Graves’ Disease, Chronic Illness and The Nervous System: 5 Healing Lessons from a Therapist’s Journey

What if your symptoms were also a form of wisdom? What if illness was a teacher, not just a disruption? As a therapist living with chronic illness, I’ve learned a lot from both the clinical and personal sides of healing. July was Graves’ Disease Awareness Month, and throughout that month I spent time reflecting on the lessons that living with Graves’ has taught me. To all those who are navigating life with a chronic illness or autoimmune disease, here are the five learnings I return to most often, professionally and personally. I hope they meet you where you are.

Your body follows nature’s rhythm, not society’s timelines

1. You are nature. Act accordingly! I thought I grasped the fact that we are nature, but I’m humbled and taught, again and again, daily, that we truly, deeply are. Throughout my work with clients, and in navigating this stuff myself, I am reminded often. So much so, that I’ve started inviting a check-in question to the therapy room for clients to contemplate: In what ways are you allowing yourself to live as nature today? To ebb, to breathe, to break down, to become again? Nature needs time to breathe, to be nurtured, to expand and contract, to explore, scan, grab towards the outside world and to curl back in. To feed, to process, to digest all that was gathered. Why would we, or this process, be any different? It’s the part-whole, whole-part type perspective that we’re inviting in. A part is never fully understood without the context of the whole, and the whole is shaped by its part, yet each part reflects the structure or nature of the whole. So how are you titrating between your internal needs, the coziness, the contraction, and feeding on the outside world, leaning on your support system, or looking at the big picture? How are you balancing this independent kind of responsibility that navigating chronic illness or autoimmune puts on you, and simultaneously learning to better lean on, trust in, and invite in the idea of unity? Big questions, I know. This is part of the work I do with my clients in session as they navigate these deeper truths and complexities of themselves, and of the world. Welcoming the iterative process of zooming in on details (parts) and zooming out to see the full composition (whole), is an ongoing, important part of the process of navigating life with chronic illness. You are learning all the time, through decomposition and synthesis, like an iterative process. Said more simply, where are you trying to be a machine, when you are actually a forest, an ocean, a garden?

Self-expression is nervous system regulation

2. Self-expression isn’t “extra.” It’s essential nervous system care. Inviting in play might sound like an absurd recommendation right now, I know. Hear me out, though, it’s science. Plus, what’s the alternative? Might as well give it a try, because at the very least, it’ll serve as a distraction (I promise you, though, there’s so much more to it). Movement, art, speech, playing dress up with clothing, accessories, general authenticity – these replenish your life force energy and help your body produce hormones that support you like a mama supporting her baby. Like drinking water or a delicious juice packed full of nutrients. If you’ve spent years bracing, hiding, or shrinking, however, it might not feel soothing at first (most of us humans who experience chronic illness can relate to patterning through one of those words/behaviors). Expression asks the body to do something unfamiliar: to be seen, to take up space, and to feel. If your nervous system has associated that with danger, like many trauma bodies and brains do, the stress response will kick in when you try it. Cortisol rises, and your amygdala (your brain’s alarm system) goes on high alert. You might feel foggy, shaky, tearful, or overstimulated when you practice playing. Please read this twice – this isn’t failure! It’s the nervous system doing what it was wired to do, to protect you. Over time, with safe, authentic expression, the body starts to rewire. Dopamine returns (motivation, pleasure). Oxytocin rises (connection, trust). Breath deepens, and before you know it, your system is softening. The changes are subtle at first, but the more you play and explore into your authentic self, the more natural and comfortable it will be to do. You’re not just “being creative” by expressing yourself. You’re letting your body know that it is safe to be you. Expression isn’t just emotional, it’s biological. It’s how the authentic self comes back online, and your system needs safety to express freely. Expression tells the body: “You don’t have to hide anymore”. 

