Upper leg muscles diagram | | Dizziness Journey

TLDR: I have had non spinning dizziness for 3 years, did every test, saw a world expert in dizziness at Mayo clinic, diagnosed with Panic Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, possibly Vestibular Migraines from a neurologist, but not PPPD, and I accept it finally.
Hello everyone,
I wanted to share my story with dizziness as I have read many others on many different forums and hope that this can help others like others have helped me!
I have experienced dizziness for over three years now (28M) that is non-spinning in nature, it is an up and down feeling like you are on an elevator, on a boat, or walking on sand as some may describe it, typically while walking, standing, or slight position adjustments while sitting or laying down. It has caused anxiety, panic attacks, shakiness, heart palpitations, arm/leg numbess, neck tingling, neck pain, muscle spasms, brain fog, hearing sensitivity, headaches, fevers, and others I am probably forgetting.
I recently visited with Dr. Staab at Mayo Clinic who is one of the best in the world at looking into problems with dizziness, among many countless providers over the last three years. Dr. Staab specifically researches and treats dizziness, and recently diagnosed me with Panic Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, but NOT Persistent postural perceptual dizziness (PPPD) as I don’t completely fit the criteria. The reason I was given was that I did not have a typical reason such as an ear infection or other PPPD pre-cursors, and that certain motion does not trigger dizziness in me like typical PPPD patients (I can play video games and watch movies with no issues). I for sure thought I had PPPD, but regardless, treatment is relatively the same with or without that diagnosis for my symptoms.
The best way it was explained to me was that my initial dizziness episode three years ago was a panic attack where the first symptom was dizziness followed by other physical symptoms, and heightened anxiety/panic over this dizziness caused my body to be overly alert/sensitive to the space/movement around me, creating a loop of constant dizziness. While my anxiety has improved tremendously and I have only experienced less than 10 (being generous with this) panic attacks my whole life, the dizziness has improved but remained, as it is described as basically a residual effect of the initial anxiety/panic attacks that my body has not yet corrected.
I also saw Dr. Beh who is a neurologist that specializes in vestibular disorders and migraines, and he further diagnosed me with Vestibular Migraines (which Dr. Staab says is a possibility but he doesn’t have enough evidence to diagnose me with it).
My current treatment includes taking Venlafaxine (going to 75mg soon) to directly treat the dizziness and help with any remaining anxiety/panic issues, receive therapy (psychoeducation and CBT) by a therapist with a PhD preferably, and vestibular rehab. Dr. Staab also said massages (light on the neck) could be helpful as dizziness can cause neck and back muscles to tighten due to the body stiffening over time to try to avoid dizziness sensations.
I was told to take Vitamin B12 (400mg) and venlafaxine in the morning. In the afternoon I take COq10 (200mg) after lunch and 200mg after dinner. Before bed, I take magnesium glycinate (500mg) and effexor. I take other supplements, but these I specifically take for migraine/dizziness related issues.
I have seen Dr. Staab, Dr. Beh, the Vestibular Psychologist Emily Kostelnik, have watched the Steady Coach on youtube, looked into the dizzy cook, and have seen multiple Neurologists, ENT’s, Cardiologists, PCP’s, Physical therapists, audiologists, gastro’s, even an allergist. I was misdiagnosed with POT’s, but otherwise every test that was done came back normal except that I have a hiatial hernia, fatty liver, low vitamin D, and a deviated septum.
I’ve had the brain scans, blood tests, heart monitoscans/ultrasounds, tilt table, ear tests, balance tests, epley maneuver, rotary chair, basically every test you can think of (some multiple times) and have tried basically every supplements/lifestyle changes you can think of as well. I have also done a lot of the above tests at Mayo Clinic in their dizziness program that I was accepted into in Minnesota.
My dizziness began at work 3 years ago when it felt like I was bouncing up and down just while standing and my body proceded to panic. I went from having this kind of episode once a month, to once every few weeks, to every day, to basically dizzy any time I stood or walked. Because of the dizziness, I stopped going to stores, didn’t shower as much as I should have, did not workout, and took off of work as it was so difficult to just walk. I currently work full time, workout, am in a relationship, and can do so much that I felt like I couldn’t do. I still have days where I need to take a break, and you won’t catch me on a boat for awhile as that triggers me GREATLY!
