What I Do When My Body Shuts Down
PPPD Flare Days
There’s a version of me that functions. That shows up. That moves my body, goes to the pool, lives life in a way that looks “fine” from the outside.
And then there are flare days.
Days where that version disappears without warning.
No gradual decline. No polite notice. Just a full system shutdown.
PPPD doesn’t announce itself. It just flips the switch.
One moment I’m moving through life, and the next I’m horizontal, dizzy, nauseous, and completely disconnected from what I was doing minutes before.
It feels like being caught in a storm at sea no ground, no stability, no sense of direction. Just waiting for it to pass.
And on those days, I don’t fight it anymore the way I used to.
I’ve learned the hard way that pushing through doesn’t build strength. It deepens the crash.
So instead, I do this.
1. I call it early
The first thing I do is name it.
“This is a flare.”
Not a bad day. Not me being dramatic. Not something I can push through if I try hard enough.
A flare.
That shift matters because it changes everything that follows.
I cancel what I can. I postpone what I can. I stop trying to force myself into “functioning mode” and switch fully into regulation mode.
Because continuing to push usually just extends the episode.
2. I reduce everything
Flare days are already overloaded. My system doesn’t need more input—it needs less.
So I strip everything back:
Lights down or curtains closed
No unnecessary noise
Minimal screens or low brightness
A space where I can just exist
The goal is simple: reduce stimulation so my nervous system can stop fighting so hard.
3. I come back to my body, not my thoughts
PPPD has a way of pulling you into panic loops and overthinking. But thinking doesn’t settle a dysregulated nervous system.
So I go back to the body.
Feet on the ground. Support under me. One hand on my chest, one on my stomach.
Slow breathing. No forcing. Just allowing:
In for 4
Out for 6
And simple reminders when I need them:
I’m safe right now
This will pass
Not positive thinking. Just grounding reality.
4. I keep small movement
One thing I’ve learned is that complete stillness can sometimes make things feel worse.
So instead, I stay gently connected to my body:
Wiggle toes
Move ankles
Slow, small head turns if I can tolerate it
Short walks to the bathroom or kitchen
Nothing big. Nothing forced.
Just enough movement to keep my system from locking down completely.
5. I make food as simple as possible
Eating on flare days can feel overwhelming, so I take pressure off completely.
No meals that require effort or decision-making. Just:
Soup
Toast
Yoghurt
Smoothies
Small amounts. Often if needed.
And hydration becomes non-negotiable. Not perfection—just basic care.
6. I don’t follow the mental spiral
This is the hardest part.
Because the mind always wants meaning:
Why is this happening again?
I was doing so well
I’m back at the beginning
But I’ve learned that those thoughts don’t help recovery. They fuel stress, and stress fuels symptoms.
So I interrupt it with one sentence:
“This is a flare, not a failure.”
Not everything needs a deeper story.
7. I re-enter slowly
When things start to ease, I don’t rush.
No jumping back into full speed. No trying to “make up for lost time.”
Just gradual re-entry:
Sit up slowly
Increase light and movement gently
Ease back into life instead of snapping back into it
Recovery isn’t a switch. It’s a slope.
8. I reflect later, not during
Only once I’m clearer do I look back.
Not to blame myself. Not to overanalyse. Just to notice patterns:
Have I been doing too much?
Too much stimulation?
Not enough rest?
It’s about awareness, not punishment.
Final truth
Living with PPPD means learning that stability isn’t constant.
There are good days where I feel capable and connected to life.
And there are flare days where my only job is to get through the next hour.
Both are part of it.
Neither defines me.
Because healing isn’t linear, and strength doesn’t always look like pushing through.
Sometimes strength is stopping.
Sometimes it’s resting.
Sometimes it’s simply staying here until the storm passes.
And that counts too.