Self-Love in Chronic Illness: What POTS Taught Me About Listening, Pacing, and Staying Hydrated

Self-Love in a Body with POTS: Learning to Listen, Pace, and Nourish Ourselves 🤍

For so long, many of us were taught that self-love looks like bubble baths and positive affirmations. That it’s something soft and pretty and optional — a luxury we indulge in after we’ve worked hard enough, pushed far enough, proved enough.

But living with POTS changes that story.

When you have Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, your body does not let you ignore it. It doesn’t allow you to bulldoze through exhaustion or override dizziness with sheer willpower. It whispers at first. Then nudges. And if you keep pushing? It demands to be heard.

And somewhere in that process — in the slowing down, the recalibrating, the surrender — we begin to understand something profound:

Self-love isn’t pushing harder.
It’s listening.
It’s pacing.
It’s giving our bodies what they need.

And that realization changes everything.

The Old Definition of Strength

Before POTS, strength may have meant productivity. Hustle. Being the one who always says yes. The one who powers through. The one who shows up no matter what.

We’re conditioned to admire endurance. To celebrate “no days off.” To wear exhaustion like a badge of honor.

But POTS has a way of humbling that mindset.

When standing up makes your heart race. When a hot shower feels like a marathon. When grocery shopping requires a recovery day. You quickly learn that pushing harder doesn’t earn you gold stars — it costs you dearly.

And so strength begins to look different.

Strength becomes sitting down when you feel the wave coming.
Strength becomes canceling plans without apology.
Strength becomes drinking water before you feel thirsty.
Strength becomes planning rest the same way you once planned productivity.

It’s quieter. But it’s real.

Listening to the Body Instead of Fighting It

Living with POTS teaches us to tune in.

We become deeply aware of the subtle shifts — the slight head rush, the creeping fatigue, the heaviness in our limbs. We learn the language of our own nervous systems.

And here’s the thing: that kind of awareness is an act of self-love.

Because when we listen, we’re saying, “You matter.”
When we respond, we’re saying, “I’ve got you.”

Instead of fighting our bodies for not behaving “normally,” we begin to work with them. We build routines around what supports us. We adjust expectations. We give ourselves permission to exist exactly as we are.

It’s not giving up.
It’s choosing partnership over punishment.

And that is powerful.

Pacing Is Not Laziness — It’s Wisdom

One of the hardest lessons POTS teaches is pacing.

In a world that glorifies constant motion, pacing can feel like falling behind. It can feel like you’re not doing enough. Like you’re somehow less capable.

But pacing isn’t about limitation. It’s about sustainability.

It’s recognizing that you have a finite amount of energy — and choosing to use it intentionally. It’s spacing out tasks, building in rest breaks, and knowing that tomorrow matters too.

Pacing says:
“I want to feel okay later.”
“I respect my limits.”
“I am allowed to protect my energy.”

That isn’t weakness. That’s maturity. That’s self-respect. That’s love.

And over time, you start to see that honoring your limits actually expands your life. Because instead of crashing and burning, you create rhythms that support you. You build days that are gentle instead of punishing.

You stop living in survival mode.

Hydration as a Daily Act of Care

For many of us with POTS, hydration isn’t optional. It’s foundational.

Our bodies rely on consistent fluids and electrolytes to function more smoothly. Staying hydrated can make the difference between a manageable day and one that feels overwhelming.

But here’s the shift: hydration isn’t just a symptom-management strategy.

It’s a ritual of self-love.

Every time we reach for water, every time we mix in electrolytes, every time we prioritize fluids before leaving the house — we’re making a choice.

We’re choosing care.

That’s why staying hydrated with Enact has become such an important part of my daily routine. Not because it’s trendy. Not because it’s another thing to “optimize.” But because it supports what my body genuinely needs.

Instead of treating hydration as an afterthought, I treat it as nourishment. As protection. As preparation.

It’s part of my morning rhythm now — a small but meaningful act that says, “Let’s set ourselves up for success.”

And in a life with POTS, those small acts add up.

Redefining Productivity

POTS also teaches us to redefine what a “good day” means.

A good day might not be a packed calendar.
It might be:

• Drinking enough fluids.

• Taking breaks before symptoms spike.

• Moving gently instead of intensely.

• Saying no without guilt.

• Eating regularly.

• Going to bed before exhaustion hits.

And that counts.

There is something deeply healing about celebrating these quiet victories. About recognizing that tending to your body is productive. That stability is an accomplishment.

When we stop measuring our worth by output and start measuring it by alignment — by how well we honored ourselves — life feels softer. Kinder.

More sustainable.

Self-Compassion on the Hard Days

Not every day will feel balanced.

There will still be flare-ups. Still be frustration. Still be moments of grief for the version of life you imagined.

And self-love doesn’t mean pretending that’s easy.

It means holding yourself gently in those moments.

It means letting the tears come without labeling them as weakness. It means ordering takeout when cooking feels impossible. It means grabbing your Enact, refilling your water bottle, and climbing back into bed without shame.

It means understanding that your body is doing its best — even when it feels like it’s betraying you.

Self-compassion is not self-pity. It’s self-alignment.

It’s saying, “This is hard. And I’m still worthy of care.”

The Empowerment in Listening

Ironically, the more we listen to our bodies, the stronger we feel.

Because listening builds trust.

We learn what helps. We learn our triggers. We learn how to prepare before long outings. We learn that hydration before standing, salt with meals, rest before exhaustion — all of these choices give us more stability.

And stability creates confidence.

We may not control POTS. But we can influence how we respond to it.

That’s empowerment.

It’s not about conquering our bodies. It’s about collaborating with them.

Loving Ourselves as We Are

Perhaps the most transformative lesson POTS teaches is this:

We are worthy of love and care exactly as we are.

Not when we’re more productive.
Not when we’re less symptomatic.
Not when we “get better.”

Now.

In this body.
On this day.
With this capacity.

Self-love becomes less about aesthetics and more about alignment. It’s found in the water bottle on your nightstand. In the electrolyte packet in your bag. In the reminder on your phone to sit down. In the boundaries you set without apology.

It’s in choosing Enact because you know hydration supports your nervous system. It’s in planning rest the same way others plan workouts. It’s in building a life that fits your body instead of forcing your body to fit a life that hurts.

That is radical.

That is brave.

That is love.

A Softer, Stronger Way Forward

Living with POTS reshapes us.

It slows us down — but it also deepens us. It strips away illusions about endless energy and replaces them with something more grounded. More intentional.

We begin to see that the goal was never to push until we break.

The goal is to live well.

To wake up and ask, “What does my body need today?”
To answer honestly.
And to follow through.

Maybe that means extra hydration.
Maybe that means Enact first thing in the morning.
Maybe that means rescheduling.
Maybe that means celebrating a small win.

Whatever it looks like, it counts.

Because self-love in a body with POTS isn’t loud. It’s steady. It’s thoughtful. It’s consistent.

It’s choosing to listen when the world tells you to push.

It’s pacing when the world tells you to hurry.

It’s nourishing yourself when the world tells you to prove something.

And that kind of love?
It’s not just warm and fuzzy.

It’s powerful. 🤍