Two things that have for sure helped me so far, walking and time. Going for walks was a hard thing to start being dizzy, but that is something I can for sure say I’ve noticed helps without a doubt. And time; my dizziness didn’t improve overnight, it’s been three years, and i still deal with it! I’ve learned it isn’t going to hurt me and to simply learn to live with it (for now) and to push myself baby steps at a time.
Also, parasympathetic breathing has helped me tremendously as well as guided meditation to relax and practice mindfulness. I pay for an app called Downdog which has great guided programs (and yoga!) and currently get it for free for being a student.
Don’t give up, even if it feels like you are just trying to survive. Don’t let doctors write you off, advocate for yourself. If the doctor doesn’t listen or help, find new ones. Lean on your support system. Help others and share your story so there is more awareness and research for dizziness. It is one of the most difficult symptoms to diagnose. And it is just that, a SYMPTOM! You are you and not your symptoms or diagnoses!
If you have any questions, I will try my best to respond to everything no matter the question or if it is 10 years from now. There is SO much to this journey, and attempting to fit it into one post feels impossible. One thing that bothered me was people posting about their symptoms and never giving updates/responding to others, so I will try my best to do so…

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

TLDR: I have had non spinning dizziness for 3 years, did every test, saw a world expert in dizziness at Mayo clinic, diagnosed with Panic Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, possibly Vestibular Migraines from a neurologist, but not PPPD, and I accept it finally.
Hello everyone,
I wanted to share my story with dizziness as I have read many others on many different forums and hope that this can help others like others have helped me!
I have experienced dizziness for over three years now (28M) that is non-spinning in nature, it is an up and down feeling like you are on an elevator, on a boat, or walking on sand as some may describe it, typically while walking, standing, or slight position adjustments while sitting or laying down. It has caused anxiety, panic attacks, shakiness, heart palpitations, arm/leg numbess, neck tingling, neck pain, muscle spasms, brain fog, hearing sensitivity, headaches, fevers, and others I am probably forgetting.
I recently visited with Dr. Staab at Mayo Clinic who is one of the best in the world at looking into problems with dizziness, among many countless providers over the last three years. Dr. Staab specifically researches and treats dizziness, and recently diagnosed me with Panic Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, but NOT Persistent postural perceptual dizziness (PPPD) as I don’t completely fit the criteria. The reason I was given was that I did not have a typical reason such as an ear infection or other PPPD pre-cursors, and that certain motion does not trigger dizziness in me like typical PPPD patients (I can play video games and watch movies with no issues). I for sure thought I had PPPD, but regardless, treatment is relatively the same with or without that diagnosis for my symptoms.
The best way it was explained to me was that my initial dizziness episode three years ago was a panic attack where the first symptom was dizziness followed by other physical symptoms, and heightened anxiety/panic over this dizziness caused my body to be overly alert/sensitive to the space/movement around me, creating a loop of constant dizziness. While my anxiety has improved tremendously and I have only experienced less than 10 (being generous with this) panic attacks my whole life, the dizziness has improved but remained, as it is described as basically a residual effect of the initial anxiety/panic attacks that my body has not yet corrected.
I also saw Dr. Beh who is a neurologist that specializes in vestibular disorders and migraines, and he further diagnosed me with Vestibular Migraines (which Dr. Staab says is a possibility but he doesn’t have enough evidence to diagnose me with it).
My current treatment includes taking Venlafaxine (going to 75mg soon) to directly treat the dizziness and help with any remaining anxiety/panic issues, receive therapy (psychoeducation and CBT) by a therapist with a PhD preferably, and vestibular rehab. Dr. Staab also said massages (light on the neck) could be helpful as dizziness can cause neck and back muscles to tighten due to the body stiffening over time to try to avoid dizziness sensations.
I was told to take Vitamin B12 (400mg) and venlafaxine in the morning. In the afternoon I take COq10 (200mg) after lunch and 200mg after dinner. Before bed, I take magnesium glycinate (500mg) and effexor. I take other supplements, but these I specifically take for migraine/dizziness related issues.
I have seen Dr. Staab, Dr. Beh, the Vestibular Psychologist Emily Kostelnik, have watched the Steady Coach on youtube, looked into the dizzy cook, and have seen multiple Neurologists, ENT’s, Cardiologists, PCP’s, Physical therapists, audiologists, gastro’s, even an allergist. I was misdiagnosed with POT’s, but otherwise every test that was done came back normal except that I have a hiatial hernia, fatty liver, low vitamin D, and a deviated septum.
