When My Brain Picks a Fight, My Body Throws the Punches

December 27, 2025 JoLeave a comment

Sometimes I wake up already in pain, which feels rude considering I was unconscious and minding my business.

My jaw aches like I spent the night grinding concrete. My shoulders are locked halfway to my ears. My hands hurt like I’ve been stress-clenching imaginary problems in my sleep (which, honestly, tracks). I didn’t overdo it yesterday. I didn’t injure anything. I just… existed.

This kind of flare doesn’t start in my body — it lands there.

My nervous system wakes up feral.
Heart racing. Muscles braced. Skin overly dramatic.
Brain fog so thick I could lose a thought mid-thought.

It’s like my body heard a rumor that something bad might happen and decided to prepare for war before confirming the details.

When the nervous system is under prolonged stress, it can amplify pain signals even without new injury — a process called central sensitization. It’s common in fibromyalgia and chronic pain conditions, and it means the pain is real, measurable, and neurological — not imagined or exaggerated.

Here’s the annoying science part: emotional stress doesn’t stay politely in the “feelings” department. It rewires pain pathways, cranks up inflammation, and lowers the threshold for flares. My body doesn’t care if the threat is physical or psychological — it reacts with the same unhinged enthusiasm either way.

So when I say I’m in pain, I’m not being metaphorical.
I mean my body is cashing a check my nervous system wrote.

There’s research behind this, by the way. Emotional distress activates the same pain-processing pathways in the brain as physical injury. For people with fibromyalgia or trauma histories, the nervous system can stay stuck in high-alert mode — turning stress into very real, very physical pain.

It looks like moving slower. Canceling plans without guilt (or with guilt, but canceling anyway). It looks like heat packs, silence, and a deep distrust of anyone who suggests I “push through it.” It looks like exhaustion that sleep laughs at and pain that refuses to justify itself with visible damage.

This isn’t weakness.
This is a system that’s been on high alert for too long and forgot how to stand down.

Some days the goal isn’t fixing anything — it’s lowering the volume. Fewer demands. Softer expectations. Treating my body like it’s been through something instead of asking it to perform like it hasn’t.

Pain doesn’t always come from injury.
Sometimes it comes from carrying too much, for too long, with no off switch. Til next time gang, take gentle care of yourselves, and each other!

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The PTSD Plot Twist: How Nearly Dying Made Living Feel Impossible

August 1, 2025 JoLeave a comment

The unexpected psychological aftermath of medical trauma that nobody warns you about.

You’d think that surviving something as dramatic as your heart stopping would make you grateful for every breath, right? That’s what everyone assumes. That’s what I assumed. But here’s the plot twist nobody talks about: sometimes surviving the unsurvivable doesn’t make you appreciate life more—it makes living feel impossibly dangerous.

Welcome to the mind-bending world of medical trauma PTSD, where your brain decides that since you almost died once, you’re probably about to die again. Any minute now. Maybe even right now while you’re reading this.

The Science Behind the Psychological Sucker Punch

Here’s what the research says about cardiac arrest survivors that no one mentioned in the hospital discharge paperwork: the prevalence of PTSD among us is high. Like, surprisingly high. Studies vary, but they all agree it’s not just a few people who “can’t handle it.”

Even worse? PTSD in cardiac arrest survivors is linked to a significantly higher risk of another heart event or death within a year. So, while your brain is tormenting you with the idea that you’re going to die… that very torment might actually make you more likely to die.

It’s psychological Russian roulette, designed by a trauma specialist with a PhD in irony.

When I first woke up, I was full of gratitude. My brain was too busy relearning how to walk and do basic things to spiral about what almost happened. But once the dust settled? That’s when the fear moved in.

The Hypervigilance Trap: When Your Body Becomes the Threat

Hypervigilance means constantly scanning your surroundings for danger. But when the danger came from inside your own body, where exactly are you supposed to feel safe?

Every chest flutter is a heart attack. Every dizzy spell is a stroke. And don’t even get me started on tracking your own breathing. Your body becomes a 24/7 threat detection system, and you’re the one being surveilled.

