Step Into My Compression Socks: How An Average Day With POTS Really Feels

Living with POTS means waking up in a body that doesn’t play by the rules.
This isn’t an overreaction – it’s a real medical condition that can upend every part of your day. For a moment, I invite you to step into an ordinary day as if it were your own body dealing with POTS. Feel what it’s like to function while your heart races, your vision blacks out, and your energy disappears without warning.

This is the inside view – not a checklist of symptoms, but the lived reality – so you can understand a little more about what it’s like, whether you have POTS yourself or care about someone who does.

Alarm Bells: You’re Dying… Or At Least That’s What It Feels Like

Let’s begin with a little bit of context. You know those dramatic medical shows where a patient is bleeding out on the table? Alarms are blaring, doctors are rushing around, the heart rate’s spiking, and the patient’s fading fast. Then someone swoops in with IV fluids or some other emergency fix to bulk up the blood volume, and everyone can finally breathe again.

Living with POTS can feel a bit like that – but without the big rescue scene or the “all clear” moment. It’s more like a slow-motion version of that emergency, one that never really ends.

So What Is POTS?

POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) causes a rapid heart rate when standing, but that’s only part of the story. It’s a form of dysautonomia – dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system (ANS), which controls heart rate, digestion, temperature, and more.

The ANS is a complex network that controls nearly every part of the body. Think of it as your body’s autopilot, quietly managing automatic functions you don’t have to think about—like heart rate, breathing, digestion, blood pressure, sweating, temperature, circulation, and hydration. It adjusts instantly when you stand up, step into the sun, or start running.

With POTS, the autonomic nervous system has been damaged. Though it still tries its best, it often overcorrects like a wobbly seesaw, making automatic body functions unpredictable. This means symptoms can vary widely from person to person.

Part of this variability comes from different underlying causes, or subtypes; but no matter the subtype, the core problem is the same. Blood isn’t reaching key organs properly. When this happens, the body sends out “danger” signals as if in a real emergency – and for people with POTS, intense feelings much like panic that come with this can be an everyday reality.

When Loved Ones Don’t Seem To “Get It”

POTS is a chronic, invisible condition – less visible than a broken leg, but often much more painful in the long run both emotionally and mentally, especially when people don’t believe you. It’s why it can really hurt when loved make thoughtless remarks or seem to think we’re being dramatic.

Having lived with POTS for nearly a decade, I’ve seen symptoms dismissed and struggles misunderstood—even by friends, family, and doctors.

So all I ask is that you read with care.

It’s often hard for someone with POTS to explain how they feel—everyone’s experience and every day are different. But I have a good sense of what your loved one might be going through.

If they shared this article, it’s not to guilt or pity you – it’s because they want to be understood. We deeply appreciate every moment you spend trying to understand what we’ve spent years trying to understand ourselves.

Step Into My Compression Socks

If you don’t have POTS, take a moment to imagine a very different life – one where your education was cut short, and your health, athletic abilities, memory, and diet aren’t what they used to be. You’ve had to make major changes, even to your career – lucky to have just enough energy to work – but none of this was by choice.

Imagine your body has been uncooperative for some time. You’ve received a POTS diagnosis, but your doctor isn’t sure what to do next. You’re hoping a new medication might help, but so far, nothing has worked — and at times they’ve only made you feel worse. You’re at a point where you’ve accepted this new reality. You’re hopeful things might improve, but for now, most days are about simply getting through.

Step into our shoes — or more accurately, our compression socks — and imagine living a day with POTS. Don’t just think about what your loved one feels; imagine how you would feel. Take a look at life from the inside.

Mornings Are Hard: How It Feels To Wake Up With POTS

Mornings are still the hardest part of your day.

There was a time when your symptoms were so bad you could barely get out of bed at all. Back then, each morning started with frustration and self-criticism. Things are a little better now, and you try to get moving as soon as you can – starting with a slow sip of electrolytes.

Your family has noticed a quirk: you avoid loud alarms at all costs. To them, it’s puzzling.

To you, waking up to one feels like being hit with a sudden surge of adrenaline – enough to leave you shaken before you’ve even sat up.