I’ve had the brain scans, blood tests, heart monitoscans/ultrasounds, tilt table, ear tests, balance tests, epley maneuver, rotary chair, basically every test you can think of (some multiple times) and have tried basically every supplements/lifestyle changes you can think of as well. I have also done a lot of the above tests at Mayo Clinic in their dizziness program that I was accepted into in Minnesota.
My dizziness began at work 3 years ago when it felt like I was bouncing up and down just while standing and my body proceded to panic. I went from having this kind of episode once a month, to once every few weeks, to every day, to basically dizzy any time I stood or walked. Because of the dizziness, I stopped going to stores, didn’t shower as much as I should have, did not workout, and took off of work as it was so difficult to just walk. I currently work full time, workout, am in a relationship, and can do so much that I felt like I couldn’t do. I still have days where I need to take a break, and you won’t catch me on a boat for awhile as that triggers me GREATLY!
Two things that have for sure helped me so far, walking and time. Going for walks was a hard thing to start being dizzy, but that is something I can for sure say I’ve noticed helps without a doubt. And time; my dizziness didn’t improve overnight, it’s been three years, and i still deal with it! I’ve learned it isn’t going to hurt me and to simply learn to live with it (for now) and to push myself baby steps at a time.
Also, parasympathetic breathing has helped me tremendously as well as guided meditation to relax and practice mindfulness. I pay for an app called Downdog which has great guided programs (and yoga!) and currently get it for free for being a student.
Don’t give up, even if it feels like you are just trying to survive. Don’t let doctors write you off, advocate for yourself. If the doctor doesn’t listen or help, find new ones. Lean on your support system. Help others and share your story so there is more awareness and research for dizziness. It is one of the most difficult symptoms to diagnose. And it is just that, a SYMPTOM! You are you and not your symptoms or diagnoses!
If you have any questions, I will try my best to respond to everything no matter the question or if it is 10 years from now. There is SO much to this journey, and attempting to fit it into one post feels impossible. One thing that bothered me was people posting about their symptoms and never giving updates/responding to others, so I will try my best to do so…

Species: cat DSH Age: 8yrs 7months Sex/Neuter status: M, neutered Body weight: 5.2kg History: preciously has had spots, otherwise healthy whole life Your general location: UK Links to test results, vet reports, Xrays etc: haven't got them, vets closed for the day.
Honestly, vets are stumped, he is getting worse and I have no answers so why not let Reddit have a crack.
He has been a healthy boy his whole life, brief amount of spots a few years ago, vets put it down to hay fever. They were tested and sent off to bio lab. This does not seem related but anything is possible.
He also went missing for a month in October last year, came back fine, underweight but fine. Has put weight back on and is healthy.
One last thing, and this is important, my boy became an outdoor cat 2 years ago. Since then he has gone from loving his litter trays to loving going in someone's garden. He does not touch his litter trays unless we keep him in for things like bonfire night. Even at that point he will hold on till desperate and finally give in.
Here is a timeline of events:
6/5 - has his breakfast and has usual morning stroll around the neighborhood. Comes home within an hour (early for him) and will not use catflap. Comes limping through door and starts using his litter trays. Will not go outside. Poo and pee done.
7/5 - limp has gotten worse. Cannot jump up even half a metre. Will pull with front legs so seems to be a back leg issue. Vet recommends an x-ray, cannot feel anything and cat does not seem agitated anywhere when being touched. Poo and wee done.
8/5 - taken in for x-ray. While under vet checks limbs are still working. All seems fine. No breakages. No issues with joints. Comments that there quite a bit of poo in stomach, however does not believe he has a blockage. Reccomends laxitive if he does not go regularly. Vet believes he may have a muscle tear, therefore rest up, come back in if he does not imporve. Has wee, no poo.
10/5 - has first poo since 7/5, is large, soft, pretty good. But since has started limping alot more. Laying around alot more. We believe this is due to muscle tear, think nothing of this.
11-12/5 - cat starts looking at floor while walking. A good chin tickle and he will look up. Will look up for treats.
13/5 - vet prescribes laxative as he hasn't gone since 10/5. Cat has not had laxative yet, has dinner , walks out from dinner and is not only limping/stumbling but is consistently looking at the ground. Vet brings in immediately, bloods, stool and wee sample done at vets (what timing). Vet checks stool, is soft and seems normal so confirms again does not believe blockage is the issue. Asks to bring back in the morning.