Relational pain is part of the healing, not a detour

3. Most people mean well, but we’re not trained as humans to know how to communicate softly, warmly, or deeply. A moment for some relational truth. People really do mean well, and they’re doing the best they can – even when it doesn’t feel like it. So many people have said things that really hurt me over the past three years navigating my diagnosis. I imagine that you can relate? From medical gaslighting, to people claiming to be experts on chronic illness, to not understanding boundaries or that something must be all in your head. Throughout this, you’ll likely notice that a lot of your own wounds can and will come up. They’ll sneak in to say hello to you, in response to others’ responses, and still, people care about you. I’ve had my illness be downplayed and labeled, my ambition feel questioned, and my symptoms be brushed over. Learning more about what your own capacity is while tending to your relational wounds throughout the process, all while navigating answering other peoples’ questions and holding space for their misunderstandings, deserves a medal. It’s a similar thing that happens when you’re grieving someone dying; you’re learning what the hell you’re even doing minute by minute and somehow end up taking care of other people’s emotions along the way. This happens simply because they’re not even sure what to say, or how to help. They don’t mean to make your life harder. If you can, try to look at people and their intentions through the most generous lens possible. We’re all human, we are all capable of missing the mark, and we’re all healing and learning in one way or another. Give yourself, as well as others around you, grace. When you can’t, that’s okay too. You’re human as well. Remember that it’s about compassion, not control, throughout this process.

Slowness isn’t weakness, it’s a trauma-informed pace

4. Slow down. For good. Not during a season, not for a little while, but for forever. In every situation, with every relationship, and especially during moments alone. You’ll begin to notice, first of all, just how scary it might be to slow down (revisit point #2 for the science behind slowing down; it’s very similar to the science of expression). Basically, if it’s not something we’re used to, it might feel terrifying, unsafe, or peculiar at first, which is why slowness is so important. There’s a lot to digest when something is that slow, so it only makes sense that while it sounds great, in practice, it’s often a, “no thank you” kind of feeling that comes from the body when the suggestion is offered. Practice feeling into what it’s like to move slow in a world that moves so very fast, and see where it takes you. This is somatic therapy, this is being in motion.  

Healing is an ongoing process of decomposition and synthesis

5. These learnings aren’t just applicable to living with Graves’ Disease, and I think that’s why a lot of people end up feeling this strange type of gratitude during/after going through something like living with an autoimmune disease. Whether you agreed to it or not, there will be learnings, lessons that are impossible to ignore that you encounter along the way. Whether or not it’s conscious, there’s so much wisdom you’re accumulating. Trust that, play with that, use that. Use it as olive oil for cooking up your next meal of life. Use these learnings as a way to make informed decisions, as your anchor, as your values, as a way to determine and deliver on your own needs. Just like nature, just like life, the leanings will be ongoing, and they are helping you dance into the next season of your life, whether that’s clear to you yet or not. Everything in life is a dance, even this, and you’re still in motion. Even if your diagnosis has you feeling like you’re stopped dead in your tracks. I promise you, you’re still very much alive and moving.

If these reflections resonated with you, whether you're living with chronic illness, moving through a major life transition, or simply remembering your aliveness, you don't have to navigate it all alone. This is the kind of trauma-informed therapy I offer to clients living with chronic illness, nervous system dysregulation, and those seeking to reconnect with their authentic self through a somatic lens. We’ll tend to nervous system truths, reconnect you to your authenticity, and gently rebuild trust with your body and your life.

If you’re curious about working together, I offer a free 15-minute consultation as a chance to explore what support might feel like for you, no pressure or expectation. Just a space to land and be met.

And if you’re craving community on this path, a space to be witnessed, reflect, and feel less alone, I’m launching a small support group for folks living with chronic illness. We’ll dialogue gently and move slowly, together. Think somatic support, nervous system care, shared wisdom, and honest connection. If you’d like to join or learn more, you can reach out to me directly at danielle@knownfullytherapy.com. In the meantime, take care, be well, slow down - and remember that you are never alone.