Is it Vestibular, PTSD, HSP, or Empathy?

Yesterday, I had to leave work early. I had to leave out of a combination of stimuli that triggered – perhaps all – of the conditions I have: chronic vestibular neuritis, PTSD, HSP (highly sensitive person), along with my ability to feel the energy and emotions of others (empathy) so much so that it overwhelms my nervous system. The result was a combination of overwhelm, PTSD symptoms (inability to concentrate, focus, etc), anxiety, and a blaring migraine with a bit of dizziness. While any one of these conditions could have caused the symptoms I experienced, upon reflection, it was a combination of stimuli and conditions that created the perfect storm, making it near impossible for me to continue working while the stimuli not only continued, but increased. Thankfully, I have an understanding employer who is fully aware of my sensitivities and the deficits that sometimes accompany this combination of sensitivities. My work is also flexible, some can be done from home, and my responsibilities for that day were relatively minimal. My employer gave me a supportive smile when I told her I was going home, as she was aware of the challenges I was facing that night.

Not every employer would be so understanding or supportive.

I know I am one of the lucky ones.  In America, 2% of the population are considered empaths, 6% will have PTSD at some point in their lives, 15-20% are diagnosed as HSP, and over 35% of adults over the age of forty suffer from vestibular disorders. I suspect these figures are understated! My point is that a whole lot of people suffer from one or several of the conditions with which I sometimes struggle, and very few employers are understanding of or willing to make accommodations for said-conditions. With none of these conditions does one appear “sick.” For most of these conditions the symptoms are difficult, if not impossible, to describe, causing many, including medical professionals, to believe the issues might be “in your head.”

Literally, vestibular disorders are in our heads! For myself, I have chronic inflammation of the vestibular nerve which makes me sensitive to movement, sound, smells, lights, barometric pressure – and so much more. When I’m “triggered,” the results vary. Sometimes I just feel icky. Other times I’m bowled over by vertigo. Sometimes the vertigo isn’t full-on spinning, just a feeling of disorientation or unease. I sometimes get aura migraines, and other times full-body migraines where I can do nothing but lay on the couch with lights off and a blanket over my head. I NEVER know when the symptoms might arise but there are certain things that are consistent including driving (especially at freeway speeds), snow and rain, windshield wiper movement, low barometric pressure, and red wine. Ironically, red wine is also one of the remedies I have found for when I have a full-on migraine. Weird.

PTSD is even more subtle for me and thankfully with medication I haven’t had a panic attack in several years. I continue, however, to find myself sensitive to crowds, loud noises, a multitude of stimuli, and certain situations and/or conversations. One thing I’ve come to notice, which I don’t remember having before the experiences that brought about the PTSD – I now have some sort of auditory processing disorder – which could also be related to the vestibular issues. The disorder goes like this: if I’m in a crowd of people and someone, or multiple someones are talking to me, I literally can’t hear them.  All I hear is “wha wha wha wha.”  As one friend described it  – “Charlie Brown’s teacher.”  I can hear the sounds, but I cannot make out the words.  For years I thought I was hard of hearing.  My hearing tests all prove to be in the range of normal, and yet, these symptoms persist.  As an office manager, this condition makes my job difficult and overwhelming at times, and I have to repeatedly ask people to repeat themselves while explaining about the processing disorder.

As it relates to HSP and being an Empath, (insert shoulder shrug emoji).  If you are either of these, you get it. If not, there’s likely no way to explain it. The best way to describe both of these is that I feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel  everyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyything. Your emotions. Sometimes your thoughts. Pending earthquakes, hurricane, or other global phenomenon. I sometimes know when something bad is about to occur. I can read your energy. I feeeeeeeeeel if you are a good or bad human being. I can tell by your body language if you’ve been abused. Sometimes I see it. It’s bad enough when it’s only one person I’m feeling, or one global phenomenon…….but if it’s a room of people or the whole planet is losing its shit, it becomes overwhelming which makes it difficult to stay fully present, to think clearly, and to remain focused. On some days it’s so bad that I can’t perform normal administrative tasks or even read a book or magazine for pleasure. After periods of intense stimuli, I just don’t have the bandwidth.

So yeah…….with (what felt like) a hundred people in the building and their children talking, making messes, asking for attention, some of them screaming…..I had had enough. Was it due to vestibular issues, PTSD, HSP or Empathy?  The answer is YES.  All of the above.

Again, a huge thank you to my employer and for the universe who put me in their path so I could have a supportive place to work from which I could escape if things become too intense. And my heart goes out to those who aren’t equally supported in their place of employment or who struggle to find employment due to what can often be debilitating symptoms – symptoms that are so invisible that disability won’t even take a look at them.