This morning, you’re groggy because last night you woke up far more times than you’d like to have – each time the thumping of your chest louder with every heartbeat against the stillness of night… You’ve learnt to calm your body from the almost random spikes of adrenaline, breathing deep to fall asleep again – but you still remember most of your wake ups…

At midnight you dreamt you were laughing with your friends – your heart rate peaked so high from the excitement it woke you up.
At 1am it was the noise of a cat meowing.
At 2am it was a light turning on.
At 3am it was your own digestion – the adrenaline made the peristalsis in your guts feel so loud that for about 10 minutes straight, your energy levels were the highest they’d been for 24 hours – before you crashed right back to sleep.
And at 4am your bladder hurts from being so full. (You do your best to stay on top of hydration, and this is what you get?) You grip the walls in the dark to steady yourself as you head to the toilet, arched over and heart thumping.
From 5 a.m. onward, you finally drifted into your deepest sleep – until someone’s alarm cut it short.

In a normally functioning body, you’ve learnt, the autonomic nervous system has already been gently waking you for hours. Around 6–8 a.m., cortisol hits its peak – it’s your body’s way of telling you automatically – it’s time to get-up-and-go! Along with your circadian rhythm, it helps you feel alert, stabilize your blood sugar, and keep inflammation in check. Your family wonders why you seem so groggy in the mornings nowadays – “it’s time to get up!” they shout – they are ready for the day.

It’s just that, now, with your POTS, for you that system doesn’t quite work right.

For you, your cortisol seems unpredictable. Lately you seem to get this jolt of energy around 9pm… it’s time to get-up-and-go! You’re never sure which kind of day it will be – but you do try your best to keep a routine that works for you, managing it day by day as the symptoms come.

There is one thing you know for sure though: that your body’s idea of “awake” doesn’t tend to match the clock – and that’s the reason why you avoid it.

So instead of a lifestyle that requires early morning alarms, you have tried your best to adapt. You’d do anything to have a flexible schedule and a remote job – because standard 9–5 hours are that brutal – and for now you work hybrid. Today’s your day to go in, and through the night, you were also mentally preparing for the day ahead.

As you yawn and stretch, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you pop your electrolyte drink down on your table. It helps your head feel a little clearer, and you finally gather the mental strength to stand up; but now your body releases its next rush of symptoms.

The simple act of standing up is the reason your heart has now begun to race: it’s not a great day when you immediately feel dizzy, nauseated, there’s a stabbing pain in your chest, and your vision – it’s starting to go dim. But that’s today.

You’ve learnt that this is the biggest hurdle of the day: there is no greater adjustment that the ANS has to go through than rising from your bed – sometimes it feels infuriating – because you haven’t done anything wrong to cause this… your body is simply misbehaving and you didn’t get a vote. But you know that if you can get over this little mountain, you can face anything today.

So as you lay back down, dizzy, you sip more fluids, and pop on some compression stockings that are laying by your bed. Then you try again — slowly.

Achievement Unlocked: How It Feels To Shower With POTS

Eventually, you work up the energy to take a shower.

Warm water soothes sore muscles, but it also dilates blood vessels. You’re prepared for what that means: more blood is about to pool in all the wrong places — like your legs and feet — leaving less for your brain and heart.

For a long time, you had to choose between either having it hot and sitting on the floor – because you want to warm up your icy hands and feet – or you choose to keep the water lukewarm, and sit on the floor. But after a while, you got sick of doing that, and bought yourself a shower chair… and now, you don’t have to sit on the floor!

But your family did look at you sideways – something you were afraid of.

“Do you really need that?” they keep prodding. “It’s annoying being left in there!“

You keep trying to explain how much it helps, but they just don’t seem to get it. Part of you has come to accept that they probably never will – but deep inside, you hope that maybe it will just take some more time.

It’s not like you don’t feel strange and a little bit sad that you need tools like this to be able to function… you do! But then again, standing in the shower? It’s just not an option anymore. As soon as you’re stood under that warm water, you just can’t predict when your vision will black out again, so you figure, better be safe than sorry in a room full of hard tiles.

