handed me a diagnosis or a cure. I had to experiment, adjust, and accept incremental progress. Here’s what worked:

1. Accessibility Tools Without Shame

  • Shower chair: Saved energy and prevented dizziness.

  • Cold water therapy: Shock to the system—whether in the shower or local waterfall swims—helped reset my nervous system.

  • Speech alternatives: Typing when talking was too much. No apologies.

    • Hammock Sleeping: With dust mite allergies, it was much easier to maintain a sleeping space by throwing out my bed and transitioning to a hammock.

2. Nutrition & Rest

  • Tracked deficiencies: Low magnesium, iron, and B12 worsened fatigue.

  • Farm-fresh CSA produce: Leafy greens improved circulation.

  • Slept without guilt: If my body needed 10 hours, I gave it 10 hours.

3. Ruthless Energy Boundaries

  • Journaling: Kept me honest about what (and who) drained me.

  • Social reset: Some people, even good ones, were energy vampires. I stepped back. If a relationship was meant to last, it would survive distance.

  • Masked boundaries: Post-COVID, I stopped forcing myself into spaces that felt unsafe.

The Unspoken Truth About Chronic Symptoms

You don’t need a diagnosis to deserve accommodation. You don’t need a label to justify your limits. Progress isn’t linear—some days, “success” is just bathing and eating. Other days, it’s working two hours without crashing.

To my colleague, and anyone else in this fog: You’re not failing. The world wasn’t built for bodies like ours, but we adapt. We experiment. We survive. And sometimes, against all odds, we even thrive.

Final Note

This isn’t medical advice—just my story. But if any piece of it helps you or someone you know, take it. Leave the rest. And if you’ve been through something similar, I’d love to hear what worked for you.