Living with PTSD means my body is always one step away from full-on shutdown. Chronic fatigue isn’t laziness—it’s my system crashing after I’ve spent hours (or days) in fight-or-flight, just trying to keep it together. Most people never see the trigger, because I’m good at looking composed. But when the wrong environment hits, I can get triggered multiple times a day, every day. Each flare can take up to a week to recover from, and it stacks.
Here’s what a bad flare really looks like: It might start with a text or a call that brings up a bad memory, or being around people who don’t respect boundaries. My whole body tenses, and adrenaline dumps like I’m about to run for my life. I can feel shaky, dizzy, sometimes nauseous or outright sick. My muscles get weak, my head pounds, and thinking straight is impossible. Even basic things—like standing up to shower, making food, or answering messages—feel like climbing a mountain. Sometimes, I can’t even talk without effort.
The energy drain is so bad I can barely move. Showers get postponed, and I have to use adult sanitary wipes until I have the strength to stand up long enough. Cooking and cleaning can feel impossible. I do what I can—Effexor, Wellbutrin, and collagen protein in tea help, but nothing is perfect when my body is running on empty.
On top of it, I’m much more prone to dehydration, especially in hot weather. If I get overheated or miss a meal, I might start vomiting repeatedly. It can look dramatic—people think I need a hospital, but usually what I really need is electrolytes, cooling off, and time for my body to stabilize.
Most people don’t realize when I’m triggered because I keep it together on the outside—I’ve had years of practice at composure. But the truth is, the wrong environment can trigger me over and over, sometimes multiple times a day, every single day. The impact adds up. What looks like “functioning” on the surface can actually mean I’m spending all my energy just holding it together. Sometimes I’m still dealing with the aftershocks days later.
It’s hard, because the struggles are invisible to most people. On the outside, I look like I’m just tired or maybe not trying hard enough. On the inside, it’s a war to keep going, one that nobody else can see.
If you know someone dealing with this: • Believe them • Offer practical help (sometimes, that means electrolytes, not ER trips) • Understand that “composure” can hide a lot of pain
This is what surviving actually looks like—messy, exhausting, and very, very real.
#PTSD #ChronicFatigue #InvisibleIllness #SurvivorTruths #Dehydration #SupportMatters