14/5 (today) - spends all day in the vets with another blood test and blood pressure monitoring. EVERYTHING on paper is normal. He is the fit of health for a normal cat on paper. Vet today also commented they can feel alot of poo in his stomach. He has come hope this evening and cannot lift his head, is struggling to eat due to head position and is stumbling around. He cannot make it up the stairs in 1 go. He is constantly sleeping. He has tried to go to the toilet this evening for a poo however struggled to keep his bum off the litter, with our help holding him up a little pushed out the smallest poo. He was huffing, and making small strain noises the whole time. Immediately went to lie down.
Throughout all of this he is eating and drinking, his appetite has not been effected.
He can barely get around at this point. Our usual vet did not see him today, the vet that saw him today was stumped, they have never seen anything like it. They did phone our usual vet on his day off to see what to recommend but they are stumped. They are going to talk more tomorrow and phone me. They did give me a list of a bunch of things we can trail and test however we agreed we are running out of time and nothing seems like an anwser.
If anyone has any idea, ANYTHING, please let me know. I don't want to lose my baby, he is slowly becoming a prisoner in his own body and idk how to help.

TLDR: I have had non spinning dizziness for 3 years, did every test, saw a world expert in dizziness at Mayo clinic, diagnosed with Panic Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, possibly Vestibular Migraines from a neurologist, but not PPPD, and I accept it finally.
Hello everyone,
I wanted to share my story with dizziness as I have read many others on many different forums and hope that this can help others like others have helped me!
I have experienced dizziness for over three years now (28M) that is non-spinning in nature, it is an up and down feeling like you are on an elevator, on a boat, or walking on sand as some may describe it, typically while walking, standing, or slight position adjustments while sitting or laying down. It has caused anxiety, panic attacks, shakiness, heart palpitations, arm/leg numbess, neck tingling, neck pain, muscle spasms, brain fog, hearing sensitivity, headaches, fevers, and others I am probably forgetting.
I recently visited with Dr. Staab at Mayo Clinic who is one of the best in the world at looking into problems with dizziness, among many countless providers over the last three years. Dr. Staab specifically researches and treats dizziness, and recently diagnosed me with Panic Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, but NOT Persistent postural perceptual dizziness (PPPD) as I don’t completely fit the criteria. The reason I was given was that I did not have a typical reason such as an ear infection or other PPPD pre-cursors, and that certain motion does not trigger dizziness in me like typical PPPD patients (I can play video games and watch movies with no issues). I for sure thought I had PPPD, but regardless, treatment is relatively the same with or without that diagnosis for my symptoms.
The best way it was explained to me was that my initial dizziness episode three years ago was a panic attack where the first symptom was dizziness followed by other physical symptoms, and heightened anxiety/panic over this dizziness caused my body to be overly alert/sensitive to the space/movement around me, creating a loop of constant dizziness. While my anxiety has improved tremendously and I have only experienced less than 10 (being generous with this) panic attacks my whole life, the dizziness has improved but remained, as it is described as basically a residual effect of the initial anxiety/panic attacks that my body has not yet corrected.
I also saw Dr. Beh who is a neurologist that specializes in vestibular disorders and migraines, and he further diagnosed me with Vestibular Migraines (which Dr. Staab says is a possibility but he doesn’t have enough evidence to diagnose me with it).
My current treatment includes taking Venlafaxine (going to 75mg soon) to directly treat the dizziness and help with any remaining anxiety/panic issues, receive therapy (psychoeducation and CBT) by a therapist with a PhD preferably, and vestibular rehab. Dr. Staab also said massages (light on the neck) could be helpful as dizziness can cause neck and back muscles to tighten due to the body stiffening over time to try to avoid dizziness sensations.
I was told to take Vitamin B12 (400mg) and venlafaxine in the morning. In the afternoon I take COq10 (200mg) after lunch and 200mg after dinner. Before bed, I take magnesium glycinate (500mg) and effexor. I take other supplements, but these I specifically take for migraine/dizziness related issues.
I have seen Dr. Staab, Dr. Beh, the Vestibular Psychologist Emily Kostelnik, have watched the Steady Coach on youtube, looked into the dizzy cook, and have seen multiple Neurologists, ENT’s, Cardiologists, PCP’s, Physical therapists, audiologists, gastro’s, even an allergist. I was misdiagnosed with POT’s, but otherwise every test that was done came back normal except that I have a hiatial hernia, fatty liver, low vitamin D, and a deviated septum.