When the Rejected Becomes the Cornerstone

This week I was given a lived experience of a lesson I had planned for my online community. Instead, of being able to present the lesson, however, I was writhing on my couch in the lived experience of it. Interestingly, it is not unusual that I am required to live out a lesson before I’m able to share it.

The lesson I had planned was based on the following psalm:

The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

Psalm 118

The Stone

This is how I came to live out the planned lesson:

I have a medical condition called chronic vestibular neuritis. What this means is layperson’s terms is that a virus caused permanent damage to my vestibular nerve.

From Wikipedia: The vestibular nerve plays an implicit role in maintaining blood pressure, maintaining balance control, spatial memory and spatial navigation during movement. 

Damage to the vestibular nerve can lead to intermittent and ongoing issues of vertigo, giddiness, sensitivity to light and sound, and migraines. This is exactly how I have experienced this disorder. I’ve exhausted all efforts in seeking a cure or effective treatment and have found neither. Instead, I’m stuck with the reality of this disorder:

  1. Due to this disorder, I can no longer drive on highways or long distances.
  2. Due to this disorder, I am often stricken with giddiness (feeling unbalanced, dizzy, or light headed).
  3. Due to this disorder, I am sometimes stricken with an excruciatingly painful migraine that might be limited to my head and neck, or sometimes encompasses my whole body.

Changes in barometric pressure or dramatic weather changes can trigger my symptoms. Wine is sometimes a trigger. Poor seating ergonomics and too much time on my computer are also triggers. Sometimes I can’t point my finger at what the cause might be. The position of the stars? A comet flying past? Solar flares?  Who knows!?

The Rejection

This week I was struck by the symptoms of this disorder and was forced to spend two days on the couch.

To say I hate that I have this condition would be an understatement.  Since 2016, when I was first stricken with the virus that caused vestibular nerve damage, I have struggled with the ongoing and intermittent symptoms. Mostly I have struggled with the limitations caused by this disorder.  I hate that I am no longer free to just get in my car and drive where I want.  I hate that I have to ask my friends or my children to drive me. I hate that there are some days when even local driving is excruciating – like on those bad weather days where the wind is blowing, snow is pouring down, and my windshield wipers are going. Between the pressure and the movement, I feel like I’m going to die.

My overachieving workaholic “needs to be productive to feel valued” self, hates that there are many days where I am completely unable to work because the pain, the light, the sounds, the smells, and any kind of movement forces me to retreat into darkness.  I writhe in pain while wallowing in the inner voices of chastisement telling me I’m being weak and lazy for not pushing through the pain to get things done. UGH!  (Who said the “protestant work ethic” was a good thing?  I’m not even Protestant!)

In short, chronic vestibular neuritis and all its accompanying symptoms has been a stone that I have rejected. I have hated this about myself. I have been frustrated at the medical professional’s inability to offer me an effective treatment or cure. Even the diagnosis took years to confirm (I knew what it was through my own research YEARS before my doctor could tell me what it was!). I have grown tired of all those well-meaning folks who try to offer up their own cures and treatments for something about which they do not know.

The Cornerstone

During all these many years of rejecting the stone of vestibular neuritis, has also been the whispering invitation of surrender and acceptance. After exhausting all other efforts, what choice does one really have?  I can continue to be angry, frustrated, resentful, impatient, and condemning of my symptoms, but what good does that do me?  Instead, (along with the accompanying symptoms of grief) I have tried to look at what this disorder might be inviting me into.  The invitation is really quite obvious and is known in what the disorder has forced me to do:

  1. Be vulnerable and humble enough to ask for and accept help with those things I can no longer do for myself (like drive).
  2. Take advantage of my good days. Do what I can do, without pushing myself and let go of the rest.
  3. Surrender to the bad days. It’s ok to do nothing. It’s ok to cancel plans. It’s ok to forego commitments.

The more subtle invitation has been to reorder and restructure my life away from my workaholic tendencies, and toward a gentler, more ease-full flow. No longer do I feel the need to fit into the standard American model of work. I have more and more fully embraced the fact that I couldn’t work a “regular job” if I tried. Only in running my own business do I have the freedom to work in a way that is necessary to maintain my health (oh yeah…..there’s that degenerative kidney disease I have too) and respond to my unpredictably changing symptoms.

In doing this, the rejected stone of chronic illness has become the cornerstone upon which the current foundation of my life is established.

What have you rejected about your own life experience that might be seeking to become a cornerstone?


Learn more about Soul School

and all we have to offer in the way of online courses, one-on-one spiritual counseling, books, and more HERE.