27/03/2026
I haven’t seen many speak about what happens after a big event or trip because it really isn’t pretty.
I woke up drenched in sweat from trauma fuelled nightmares, just as exhausted as the night before. Covered in painful bruises I can only guess are from fighting in my sleep, desperately trying to escape.
I didn’t want to eat but forced myself up despite the nausea and headache setting in. The world was too loud and bright, an onslaught against my fragile senses making me dizzy.
My vision wasn’t working and I couldn’t understand sound properly. Words had no meaning. Nothing made sense and I felt disconnected from the world, unable to even think.
I crawled back into bed and longed to be normal, grateful I wasn’t in total agony yet. Completely burnt out. It lasted for days.
It’s vulnerable to share but an inherent part of CVI that’s rarely highlighted, the intensity misunderstood. It’s a whole body condition that drains us entirely.
People don’t seem to realise that with CVI, even doing things for fun is a massive effort with a huge cost.
Everything takes its toll and you will pay the highest price. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Despite the best preparations and mitigations, you will suffer.
Was it worth it?
I don’t know. I probably won’t remember this trip next month.
But if I never do anything, I won’t have lived.
[Image: Lauren, who has brown hair tied back and sunglasses, pictured with her boyfriend Brad, who has a beard and wears a backwards baseball cap. A pink cherry blossom tree at the edge of a lake is visible in the background. The couple smile, arms around each other.]