I drink water like it’s a competition. I got a fitness tracker. I monitor every symptom: is that back pain from fibro, chronic kidney disease, or something more sinister? Often, I’ve just pulled a muscle from existing too hard—but my brain doesn’t buy that.

The Symptoms No One Prepares You For

We all know PTSD comes with flashbacks, nightmares, and anxiety. But medical PTSD has some bonus round features:

Medical Setting Panic: The sound of a heart monitor beep? Instant terror.
Body Betrayal Complex: Your once-trusty body now feels like a traitor.
Gratitude Guilt: You’re supposed to feel thankful, but mostly you feel terrified. Then you feel guilty about not feeling thankful. It’s like emotional inception.
Hypervigilant Exhaustion: Your body never relaxes, so your muscles never heal. Which means you always hurt. Which means your mood crashes. And the cycle repeats.

When I close my eyes, I don’t see calm or rest. I see regret. Unfinished business. Conversations I didn’t have. My muscles are always clenched. If I’m always hurting, I’m always depressed—and if I’m depressed, I’m even more tense. Rinse and repeat.

When Existing Conditions Complicate the Picture

If you already had health issues, medical trauma PTSD is like throwing a grenade into a house of cards. For me, fibromyalgia, ADHD, and bipolar disorder were already hard enough. Add PTSD?

ADHD + Hypervigilance = Brain ping-pong with a side of dread.
Bipolar + Trauma = Racing thoughts that might be mania or might be panic. Who knows?
Fibro + PTSD = Every ache becomes a “what if.”

The Irony of Fighting Fear While Pretending You Aren’t

The most exhausting part? You know it sounds ridiculous. You know your stats. You know not every chest tightness is a heart attack. But logic doesn’t matter. PTSD doesn’t speak statistics.

So you’re fighting fear with one hand while pretending to be okay with the other. Panic attack on the inside, small talk on the outside.

The Treatment Nobody Mentions

Here’s a shred of hope: studies show mindfulness-based therapy can actually help cardiac arrest survivors manage PTSD. It’s not one-size-fits-all, but it’s a start.

The problem is, most doctors don’t screen for PTSD after a medical event. They’re focused on your physical recovery. The emotional wreckage? Not on the chart.

Living in the Plot Twist

Some days, I can go hours without mentally scanning every inch of my body. Other days, it’s like I have ESPN for doom.

The real twist? Surviving doesn’t always make you feel grateful. It can make you feel fragile. And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe we don’t need to bounce back stronger. Maybe we just need to keep going, scared or not. That’s resilience too.

The Ongoing Experiment

Every day, I try to live without panicking about living. Some days I fail. Some days I don’t. But I’m still here. Still experimenting. Still trying. Til next time gang, you’re not alone, take care of yourselves, and each other!

If you’re navigating this too, you’re not broken. You’re not being dramatic. You’re surviving something nobody talks about.

Sources:

Columbia University Department of Psychiatry – Mindfulness-based Therapy for Cardiac Arrest Survivors
PubMed – PTSD in Cardiac Arrest Survivors
American Heart Association – Psychological Impact of Cardiac Arrest
Cleveland Clinic – PTSD Symptoms and Treatment
Mayo Clinic – PTSD Causes and Risk Factors
Bay Area CBT Center – Understanding Hypervigilance
Balanced Awakening – Hypervigilance and Trauma

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When the Doctor’s Office Becomes a Battlefield: Understanding Medical PTSD

February 13, 2025February 15, 2025 JoLeave a comment

Ok gang, let’s get real about something that doesn’t get nearly enough attention: medical PTSD. If you’ve ever left a doctor’s office feeling dismissed, doubted, or downright defeated, you’re not alone. For those of us with chronic illnesses and invisible conditions like fibromyalgia, bipolar disorder, autism, or ADHD, the healthcare system can feel less like a safety net and more like a minefield.

What Is Medical PTSD?

