FOMO, YOLO, and the Crash: The Chronic Illness Cycle No One Warns You About

Brainy, Bendy, and Burnt Out: Why I Keep Overdoing It Anyway

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You know that meme about being "a houseplant with complex emotions"? Yeah. That's me.
Except sometimes that houseplant rips itself out of the pot, throws on real pants, and charges into the world screaming, "I still exist!"

Living with chronic illness is like walking a tightrope between desperately craving normalcy and being sucker-punched by reality.
And lately, I've realized there's a deeper layer: ADHD.
(A fresh, shiny diagnosis to add to my rare disease Pokémon collection.)

Turns out, my brain isn’t just craving basic routines to keep me afloat — it’s also fiending for excitement. Novelty. Stimulation. Something, anything, that's not my couch, compression socks, or heating pad.

Here’s How It Goes:

• Weeks of flare hell = stuck at home, drowning in my "sick person routine": meds, rest, tiny manageable tasks.

• One day: A spark. A craving. A "Screw it, I'm going out!" moment.

• I do something fun: brunch! Target trip! Lunch with a friend!
  (Maybe even two errands if I’m feeling extra spicy.)

• My body, later: "You absolute fool."

• Cue: Days (sometimes weeks) of recovery — bone-crushing fatigue, amplified pain, and the humiliating reality that I’m not, in fact, normal.

Why I Do This (Even Though I KNOW Better)

I crave stability.
But not too much.
Because ADHD and chronic illness together = this paradox:

• I need routine like oxygen.

• I need a little thrill like a junkie.

Too much of either? I lose it.
Too much boredom? I explode out of my safe cocoon like a zebra on Red Bull.
Too much excitement? I collapse back into said cocoon, swearing I’ll never leave again.
Rinse, crash, repeat.

The Cycle Looks Like This:

Routine ➔ Boredom ➔ Impulse ➔ Overexertion ➔ Crash ➔ Routine ➔ Boredom ➔ Impulse ➔ Overexertion ➔ Crash ➔ [cue tiny zebra sobs]

Honestly, it’s kind of like living inside one of those spinning carnival rides where you're plastered against the wall by centrifugal force — but somehow you keep buying tickets to ride again.

Learning to Spot It (Before It Steamrolls Me)

Lately, I’m trying to:

• Notice when the boredom is getting dangerous ("Maybe I could organize a parade today!")

• Plan tiny "safe" adventures instead of full-blown field trips.

• Tell someone ahead of time when I’m about to make a FOMO-fueled decision.

• Build "planned recovery days" into my schedule, like a secret handshake with future me: "Hey, you’re going to need this. Trust me."

It’s not perfect. The cycle is still there.
But at least now I see it for what it is: a dance, not a failure.

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My Chosen Alternate Ending: YOLO With a Backup Plan

Look — you can’t shrink your life down until it’s “safe” enough.
You’ll suffocate.
We’re still allowed to live.

So yeah, I’m still going to say YES sometimes. I’m going to chase that slice of normalcy.
I'll dance in the rain — I’ll just maybe bring a folding chair and a heating pad with me next time.

💬 If you’re living with hEDS and ADHD too, drop a comment:
How do you manage the brainy + bendy chaos?
I’m still learning, and I’m here for all the hacks, warnings, confessions, and wild success stories.

We don’t have to do this alone — even when it feels like we’re the only zebras spinning on this weird carnival ride.