I’ve had the brain scans, blood tests, heart monitoscans/ultrasounds, tilt table, ear tests, balance tests, epley maneuver, rotary chair, basically every test you can think of (some multiple times) and have tried basically every supplements/lifestyle changes you can think of as well. I have also done a lot of the above tests at Mayo Clinic in their dizziness program that I was accepted into in Minnesota.
My dizziness began at work 3 years ago when it felt like I was bouncing up and down just while standing and my body proceded to panic. I went from having this kind of episode once a month, to once every few weeks, to every day, to basically dizzy any time I stood or walked. Because of the dizziness, I stopped going to stores, didn’t shower as much as I should have, did not workout, and took off of work as it was so difficult to just walk. I currently work full time, workout, am in a relationship, and can do so much that I felt like I couldn’t do. I still have days where I need to take a break, and you won’t catch me on a boat for awhile as that triggers me GREATLY!
Two things that have for sure helped me so far, walking and time. Going for walks was a hard thing to start being dizzy, but that is something I can for sure say I’ve noticed helps without a doubt. And time; my dizziness didn’t improve overnight, it’s been three years, and i still deal with it! I’ve learned it isn’t going to hurt me and to simply learn to live with it (for now) and to push myself baby steps at a time.
Also, parasympathetic breathing has helped me tremendously as well as guided meditation to relax and practice mindfulness. I pay for an app called Downdog which has great guided programs (and yoga!) and currently get it for free for being a student.
Don’t give up, even if it feels like you are just trying to survive. Don’t let doctors write you off, advocate for yourself. If the doctor doesn’t listen or help, find new ones. Lean on your support system. Help others and share your story so there is more awareness and research for dizziness. It is one of the most difficult symptoms to diagnose. And it is just that, a SYMPTOM! You are you and not your symptoms or diagnoses!
If you have any questions, I will try my best to respond to everything no matter the question or if it is 10 years from now. There is SO much to this journey, and attempting to fit it into one post feels impossible. One thing that bothered me was people posting about their symptoms and never giving updates/responding to others, so I will try my best to do so…

Hi everyone! Below is a full body routine I made. I work full time and have a busy schedule, so my goal is trying to reduce time spent at the gym while still having a solid workout that hits each muscle at least twice per week. I am shooting for around 5 exercises per day, since I usually start getting unproductive and fatigued after that. Please let me know if you have any comments!
My personal info: 25, Male, 5’10”, weightlifting for about 6 years. Bench: 255, squat: 285, DL: 345.
I start every day with strength focused PPL compound lift (deadlift, squat, or bench). The next 4 lifts during the day are mainly compound lifts focused on hypertrophy . So for example, the first day has deadlifts (Pull) as the main strength lift. Then I have 2 Push and 2 Leg focused hypertrophy exercises. My thoughts are that for Pull muscles, you will hit them once per week for strength and twice per week for hypertrophy. The fourth day would be for accessory lifts that can be tweaked for whatever you feel needs some extra attention.
I’d love to hear your thoughts!

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Hi guys, I am new into kettlebells. I’m 25, 193cm (6’3 ish I guess) and 88kg (195lbs). I am generally speaking in a decent shape. I make around 8,5-9k steps daily. Before pandemic I used to weight 65kg (143lbs). During lockdown I trained with barbells and dumbbells for like 6-7 months and got to 82kg (180lbs). Then I went back to Uni where I couldn’t continue due to lockdown etc. I’ve never got back to that regularity bar summer holidays at home (so 2 months tops), cause I’ve always been weirdly anxious about public gyms. I picked up different hobbies like MMA or running but couldn’t stick to it because I didn’t like it or injuries etc. This year I decided to give a gym another chance and I’ve been fairly consistent doing 2-4 FBW training per week. I gained 4kg (9lbs) since January and I am in a decent shape for my standards. Obv my PRs aren’t impressive. BP 45kg (started with 25) / DL 55kg (started with 30) / Squat 50kg (started with 25) done in 4 series 10-12 reps. So there was some constant progress and challenge.
