Krista Lauren

Ten years ago, my life changed forever. I got sick with POTS, I still have it, and it is just a part of me now.

This experience has taught me so much. I have been through hell and back, but conquered something harder than challenges most people twice my age had ever experienced. I would be lying if I said something cliché like, “Looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing,” or, “Getting sick has been worth it.” Has it made me a stronger person? Undoubtedly. Perhaps, a kinder and more empathetic person? Also, absolutely. But it was not easy and still is not easy. I still have issues with pain, for one. Beyond that, though, I missed out on several years of life that felt like crucial years. My twenties stopped before they even really got started, and I did not have a normal path forward. Most people in their twenties travel and see the world. They start a first job they can feel proud of, and have career goals. Twentysomethings go to parties, they bar hop, and dance the night away. I loved all of that before I got sick. Instead of doing what I had been dreaming of, I struggled with my health and completely skipped over experiences that would have been normal for my age group. I fought for my life at the gym, and worked my way up to being able to write more. I will speak about my “career” as a writer another day. Today, I want to share the most important things I learned from getting sick with a debilitating illness at 22 years old… And remember — this is a happy post, as I am doing worlds better at 32. If you are one of the people who reads this because we have connected in the POTS community, please do not give up hope. We can get so much better and live a life that we never even dreamed was possible.

Learning from Adversity

Life is fragile, but people are resilient. At 22, I learned that I was, in fact, not invincible. I was fearlessly going down double black diamonds in Park City, Utah my third time ever skiing (Fast! I was truly fearless to the point of stupidity) and believed nothing bad could happen to me, as many young people do. I trusted a man in London to lead my lost (and very tispy) friend and I home without trying anything funny in the dark alleyways we wound through.

When you are young nothing can happen to you — until it does. The girl who had run a half marathon just weeks prior could no longer walk down the driveway to the mailbox. I had a resting heartbeat in the 50s, that changed overnight to be over 100. I worked out five times a week because I loved to run. I didn’t realize at the time that I would still be unable to run a mile ten years later.

My body was very broken. I have spent years piecing it back together. I am still not back to “normal.” I still have a very high heartrate (that only leaps insanely higher when I stand), my blood pressure still drops suddenly, and I still have POTS symptoms — that manifest primarily as chronic pain. I do not remember the last time I slept through the night. But I am doing so much better than I was a decade ago. I am tearing up while writing this, because I feel so blessed. I remember very clearly what it was like not being able to keep my eyes open in a bright room because of the headaches the lights caused. I remember feeling like the room was constantly spinning for over a year, even when I was lying down. I always told people that having POTS was like being drunk and hungover at the same time, without the benefit of the “fun factor” involved with alcohol.

Things matter a lot or not very much. There is no in between.

The things that go into my “a lot” category are my family, my friends, animals, and how I make other people feel. Having fun and being lighthearted matters a lot, as do traveling and adding new life experiences to the vault. My little everyday life with my husband and two dogs matters a lot, even when it only involves a good morning kiss, a walk in the evening, and an activity before going to bed that night. Sleeping next to each other matters a lot. “I love you’s” and a hand on my knee while watching TV matters a lot. Stolen kisses and t-shirts mean a lot, and even the smallest acts of service mean a lot. Doing nothing together means everything.

Evenings watching The Bachelorette and dessert and dinner dates with my mom matter a lot. Game nights matter a lot. Trips to farmers markets matter, new hobbies matter, and phone calls with loved ones matter a lot. These are all things that make up life, that make up relationships, and that add love to life. One thing I learned is that the little things matter the most because they make up your life.

Things that do not matter are silly frustrations that every day gives. The annoyance dirty dishes (or the task of then cleaning them, which happens to be my least favorite chore!), sitting in traffic when I would rather be at home, making the dreaded phone calls that do not give you someone to talk to, even when you shout “Representative!” at the top of your lungs, and running out of batteries when you thought you had more do not matter. Losing power for the day is an inconvenience, but does not matter in the grand scheme of things. Letting little things roll off your back is important because we are lucky to have those as the largest inconvenience. Great problems are those that cannot be fixed — like illness and death. I remind myself how horrible it was to feel ill all the freaking time and feel blessed to be able to do dishes or drive myself to run errands.

Work matters, but it matters most to help support the life I have formed with family, not because of what I do every day. Because at the end of the day, if I died tomorrow, my company would put up a job advertisement and find someone else who can handle the task of writing and editing. I am one in a million to them, but I am irreplaceable to the ones I choose to spend my free time with.

Your dreams change, and that’s okay. I got sick with POTS right before I was slated to move back to New York City. I had just completed an absolute dream internship with Seventeen magazine and was interviewing for a permanent position there. I loved the content that I was able to write about and had many ideas to keep new ideas going. I was obsessed with all aspects of journalism — both broadcast and print — and wanted to continue an extremely fast paced job in the greatest city on earth. My heart beat for New York. Maybe that’s why it ended up not being able to keep up following my time there.

I work as a government contractor now, and really do enjoy what I do. The content is not something I am particularly passionate about, but I am actually interested in it, and it pays the bills. As someone who was completely disabled for years, I am so freaking proud to have a full-time job. I worked hard and through a lot of painful days to get here. I don’t know how much anyone knows about the internal strength I have needed to get here.

I still have plenty of time to do things that I love, and that is what I consider my “important” time. Work is something that I want to excel at while I put my time into it, but no more. I want my heart to be etched with people I love, not with the scars of a stressful job. I think it is important for you (yes, YOU) to realize that our time here is limited. We don’t ever know what crazy thing might hit us and turn life around. I would not be where I am today without my family helping me stay positive throughout the years that were the darkest and hardest. Surround yourself with amazing people and don’t wait to chase your dreams. Also, though, don’t worry if your dreams have to change to fit in other ones. I don’t have New York, but I have the best life and feel so freaking lucky. Ten years later, I am happy. I am so blessed.

Pictures from The First Year

Thank you for following along my journey — through life, love, and everything else. I keep publishing because I keep seeing my little views and know we have some people peeking in on me here.