So you get on with it and you try not to raise your arms too much, because even that movement is enough to drain a little more blood away from the brain. You watch as the redness in your hands keep changing with the movements, and you pace yourself to make sure the dizziness doesn’t take over.

All the while, it seems quite impossible to wash your hair without it feeling like a workout all on its own.

After your shower, you really notice how your hands and feet have become tomato red – the heat has caused blood to pool in your extremities – it doesn’t exactly hurt but it doesn’t feel right either – so they feel tight and maybe a bit heavy.

You head to the bedroom to lay back down, still wrapped in your towel, feet elevated, trying to catch your breath after your shower. Your brain detaches a little, dissociating – on days like this, your reminded of how surreal your new reality is.

This wasn’t always your life.

A Hidden Struggle And A Sideways Glance: How It Feels To Work When You Have POTS

You’ve got responsibilities now. Work. School. Life. You feel nauseous – maybe from not eating, maybe from eating. It’s so hard to tell. You nibble something, take anti-nausea meds, and toss extras in your bag, along with water and salt packets — your daily survival kit. You get dressed, hiding an abdominal binder under your shirt – you feel the difference it makes with blood pooling through the day, but you know it will have to come off in a few hours – you find it also restricts your breathing a bit too much.

You count yourself lucky, you have a desk job, 3 days from home and 2 from the office. It helps that you can sit for work – it always takes less energy than standing.

“How you doing?” your coworker greets you in the morning.

“I’m great!” you lie with a smile. You’ve learnt to hide your real feelings from people who won’t get it.

Sometimes you try to remind yourself what everyone else seems to constantly tell you – well it could be worse. You imagine what it would be like if you had to stand for work – a nightmare!

Standing still is so much worse than even walking – if you had to work standing at checkout counter you don’t know what you’d do.

In reality, you know you’d sneak moments to sit — even on the floor, if it came to that. You know it’s realistic because sometimes you already do.

Sometimes your symptoms just hit you and you find yourself crouching, trying not to faint.

It’s not exactly professional.

And your boss? Not exactly understanding.

He doesn’t seem to get it. You see him watch you get up, and you can’t quite understand the look on his face. You imagine his words “You walked into the building, didn’t you? You have legs, right?“

What he doesn’t seem to understand is how standing up for the stand-up meeting makes your brain fog up so badly you forget basic words. Or when you lose track of tasks mid-sentence. Or you keep having to rewrite that email because you’re not sure if you forgot something obvious. And you make lists – endless lists – and then often overestimate what you’ll actually be able to do – your head always has more ideas than your body can deal with. You’re not really used to its new limits.

By lunch time, even if you’ve been sitting all morning, sipping your drinks, nibbling on the occassional salty snack, you feel like you’re running on fumes instead of air. Your chest feels almost hollow. You know this means you really need to lay down.

If you can, you find a secluded spot to lay down for a bit – the car is good. You prop your feet up on the dash, lay the seat back, and finally feel some relief. Blood is reaching your brain again. For the first time in hours, you can finally breathe deeply. You don’t want to get up.

As you sit there, you pull your lunch out and start to have a nibble.

It’s a warm day – and you know that heat worsens your symptoms – so you turn up the AC, sipping on an ice cold ginger beer you picked up from the vending machine to try and help with that queasy feeling you’ve had since waking. Finally, your nausea starts to go away. You sigh relief as you head back inside and hope that feeling doesn’t return soon.

After a little while, your coworkers start to notice how you’re sitting weird in your chair again.

You always seem to have your feet up, stretched out, or cross-legged. For you, it’s just automatic. Your body’s learned to compensate for poor circulation. You don’t even think about it anymore. To everyone else… well, you can guess what they’re thinking, or maybe you hear them whisper. “Who does she think she is, lazing around as if she’s at home?”

Today, you just sip your electrolyte drink, trying to mind your own business and keep your lunch down… they don’t understand the half of it.

Then 15 minutes later, you’re running to the bathroom again.

Your boss gives you another sideways glance – it’s the already third time before lunch. The look is drilled into your brain and you know what it means: “Do you really need that many bathroom breaks? Maybe drink a little less water?“

Sorry, I can’t help it. I need the fluids – but they don’t stay.
They never really absorb.

