Slowing down isn’t an option in college, but what if your own body prevented you from keeping up? I live with chronic fatigue, and the phrase “I’m tired” is my existence.

Chronic fatigue isn’t burnout. It’s persistent exhaustion that affects your ability to be fully conscious. A coffee or energy drink might give you a boost to start your day, but caffeine doesn’t make a difference for me. When I wake up, it’s like an elephant is sitting on my chest — it’s hard for me to physically move out of bed. When I do finally get up, everything in my body urges me to lie back down. I’ve spent so many years with my condition but still don’t know when my body will want to wake back up on a daily basis.

My tiredness comes in waves and affects me at different levels and frequencies — I have to mentally fight it to stay physically present, always trying to ground myself. If I’m not taking a walk between classes, I’ll be sipping on water throughout a lecture or squeezing my fingers, stimulating my senses to stay mentally available. It’s like my mind’s on overdrive all the time so that my body doesn’t consume me. I can’t always push my mind to accommodate the physical weight of my tiredness — not to mention the irregular headaches, nausea, vertigo and fevers.

I was only a middle schooler when my chronic fatigue was triggered. My body’s immune system had been rundown after having the SARS virus and my nervous system was in a constant state of fight-or-flight because of my anxiety. And since I was diagnosed, I thought my version of chronic fatigue was the only one.

The only other person I have met who also has chronic fatigue is Olivia Hoyes, a fellow student who can understand my frustrations when other people would usually meet me with blank stares. For Hoyes, it was the onset of puberty that triggered chronic fatigue. She’s the only other person I have met who can understand how isolating chronic fatigue truly is.

Because of little advocacy for researching and accurately diagnosing chronic fatigue, there are no actual treatments for the condition. For Olivia and I, it constantly feels like others think we’re faking our condition — that it must be all in our heads. My doctors, teachers and fellow students haven’t taken chronic fatigue seriously, leaving me feeling almost “dramatic” and guilty for what I have experienced since high school.

If people could understand what chronic fatigue is, then those of us who have chronic fatigue wouldn’t have imposter syndrome about our own syndrome — it’s difficult to speak up for a condition when you think you’re the only one experiencing it, leaving more people undiagnosed or even misdiagnosed.

I saw more than 10 different specialists who all assured me that my condition was not permanent and that my exhaustion would end in about five to seven years, marking it up to typical adolescent stress. It’s been eight years with subtle progress. In Hoyes’ case, she was misdiagnosed with narcolepsy in high school and didn’t receive an accurate chronic fatigue diagnosis until 2022.

When I talk to loved ones who can’t understand my condition from their own experience, it’s like speaking into an endless void. To look physically able without being in total control of your own body is one of the most unexplainable, debilitating feelings. I cover the dark circles under my eyes with concealer and wear mascara to combat the dullness of my eyes — maybe if I didn’t, others might take my condition seriously. But teaching people about chronic fatigue is the only way for them to have compassion about invisible disabilities like mine.

Regardless of what our bodies put us through, people with chronic fatigue are here to stay. As more people are diagnosed with “Long COVID,” they’re also dealing with symptoms — like regular headaches, dizziness, low-grade fevers and shortness of breath — similar to chronic fatigue. Greater attention to the link between chronic pains and serious viral illnesses after could allow other people with my condition to get the validation and actual treatments they need.

If you think you’re struggling with chronic fatigue, routine coping mechanisms will give you stability. Stay overhydrated and keep yourself distracted or find other ways to ground yourself in the present moment. And do not be afraid to ask for accommodations from Disability Support Services. While no single accommodation can resolve chronic fatigue, having compassion for yourself and then receiving it from others can change everything.

I now know that doubting my emotional experience is the most dangerous thing for my body. Like any student, I want to have the energy to experience life beyond campus — all I can do is keep moving forward. Everyone experiences tiredness but not like chronic fatigue.

On one day in each of the past four months, I’ll wake up and feel fully rested, present in my body. Even though there is no guarantee I won’t be tired a few hours later that same day, I can’t help but smile. My chronic fatigue may be here for a lifetime, so I’ll hold on to that one moment I do have.

Jordan Strain, a sophomore majoring in political psychology, is an opinions writer.