When the World Started Spinning: Goals After Vestibular Neuritis

I have a good life—supportive family, a job I love, decent health. And yet, for months, I felt empty. Here’s why—and what I’m doing with that feeling.

The Day Everything Tilted

It began in January. I stood up, and the room spun like I’d stepped onto a merry-go-round I never asked to ride. The ER called it anxiety. Weeks later—after more spells, nausea, and a growing fear that I was losing myself—we finally learned the truth: vestibular neuritis.

The Hard Part No One Sees

Vertigo. Broken depth perception. Uncontrollable nausea. Suddenly I couldn’t work, look at screens, exercise, or even count on my own balance. Life shrank to the basics: sleep, try to eat, try not to panic.

What made it worse was being told, again and again, that it was “nothing.” That it was in my head. In a way, it was—because the infection was affecting my inner ear and, potentially, beyond. One urgent-care doctor believed me, ordered an MRI, and caught what others missed. I’m deeply grateful to her. Left unchecked, viral infections can lead to serious complications like meningitis. I know how lucky I am.

Rehab Without a Roadmap

Recovery was… foggy. I had little guidance. YouTube videos, articles, and patient stories became my compass. I learned vestibular exercises, how to advocate for myself, and how to communicate with doctors so I’d be heard.

About four months in, the world began to steady. Now, nine months later, I’m mostly back. I still get the “I’m on a boat” sway when I’m tired, and that old nausea sometimes teams up with acid reflux. It’s not perfect, but it’s life. And it’s mine.

The Strange Emptiness After.

Here’s the part I didn’t expect: once the crisis eased, a hollow feeling took its place. Surviving a scare can reorder your insides. I kept thinking, If I got a second chance, what am I doing with it?

That question led me to something that’s always lit me up: travel. Culture. Immersion. The joy of figuring things out in a new place. And it collided with something else I now care deeply about: accessibility. Because travel can feel expensive, complicated, and—if your body is doing weird things—intimidating.

My “Why” (and This Site)

I started this website to give back to the community that helped me heal—and to anyone who’s ever thought, Travel isn’t for people like me.

What you’ll find here:

• Guides to travel
• How to save for travel.
• How increase income
• How to break out from the 9-5 life.

I’m not here to gate keep. I’m here to demystify. If my story taught me anything, it’s that community knowledge saves time, money, and sometimes sanity.

Thank you to the doctor who believed me. And to the internet strangers who showed me the way back.