Your eyes plead silently – “I promise, I’m giving this job my all.”

The Stationary Struggle: How It Feels To Exercise With POTS

You’re done with work for the day and feeling exhausted, but the doctor recommended trying some gentle exercise. So you got yourself a stationary bike a while ago.

Today, your willpower is strong and you fight against your fatigue – you get on and pedal.

20 seconds. 30 seconds. Breathless. Dizzy. You push through to one minute, maybe two.

That’s all you’ve got — but you’re happy.

You get off the bike moments before your body tries to black out and lay down on the floor, propping your feet in the air to try and combat your symptoms. You wiggle them about with satisfaction, relieved for the moment of respite.

You sip on your electrolytes, as you lay under the cool air conditioner. You’re aware of how pathetic it looks to anyone else watching — once upon a time, you could keep going and going, but that was then and this is now. This is real progress.

Once you recover, you head past the kitchen and finally have a chance to lounge across on the couch for a moment — you need it.

Nowadays, your family is knows to be really proud of you for what you just accomplished.

In the beginning, they weren’t always so understanding. Their words still echo from those times they looked at you – disappointed, accusatory – and said,“how could you possibly consider that exercise! “

For a while they kept telling you to give it more effort — but you did give it your all.

And today, you broke your record!

You keep smiling, optimistically, trying not to let those memories get the better of you.

Tomorrow, maybe you’ll be able to do 90 seconds.

Sometimes The Microwave Wins And That’s Okay: How It Feels To Cook With POTS (Not That Kind)

Dinner’s running late now — your nausea is starting to rear it’s head again and now you know it’s really time for food. But if you were running on empty before, you’re not sure what to call it now.

You contemplate:
Do I really want to stand over a hot stove?
Maybe I can sit on a stool while chopping?
Maybe I just order takeaway — but that keeps adding up.
Okay… maybe I just make some toast and try to get by?

But… you know toast won’t cut it.
Your heart’s been racing all day, and your body is screaming for nutrients.
You know that if you want to have a better day tomorrow, you have to take care of yourself now.

You look inside the fridge to find it mostly empty. You’re startled as you notice an unusual bottle on the shelf – moisturiser!? You must have accidentally put away in there, in a fuzzy moment of rush-cleaning yesterday – you start laughing so hard you have to sit down.

There, now sat in front of the freezer, you open it and – luckily – you find a spare meal you can defrost in the microwave. You even decide to slice up some fresh carrot to have on the side – fancy!

That’ll have to do, you think to yourself.
Maybe I’ll try to cook a big batch of something on the weekend.

They Only See the Good Days: How It Feels To Socialise With POTS

As your halfway though your dinner, your phone dings.

You half-smile as your bestie texts you “Hey, want to go out tonight?”

You’re so thankful you still have friends that haven’t forgotten you or left you behind.

And in all honesty, you’d really love to go out.

But you just know you can’t. You’re already spent.

You say no.

You feel awful for bailing again. You hope they understand – because you know not everyone does. Eventually, when you say no enough, you’ve learnt that some of them stop asking. They think you’re a flake, or a bore.

They don’t see how hard things have become.

Because you look fine. Especially since you only leave the house on good days… you always end up cancelling on the bad ones.

Budgeting For Energy: How Doing The Groceries Feels When You Have POTS

As you’re sitting on the couch, you pop a few of your daily supplements and vitamins as per your doctors orders – hoping they’re helping – when you realize you’re overdue for a grocery trip… but of course, even that takes planning.

“Do I carry reusable bags so I don’t have to walk the cart back later? Or will I need the cart to lean on today?”

At times, you’ve contemplated buying yourself a wheelchair, walker, or cane for times like this — maybe you already did. But it hurts every time someone sees you pull it out of the back seat. You can feel their eyes on you like daggers.
“I just saw her walk — why is she using that? She’s obviously not really disabled.“
You don’t understand why some people can’t just treat you with a little dignity. What does it matter to them if you need a little support now and then? The embarrassment is often enough for you to avoid using your aids, even though you could really do with them.

