Guest post by Cherika Gadson, MS, APRN, NP-C, vestibular patient
Vestibular disorders are often described as “invisible illnesses.” While that label is accurate, it can also shape how we respond to our own symptoms in ways that quietly work against our healing.
For a long time, I didn’t speak up about what I was experiencing. Not because the symptoms weren’t there, but because I looked fine. And when you look fine, there is an unspoken expectation to function as if nothing is wrong. So I stayed quiet.
I didn’t say, “I feel dizzy.”
I didn’t say, “I need a break.”
I didn’t say, “I’ve reached my limit.”
Instead, I pushed through.
At the time, it felt like resilience. In reality, it was contributing to my symptoms.
The Internal Conflict
Part of that silence was rooted in something deeper.
I was grieving the version of myself that didn’t have to think about balance, stimulation, or limitations. Acknowledging my symptoms out loud made that loss feel real, and at times, even retraumatizing, so I avoided it. But in doing so, I created a different kind of burden.
Silencing my symptoms didn’t eliminate them. It amplified the stress surrounding them. And stress, as many patients know, can directly intensify vestibular symptoms and raise baseline sensitivity. Studies have shown a strong relationship between anxiety, stress, and increased dizziness severity (Staab, 2012).
The Turning Point
My approach to healing shifted when I allowed myself to speak honestly about what I was experiencing. Simple statements became powerful:
“I’m feeling dizzy.”
“I need a moment.”
“I’ve reached my capacity.”
There was no over-explaining and no attempt to justify how I felt. Just acknowledgment.
That shift changed how I managed my condition. I stopped consistently pushing past my limits. I reduced the frequency of symptom escalation. I began working with my body instead of against it.
Rethinking Strength
There is a common belief that pushing through symptoms demonstrates strength. In my experience, it often does the opposite.
Pushing through can overload the nervous system, prolong recovery, and reinforce cycles of flare and fatigue.
Research supports that pacing, self-awareness, and symptom acknowledgment improve outcomes and reduce exacerbations (Nijs et al., 2013).
True strength looks different. It requires awareness. It requires adjustment. And it requires the willingness to honor limitations without guilt.
Practical Strategies That Helped Me
- Acknowledge symptoms early – Recognizing symptoms at onset can prevent escalation.
- Stop tying rest to exhaustion- Rest should be preventative, not earned.
- Use simple language – “I need a reset” or “I’m at capacity.”
- Interrupt the stress cycle – Silence → pushing → flare. Break it early.
- Allow space for understanding – Clear communication invites support.
Closing Reflection
For a long time, I believed that looking fine meant I needed to be fine. Now I understand that healing requires honesty, not performance.
Invisible conditions are already difficult to navigate. Silencing ourselves only adds to that burden. Speaking up did not make my symptoms worse. It helped me manage them more effectively. And ultimately, it became a key part of my healing.
References
- Staab, J. P. (2012). Chronic subjective dizziness.
- Nijs, J., et al. (2013). Pain neuroscience and central sensitization.