Medical PTSD is what happens when repeated negative experiences with healthcare providers leave you emotionally scarred. It’s not just about a bad appointment here or there—it’s about the trauma that builds up over time when your pain or symptoms are brushed off as “nothing” or “all in your head.” Spoiler alert: it’s not in your head.
For many of us with invisible illnesses, this is an all-too-familiar story. Bloodwork comes back fine? Must be nothing. Physical exam looks normal? You’re probably exaggerating. And suddenly, you’re left questioning your own reality because someone with a stethoscope couldn’t see what you’re feeling every single day. The number of times I’ve left a doctors appointment shaking my head saying ‘well, I mean if it WAS something wouldn’t they see it?’ No, thats not true, some stuff is tricky and it hides behind stuff. Some times you have to poke around at stuff until you figure it out, that doesnt mean things arent there to find.

Truth Bomb: Invisible Doesn’t Mean Imaginary

Here’s the thing: just because something doesn’t show up on a test doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Fibromyalgia doesn’t light up on an X-ray. Bipolar disorder doesn’t leave a trail in your bloodwork. Autism and ADHD don’t come with flashing neon signs saying, “Hey, I’m here!” But that doesn’t make them any less valid—or any less debilitating.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked into an appointment armed with symptom logs, research, and sheer determination, only to be met with raised eyebrows and the dreaded “It’s probably just stress.” Or, ‘well you DO have Fibro’ Oh really? Because last time I checked, Fibromyalgia didn’t cause my hip to stage a full-blown mutiny (looking at you, early retirement hip).

The Emotional Toll of Being Dismissed

Let me paint you a picture: You’re already dealing with chronic pain, fatigue, mood swings—basically the greatest hits of invisible illness. Then you muster up the courage to seek help (because let’s be honest, even making the appointment feels like climbing Everest). You sit there, vulnerable and hopeful, only to be told your symptoms don’t add up or aren’t serious enough to warrant concern.

That kind of dismissal doesn’t just sting—it leaves scars. Over time, it can make you hesitant to seek care at all. Why bother if no one’s going to listen? But here’s the kicker: avoiding care can lead to worsening symptoms and even more complex health issues down the line. It’s a vicious cycle that needs to stop.

Breaking the Cycle: Advocacy and Awareness

So how do we fix this mess? For starters:

Trust Your Gut: If something feels wrong in your body, it probably is. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

Document Everything: Keep a symptom diary so you have concrete evidence to back up your concerns.

Bring Backup: Take a trusted friend or family member to appointments—they can help advocate for you when you’re feeling overwhelmed.

Seek Second Opinions: If one doctor dismisses you, find another who will listen. Your health is worth fighting for. Though check with your doctors office or hospital system on policies, my doctor of 7 years dropped me because I got one.

And let’s not forget the role of healthcare providers in this equation. Doctors need better training on invisible illnesses—period. They need to understand that just because they can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. A little empathy goes a long way.

My Own Battle Scars

I’ve got plenty of stories I could share about being dismissed by doctors (and believe me, I will). Like the time I was told my fibro pain was just “overexertion” when I hadn’t done more than shuffle from my bed to the couch all week.
Or when my bipolar symptoms were brushed off as “just moodiness” because I happened to be having a good day during my appointment. Yes its about highs and lows but there is so much nuance and theres no way to catalogue each patient’s symptoms into a graph saying which predominant symptom is worse from day to given day, I don’t even know a metric you could rate them on, its just too much.
But perhaps the most frustrating moment was when my hip—yes, my actual joint—was screaming for help, and I was told ‘Well, fibro is painful.’ said sincerely with a hand on my shoulder (do not touch a fibro sufferer there and expect to be conveying sympathy or empathy, its like my BIGGEST tender point, which I never mentioned SPECIFICALLY so I let it go, but you wouldnt do that)
Spoiler alert: it wasn’t just fibro; it was my hip waving its white flag and demanding replacement parts.

The Bottom Line

Medical PTSD is real, and it’s time we start talking about it. For those of us living with chronic conditions and invisible illnesses, advocating for ourselves isn’t just an option—it’s a necessity. So keep pushing for answers, keep telling your story, and never let anyone make you feel like your pain isn’t valid.Because at the end of the day? We know our bodies better than anyone else ever could. And who can tell your story and explain your pain better than you? Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!