Imagine stepping out of your car, feeling unsteady, and before you can even catch your balance, someone accuses you of being drunk. That happened to me. And it broke me.
I wasn’t intoxicated—I was simply trying to function with a brain tumour growing on my hearing and balance nerve. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Their judgment shattered my confidence. I was already battling daily to stay upright, to move without falling into walls and furniture, to keep pushing forward despite my body’s betrayal. That comment was the final blow. I stopped driving. Stopped trusting myself. Stopped believing I could manage.
When you live with a vestibular disorder—whether from a brain tumour, an injury, or an illness—people don’t see the struggle. They don’t see the way the world tilts when you turn your head too fast. They don’t see how every step feels like walking on shifting ground. They don’t feel the sheer exhaustion that comes from having to think about every single movement you make, just to stay upright.
The Hidden Battle of Balance Disorders
Most people take balance for granted. It’s automatic. You stand, you walk, you move—no conscious effort required. But when your vestibular system is damaged, balance is no longer something you have; it’s something you have to fight for.
Every. Single. Day.
Simple things—brushing my teeth, bending down to tie my laces, stepping off a curb—require twice the effort. A trip to the supermarket? I’m hanging onto that trolley for dear life! My brain has to work overtime to compensate for what’s missing. And the fatigue from that? It’s on another level. (I’ve written an entirely separate blog on that for The Beyond Recovery Project, because it’s such a huge part of my life.)
And training? That’s not just about endurance or performance for me. It’s about survival. Because if I don’t work at it every day, I regress—fast.
The Injuries No One Talks About
Losing your balance isn’t just frustrating—it’s dangerous. Often, you see the victories on social media, but there’s a lot you don’t see… Over the last few years, I’ve torn ligaments, broken bones, and ended up bruised and battered more times than I can count. Because when you fall unexpectedly, you don’t always get the chance to protect yourself.
I’ve fallen down stairs. Tripped over nothing. Banged into doorways. Swerved or fallen sideways mid-run, usually into wall, fence or hedge. And the worst part? I can’t always see it coming.
That’s the reality of living with a balance disorder. It’s not just dizziness. It’s the constant risk of injury, the bruises that appear without you even realising you’ve hit something, the sheer unpredictability of your own body.
Rebuilding Confidence, One Step at a Time
Getting this far has taken a long time.
It has taken me some years to stop letting this condition dictate my life. Years to rebuild my confidence. Years to find ways to adapt, retrain my brain, and keep moving forward.
Some of the things that have helped me the most:
✔️ Balance training – I didn’t realise how much this helped until I was coached by Jon Fearne. Standing on one leg, using wobble boards, and practicing controlled movements – with and without weights. And most definitely yoga…
✔️ Eye movement exercises – Training my brain to process motion more efficiently. I continue to use the flash cards given to me by the physiotherapist at Salford Royal Hospital, Manchester.
✔️ Strength and core work – Because the stronger I am, the more stability I have. I think that regardless of vestibular disorders, this is something we should all be doing in order to maintain quality of life as we age.
✔️ Gradual exposure to motion – Instead of avoiding what makes me dizzy, I’ve had to lean into it to retrain my brain. It’s often pretty unpleasant. There are still situations and activities where my brain just can’t seem to process what’s going on around me quickly enough. But, it works. I’ve got my top running speed down from a 10:30 min/mile to 7:30 min/mile before I have the urge to throw up in the nearest hedge.
It’s not a quick fix. It’s not something I’ll ever fully recover from. But it’s something I’ve learned to work with instead of against.
Endurance Training: The Unexpected Lifeline
Pushing my body to its limits in endurance challenges might seem counterintuitive when I already struggle with something as basic as balance. But in many ways, endurance training has saved me.
It’s taught me resilience. It’s given me back my confidence. It’s shown me that I am so much more than my limitations, and that my body is capable of so much more than I ever thought.
Without training, and having someone who I’m accountable to, I would have resigned myself to staying at home and watching daytime TV a long time ago… Ok, maybe not the daytime TV. That would be pretty desperate – I’d had enough of that in the run up to my surgery!
I know many of you feel that what I do is extreme. In some ways, I suppose it is. However, doing the ‘extreme’ stuff, helps make the every day tasks easier. Whatever level you are at, as I mentioned earlier, there are things you can do to help improve your balance – even if just a little. Next time you’re brushing your teeth, see if you can do it with one leg slightly off the floor. Walking to the shops? Get off the easy, level pavement and onto the grass verges. It all helps.
Yes, some days are brutal. Yes, the frustration is real. And yes, there are moments where I really do want to give up. But every time I lace up my running shoes or walking boots, every time I step outside despite the fear, every time I cross another finish line, I remind myself: I am still in control of my own story.
And if you’re struggling, so are you. Keep going. It really is worth it.
If you find this content helpful, I would be super grateful if you would consider making a donation towards pulling off my next big challenge later this year, crossing Iceland.