YOU DON’T HAVE TO SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT

Share your story series: Unseen symptoms, learning to slow down to move forward, & building a support system

“You can still be all you want to be. You just have to take care of yourself along the way.”

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MY NAME IS EMMA DOYLE & THIS IS MY STORY.

NAIA Division I Soccer \ Central Methodist University

I had my first episode at 14, was diagnosed at 16, I’m 21 now, and three years into my collegiate soccer career. That is a sentence I never thought I would be able to say.

In the summer between eighth grade and freshman year, I began having isolated instances of lightheadedness and dizziness. I attributed them as a fluke or symptom of dehydration. But, as my freshman year began the episodes became weekly, and then nearly daily. It was then that I became anxious and started to believe something could actually be wrong. Trouble was, I didn't know who to talk to so I could take my concern seriously as there were no visible symptoms. I carried myself as if I was fine, while in reality I was panicking on the inside. It became near impossible to get through a day of school, practice, or other extracurricular without feeling my head go numb and my heart rate increase as if I was about to pass out. By my sophomore year, I was at the nurse’s office almost daily and was picked up from school early twice a week, only for the episode to subside as soon as I got home. This led to breakdowns, crying, wondering why this was happening to me, what I did to deserve it, and how to make it stop. It felt like my entire life was consumed by these episodes that no one could see or understand, including myself. I felt hopeless and like my life as I knew it was over.

At age 16, I found some relief in finally getting diagnosed. The nurses performed an episode-inducing test to confirm my condition, and then left the room before coming back in and handing me a thick, poorly printed packet with the word “POTS” at the top in bold letters. Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. It can also cause feelings of anxiousness, nervousness, and overall sickness. In this moment, I felt both relieved and devastated; relieved that there was an answer to the way I had been feeling for two years now, and devastated because I believed my dreams of playing college soccer (or even going to college) were off the table. That I would always be confined to the parameters of this disability. Why me?, I thought again. 

The rest of high school I tried to get through day by day. COVID made both school and the recruiting process for college soccer tremendously more difficult, and my POTS remained just as debilitating. When I began to question if all these dreams were worth it was when I knew I had lost who I was in this disability. Regardless of those feelings, I ended up committing to a school, telling myself maybe all of these anxious feelings would go away by the time I had to leave for school and I could carry on with life as “normal”. 

The summer before I left for college, any mention or thought of the word “POTS” would leave me with a lump in my throat and a weight on my chest. I felt like my dreams had to be set to the side, because my condition would define me and my limits anyways. It has taken me five years to realize that that could not be further from the truth. POTS is the reason I began seeing a psychologist; they told me POTS was a gift given to me to teach me how to put myself first and take care of myself the way I take care of others. This was the start of the process of learning to prioritize myself. POTS has become the reason I still play the sport I love today, when I believed it would be the reason I wouldn’t. It is the reason I have met some of the most incredible and inspiring people I know. It is the reason I see people and situations the way I do, and the reason I have aspirations for my career to help connect people and be a voice for others. It has made me who I am, and not in the way I thought it would. POTS did not become my identity, however, it shaped it tremendously.

The struggle for me was reforming the idea that I wanted to be “strong” enough to “conquer” POTS, to then move past it and forget about it. But what I needed to learn was that there was nothing to conquer or beat, but only something to accept and love. The theme of my journey boiled down to the question - “Why would I be scared of something that is a part of me?”

Navigating athletics was the largest hurdle for me; Learning that slowing down to take care of my body was necessary to be able to excel at my sport and play in college. I had to learn that doing things differently is not a bad thing, and does not mean you are less than or weaker as an athlete, teammate, or person. The idea of success and playing at the next level doesn’t usually associate with having to “slow down”, however, had I not taken the time to learn how to care for my physical and mental health, I would not be able to say I am now three years into my college soccer career.

The purpose of sharing this story is to remind any reader that their struggles do not need to be visible to anyone else to be valid. You are worth support and priority regardless of what you’re dealing with. Asking for help is a show of strength, not weakness. However difficult these conversations can be, they are so important for not only your safety but your quality of life. Share what you are willing to share, and field any questions with the idea that your best interest is at the core of it. In my own experience, telling my teammates has been overwhelmingly positive and has greatly helped in my comfortability with my condition. Ultimately, the earlier you begin growing your support system, the earlier you begin to self-instill the idea that you are worthy of receiving all the help and support available to you, and the more abundant it will become. 

I felt compelled to write this blog because I know there are athletes, and people alike, in similar situations who need to read things like this instead of sifting through pages of bullet points typed on a thick, poorly printed packet with the name of their disorder at the top in bold letters,  like I had to. I believe that community is the greatest resource in cases like mine - real people telling their real stories— that will be the key in changing the stigma around physical disabilities and illnesses, especially ones that appear invisible, having limited resources or help available to them. 

So maybe you are a fellow POTS friend, or maybe you are dealing with a long-term injury, a mental health crisis, another type of condition, or maybe something completely different, but, whatever your situation, let my message be just as loud: You are more than worthy. Ask for help. Say you are struggling. Put yourself first for the sake of your health and happiness. You are still valid as a human and as an athlete even if you do things differently than others. You can still be all you want to be. You just have to take care of yourself along the way. 

You have come a long way - and you still have a long way you will go.