Embracing FND Support: My Journey to Healing and Thriving

Functional Neurological Disorder (FND) entered my life unexpectedly, reshaping my professional path and personal identity in profound ways. I had started my career as a recreation therapist, helping individuals find healing through movement, creativity, and connection. Later, I transitioned into psychotherapy, a field that deepened my understanding of mental health and the human experience. However, nothing prepared me for the intimate and challenging journey of becoming a patient myself.

This journal entry is a reflection on my lived experience with FND—an account of the steps I took toward healing, the support systems that sustained me, and the creative outlets that helped me reclaim my sense of self. My hope is that by sharing this journey, others navigating FND will find encouragement, validation, and practical insight

Early Steps Toward Recovery: Reclaiming Movement and Independence

In the initial stages of my diagnosis, even the simplest tasks felt monumental. I vividly recall the early days when walking to the mailbox required careful supervision by a loved one. Each step demanded focus, each movement a conscious effort. At the time, these short walks felt like small victories—proof that progress, however incremental, was possible.

Gradually, those brief outings evolved into longer strolls around the neighbourhood. I began to feel more confident in my body’s ability to move, even if unpredictably. It was as though I were unlocking new levels in a game, each block walked was a milestone in my recovery. Eventually, I reached a significant turning point: I began using public transit again. Navigating the transit system for errands was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, but it marked a return to autonomy that I had deeply missed.

These experiences taught me that healing is not linear. It is a process shaped by patience, persistence, and the willingness to celebrate small wins. For those living with FND, progress may come slowly, but it is no less meaningful.

Physical Empowerment Through Martial Arts: A Therapeutic Outlet

One of the most transformative aspects of my recovery involved engaging in martial arts—specifically Muay Thai and kickboxing. Initially, I approached these disciplines with caution. Concerns about balance, coordination, and fatigue loomed large. However, I was fortunate to work with a coach who understood my limitations and tailored the training to suit my needs.

Martial arts provided more than physical exercise; they offered emotional release and psychological empowerment. Each punch and kick became a metaphor for resilience. I was not merely exercising—I was reclaiming agency over my body and mind. The rhythmic movements improved my hand-eye coordination, enhanced my balance, and gave me a renewed sense of strength.

For individuals with FND, physical activity can be both therapeutic and empowering. When supported by knowledgeable instructors and adaptive environments, movement becomes a tool for healing rather than a source of fear.

Creative Expression as Medicine: Art, Audiobooks, and Nature

As my physical capabilities fluctuated, I turned to creative expression as a consistent source of comfort and healing. Art became a sanctuary—a space where I could explore emotions, process experiences, and reconnect with joy.

Crochet, once a casual hobby, transformed into a gentle exercise for my hands. The repetitive motion helped strengthen my fine motor skills while offering a meditative rhythm. Painting, on the other hand, allowed me to immerse myself in colour and texture. It was a world where tremors and pain could be momentarily forgotten, replaced by brushstrokes and imagination.

When fatigue made it difficult to engage physically, audiobooks became my refuge. Listening to stories provided mental stimulation without the strain of reading. The narrators’ voices became companions, guiding me through fictional worlds and offering solace during difficult days.

Gardening also played a pivotal role in my recovery. The act of tending to plants—feeling soil, observing growth, and nurturing life—grounded me in the present moment. Nature offered a quiet form of support, reminding me that healing, like growth, takes time and care.

These creative outlets were not merely distractions; they were integral components of my support system. They allowed me to express myself, manage symptoms, and maintain a sense of purpose.

The Importance of Social Connection: Building a Supportive Community

Living with FND can be isolating. The symptoms are often invisible, misunderstood, and unpredictable. For this reason, cultivating a supportive social network became essential to my well-being.

I prioritized spending time with individuals who made me feel safe, accepted, and understood. Whether through casual conversations, shared laughter, or silent companionship, these interactions provided emotional nourishment. They reminded me that I was not alone, even when my symptoms made me feel disconnected.

Support came in many forms: friends who checked in regularly, peers who shared similar experiences, and professionals who offered guidance without judgment. Each connection reinforced the idea that healing is a communal effort, not a solitary endeavour.

For those navigating FND, I encourage you to seek out relationships that uplift and validate you. Whether through support groups, therapy, or informal gatherings, connection is a powerful antidote to isolation.

FND Support: A Multifaceted Approach to Healing

Reflecting on my journey, I recognize that support for FND must be multifaceted. There is no universal solution, no single path to recovery. Instead, healing emerges from a tapestry of experiences—physical, emotional, creative, and social.

My progress was shaped by adaptive movement, expressive art, immersive storytelling, grounding in nature, and meaningful relationships. Each element contributed to my resilience, offering unique forms of support that addressed different aspects of my condition.

It is important to acknowledge that FND affects individuals differently. Symptoms vary, responses differ, and needs evolve. Therefore, support must be personalized, flexible, and compassionate. What works for one person may not work for another, and that is perfectly acceptable.

The key is to remain open to exploration. Try new activities, seek diverse forms of support, and listen to your body’s cues. Healing is not about perfection—it is about persistence, adaptation, and self-compassion.

Final Thoughts

As I continue my journey with FND, I am reminded of the strength that resides in vulnerability. This condition challenged me in ways I never anticipated, but it also revealed depths of resilience I had not yet discovered.

Support has been the cornerstone of my recovery. From martial arts to audiobooks, from gardening to friendship, each experience has contributed to my healing. These tools did not eliminate my symptoms, but they helped me navigate them with grace and determination.

To fellow FND warriors, I offer this reflection as a testament to your strength. You are not alone. Your journey is valid. And your healing is possible.

Let us continue to rewrite the narrative of FND—one step, one breath, one connection at a time.

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Key Takeaways

• Recovery from FND is gradual and deeply personal - Progress often begins with small steps, and healing requires patience, adaptation, and celebration of each milestone.

• Support must be multifaceted and tailored to individual needs - Physical activity, creative expression, and social connection each play a unique role in managing FND symptoms.

• Creative outlets offer emotional and therapeutic benefits - Art, audiobooks, and nature provide grounding, comfort, and a sense of purpose during challenging moments.

• Connection reduces isolation and strengthens resilience - Building a supportive network fosters emotional well-being and reminds individuals with FND that they are not alone.