The Hidden Cost of Showing Up.

I’m sitting here in the audience, waiting for the holiday show to begin. My heart is brimming with excitement as I anticipate the music, the laughter, and the sparkle of the season reflected on stage. These are the moments that bring me joy and remind me why I push through the hard days.

Yet alongside the joy, there’s another truth I carry. Living with a vestibular condition and anxiety means that even something as beautiful as this comes with a cost. I know I may pay for it afterwards, whether it’s dizziness, exhaustion, or the quiet unraveling that follows overstimulation.

What makes this bittersweet is not only the struggle itself, but the way it’s often invisible. When a condition can’t be seen, it’s easy for others to assume there’s nothing wrong. They see someone showing up, smiling, clapping, and they don’t realize the preparation it took to get here, the inner negotiations, or the recovery that will follow.

That invisibility can be its own burden. It’s hard to explain that showing up doesn’t mean it’s easy. Choosing joy doesn’t erase the struggle, it means carrying both at once.

I share this because I know many live with unseen conditions, and the misunderstanding we face can be just as heavy as the symptoms themselves. Still, we keep showing up. We keep choosing joy, even when it costs us.

So tonight, as the lights dim and the music begins, I hold both truths: the sweetness of being present, and the resilience it takes to sit here. This is the paradox of invisible conditions, joy and struggle, side by side. And both are real.