2024 brought incredible travels and unforgettable adventures, for which I am truly grateful. However, it was also a year that came with its own set of personal challenges.

If we connected this year, you probably heard all about our insane year of action-packed travels and adventures. But you’ve also likely heard me mention how uncharacteristically exhausted, drained, and foggy I was feeling.

Maybe I made excuses for my fatigue. I might have blamed the jet lag or trekking at 17,000 feet elevation. Or maybe it was nightmares and poor sleep from camping and residing in different accommodations every night. It turns out those factors didn’t just contribute to my exhaustion, fatigue, and brain fog. They were signs of a more significant issue.

The first sign of something serious, beyond the usual high-altitude symptoms, came during my annual blood work. Just seconds into the draw, my blood stopped flowing into the vial, and the procedure was halted. When we checked my blood pressure, it was dangerously low—85 over 45. As a result, my phlebotomist couldn’t complete my lab work.

New symptoms continued to appear. I experienced light-headedness, dizziness, near-fainting spells, and even brief episodes of blindness. My body temperature fluctuated wildly, and I struggled to regulate it.

Despite a low heart rate, I had difficulty catching my breath, whether climbing stairs or simply walking across the room. Transitioning from sitting to standing would trigger my body’s fight-or-flight response, with adrenaline surging through me and my heart rate spiking from 60 to 110 in seconds. Gut issues became my new normal, while my feet, ankles, and legs experienced tingling, pins-and-needles sensations, along with discoloration and swelling.

Introducing POTS:

In 2024, my doctor diagnosed me with a “moderate to severe” case of Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS). By the time my doctor confirmed it, I wasn’t surprised. A quick Google search of my symptoms had already pointed me in that direction. I had been living with POTS for some time, and it seemed to be getting worse.

For those who aren’t familiar, POTS is a form of dysautonomia, a disorder affecting the autonomic nervous system. This system controls functions we don’t consciously think about, such as heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, sweating, and digestion. Factors like anemia, low weight (BMI), and higher elevations can complicate POTS. Unfortunately, all are complications I deal with regularly.

Fatigue, forgetfulness, and brain fog—common symptoms of my low blood pressure—are some of my most challenging aspects of living with POTS. However, the grief I feel over my body not functioning as it should is also a significant struggle.

I often find myself catastrophizing, overwhelmed by the fact that my body can’t do what it’s supposed to. Even though POTS isn’t terminal, it sometimes feels like my body is shutting down and my health is slipping away. I’ve spent too many days this year mourning the loss of my healthy body and grappling with the grief that comes with it.

Living With POTS:

While POTS isn’t curable, it is manageable—though I’m still figuring out the “manageable” part!  

Exercise is essential for managing POTS, but the symptoms can make it especially challenging at times. While I won’t let them stop me, they do slow me down and often leave me feeling drained, with little energy for other tasks. Cardio and strength training are non-negotiable for me, though, because without them, my symptoms worsen—and so does my mental state.

Beyond my workouts, I’m also focusing on prescribed lifestyle changes.

I’m keeping my weight and iron levels up, drinking 10-14 cups of water daily, increasing my sodium intake to between 3,000 and 10,000 mg a day, avoiding alcohol, limiting exposure to hot weather and hot showers, baths and hot springs, wearing compression socks, standing up slowly, and pumping my legs before standing.

To address my POTS digestive issues, I’m now tracking how my symptoms relate to what I eat. I’m also eating smaller, more frequent meals whenever possible.

Everything Changes…

This past year has been a powerful reminder that “Everything Changes.” Living with POTS has humbled me, teaching me to let go of what’s beyond my control.

In the coming year, I hope to focus on how much I have to be grateful for beyond my physical health—my friends, family, access to medical care, and the freedom my unstructured lifestyle provides.

I also want to remain thankful for how well my body continues to serve me, despite my POTS diagnosis. I won’t take for granted that while living with POTS, I was able to trek the Salkantay Pass in Peru at 17,000 feet or complete the Tour du Mont Blanc this past summer, trekking through France, Switzerland, and Italy while circumnavigating the majestic Alps.

As I’ve said before, I am not my illness. My illness does not define me. I will remain grateful for what my body still allows me to do. I will listen to and honor my body when it is struggling. And most importantly, I will learn to surrender to whatever challenges lie ahead.

Happy New Year, my friends. Cheers to health, love, adventures, meaningful connections, and mastering the art of surrender in 2025!