Healing isn’t linear, but every step forward is a reminder that I’m not stuck — I’m growing.
Before I was diagnosed with a vestibular migraine, I was always moving. I loved live music, hiking, walking, and spending hours day-adventuring with my camera, capturing nature in all its beauty. I thrived being outdoors and active — never imagining that something as basic as walking to my mailbox would one day feel impossible.
Everything changed in August 2021. I was alone, driving home from my sister’s several hours into a road trip, with about 400 miles to go. While crossing a bridge, it suddenly felt like my body blacked out — even though I was still conscious. I felt lightheaded, disoriented, like I was moving even while sitting still. Terrified, I pulled over and walked toward a police officer, hoping for help getting to a hotel. I remember feeling like I might pass out with every step. Instead of helping, he looked at me like I was crazy and drove off.
I made it to a hotel that night and managed to get home the next day, slowly and carefully taking backroads. For months after, I experienced dizziness while driving or shopping. I assumed it was anxiety — some aftershock from the terrifying drive. But that December, things worsened rapidly. A simple 90-minute ride to the airport with my family left me miserable. After that, my life felt like it was falling apart.
Throughout 2022 and part of 2023, I stopped driving. I stopped going places. Everything I could possibly have delivered, I did. I missed important life events and moments with family. I was lucky to still be working from home, but even sitting at my desk was hard. I’d feel like I was spinning or falling while sitting completely still. Showers became exhausting. Walking to the mailbox felt like a risk. Some days, I couldn’t even walk down the hallway without vertigo taking over.
At the time, I was treating everything as anxiety. I went to therapy, tried breathing work, gratitude, journaling, art therapy — all of which helped in small ways, but nothing ever felt like it truly fit. I didn’t want to rely on anxiety medications out of fear of side effects or feeling worse.
Then, in September 2024, everything shifted. I spoke with another woman who described symptoms nearly identical to mine. It was the first time someone truly understood. She told me she had been diagnosed with vestibular migraines — and suddenly, things began to make sense. I did some research and saw myself in nearly every description.
Shortly after, I found a neurologist who confirmed the diagnosis. I also began working with a migraine coach who has completely changed my life. I’m still focusing on lifestyle changes, but I finally feel like I’m moving forward. I’m more active again. I’ve gone back to photographing more than just my backyard. And most importantly, I no longer spiral on hard days. I know not every day will be perfect, but I also know that I have tools and support now — and that makes all the difference.
I’m still not driving, but I know that day will come. I feel that possibility again — and that hope means everything.
To anyone starting this journey: hold on. I know how scary it can feel to live in a body you don’t recognize. Keep asking questions. Keep advocating for yourself. And when you find the people who understand — hold them close. There is light on the other side. You can breathe again. I promise.