But for now, you decide to just make a list, carefully thinking out each step, to keep the trip as short and efficient as possible. You know that leaning, reaching, bending — even just the walk in from the car park — every movement makes you a little more lightheaded and saps a bit more of your energy.

As you go over your list a few times to check you didn’t miss anything (because you know you always do), you start to wonder if you really have the energy for this trip.

Spoiler: you don’t.

You’re still learning to pace yourself, so you take a moment to reason with yourself: “I already showered, worked, and exercised today – and that was a lot.”

So, you make a choice: you pull out your laptop and opt for grocery delivery instead. You lay down and start clicking away.

You’re so thankful it’s even an option. You’re willing to pay a little extra money you don’t necessarily have for it — or miss out on a few items if you have to.

And it’s not just about convenience.

This is saving you energy you don’t have.

“Thank you internet.”

When the Fog Clears, the Grief Begins: What Night Time Is Like With POTS

For the first time all day, you feel awake. As you lay down, it feels like blood is finally reaching your brain properly — and now your thoughts won’t stop firing. You’re full of ideas. How can you possibly sleep like this?

After lying there with your eyes shut for a while, to no avail, you pick up your phone and start scrolling. Medical papers. Forums. Videos. News articles. Anything that might help you understand your condition better. You quickly realised the most reassuring and validating information doesn’t come from medical websites — it comes from your peers. The others living this too. You’ve had a hard time coping but hearing other people’s stories helps you feel less alone.

As you’ve learnt more about your condition, you also start to feel a responsibility you never felt before. One of support to others who you can see are struggling even more. You spend hours replying to people online, sending them encouragement, sharing what you’ve learned.

Ironically, the forums run by doctors and nurses can sometimes feel the least understanding – and the most hurtful.

Fakers. Malingerers. Attention seekers. Trend followers. Munchausen’s.

You think to yourself“Seriously?”

“Seriously“.

You get where the stigma comes from. Even your own family sometimes says you’re obsessed — that they’re sick of hearing about your condition. So you try your best to just shut up about it.

Tears well up as you lie there in bed, exhausted by all of it.

The truth is, that this condition does feel like it has taken over your life. Every moment seems dedicated to challenging your own body’s new limits.

Over time it’s started to isolate you, as now you spend more time at home recovering than with friends. It’s sapped your energy, you could once in time dance for hours, now this. You look back and remember how it seemed like you used to get so many opportunities you took for granted. You don’t seem to get those quite so often anymore, now that your days are mostly stuck at home.

Wouldn’t anyone in your position try to make sense of it? You never chose this.

You know you’ve had better days, and you’ve had worse too.

You hear a knock on your door, as your loved one steps in.

“Are you okay?” they ask, a worried look in their eyes. “I bought you some electrolytes”

“Thank you,” you reply, reaching out to embrace them.

You shut your eyes, thankful for the ones who do care.

With their help, you know you’ll get through tomorrow.

To the People Who Care About Me — Thank You for Trying to Understand

If you’ve read this far, it means you care — and that means everything.

Living with POTS affects each person differently, and often it’s just one part of a bigger health picture. Many people with POTS also face challenges like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), allergies, autoimmune conditions, and more. Whether you have POTS yourself or care deeply about someone who does, this glimpse into a day with POTS is a chance to see the world through their eyes.

Use it as a starting point to open honest conversations:

• Is this how POTS feels for you?
• Is your day better or worse than this?
• What can I do that would truly help?

What helps most is when you:

• Believe us from the start — our experiences are real.
• Respect our limits — we know them better than anyone.
• Don’t guilt us for needing rest — we’re already doing our best.
• Offer practical support instead of quick fixes — trust that we understand our bodies deeply.

POTS can be invisible to the outside world, but for the people who live with it, every day brings real and constant challenges. And yes, some people will point out that there are more severe conditions out there -but thankfully, it’s not a competition. Instead, taking the time to understand shows your loved one they’re not alone – that you’re standing with them, even when the struggle isn’t visible to you.

In a world that can feel like it’s crashing down on top of you, having someone who cares enough to simply listen … that means everything.

Did this article resonate with you? Please leave a comment and let me know how your average day might differ. Thank you.