During a bank holiday 2 weeks ago I went home but wasn’t super keen on doing FBWs, so I decided to do some swings (100 in 10 series EMOM) and push-ups, cause I’ve seen some videos about it being king of excercises. It took me arround 20 minutes and I felt very fresh and energized after, probably thanks to aerobic effect of the training. So I decided to give it a go thanks to being really simple and short. I am a med student so time is of an essence. Here I am 3rd week, after 10th session. Started with 8kg quickly moved to 12kg and then after 1 session to 16 which seems to be optimal for now (although it becomes weirdly lighter form session to session). For first 8 I did 10min EMOM and 60-70 push ups divided into 3-4 sets, but last 2 sessions I did some routine from YT: 10 swings on 0:00, 3:00, 6:00 etc. 10 push ups, on 1:30, 4:30, 7:30 etc. 100 swings and 100 push-ups total in 30 mins. Whereas first one was hard today’s was easier, so I think maybe I will do this EMOM method, but I am kind of lost.
I feel like for those 3 weeks I’ve neglected upper body with biceps and shoulders especially. I thought about starting ABC method and I’ve even did some cleans and presses (12kg) from dead weight (without hinge) and felt biceps and shoulders afterwards but I don’t know if it is right moment to do that in a proper way. I saw a video of some guy named Mark Wildman who said KBs are the way to go BUT you should work on swings for year or two before moving to other motions. I don’t know if I misunderstood or maybe it was some marketing stint for his programs but it seems odd to be honest.
So here is my question. What would you guys suggest to work on? 3-4 times ~30-40 min. I don’t care about bodybuilder physique but it would be nice to have proportional body and whereas my legs look more defined my upper body (maybe besides back) looks worse. And what about chest? I’be seen a lot of you guys here to have great physique of healthy and athletic person not necessarily body builders. And this is what I am trying to achieve. Obviously I am aware that is a long process but I am looking for guindance. I think it is good activity for me because eventually I can move entirely to my apartment instead of paying membership and wasting time for commmuting.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Hello, I am 26M, Netherlands, and I was a smkoker for 8 years. I have found yesterday on my right inner upper leg a lump under my skin that was painful when I touched it. After touching it a bit it became purple and since yesterday it has a red tint. I can push it around and if I run my fingers over it, it s firm to touch. Last week I also had a similar type of pain that felt like a rash or pimples on the back of my head, at the start of my spine. That went away since then. I have an appointment with the GP on thursday, but I can t stop freaking out about it, since I saw that it might also be the beginning of a sarcoma. I am really afraid of this at this moment.

This may be a stupid question but as someone who generally dislikes strength training, I don’t know very much. I do know I need to do it more consistently and I would in fact, like to build muscle. My lady arms resemble that of a small child.
Now, I’ve always done a total body routine. Bare minimum. But more often than not, I’m seeing people do an uppelower split.
Is there a benefit to doing one over the other? In terms of running and actually wanting to build some muscle, which way would be the best bang for my buck?

Hey all,
I know I should probably go to the doctor. But I haven't the slightest clue which specialty to check out.
Last year for my physical, I am 5'9" (69 inches). My girlfriend is 5'7.5" (67.5). Recently, over the past 6 months or so, my girlfriend has made comments of "you look my height today" or "you look taller today". I can't stress enough it's not an insecurity of mine, so this isn't a psychological-based question. I bring her into it because she was the "control group" and the one who noticed it. I chalked it up to the shoes I'm wearing or the shoe's she is wearing. One day however, around January both of us were in her apartment and we looked to be about the same height, both had no shoes. She measured me on the wall in her den and I was 67 inches exactly. I didn't think much of it and just said "huh, maybe I'm 5'7". Didn't go much else into it. Another day a few weeks later it was the same situation in her apartment except her thoughts were "you're tall" and we used the same wall. I was 70 and (1/4) inches. I had stretched my legs HEAVILY that day and did dead hangs in the gym. Told her that, to which she made a comment that my height should not be fluctuating that much.
Since then, "the wall" has heights as follows; 67in, 69.25in, 68.5in, 68in, 70.25in, 69in, and finally today I was MUCH shorter at 66.75 in. The range here is 66.75-70.25in. I am fluctuating slightly more than 3 inches on a day-to-day basis. All these measurements were taken with no shoes, on the same wall, with the same flexible measuring tape.
The reason I bring weightlifting into this is because as of late I feel like my legs have been getting super tight specifically in my glutes, IT band, and inner thigh muscles (sartorius/addutor longus) post-leg day. I have been weightlifting for 5 years on/off but last January I really started taking it seriously (bodybuilder prep-type serious) and log progress and use progressive overload to increase my weightload. About 6 months ago when this all started is also when I started to get way more tightness (not soreness) than usual. I also have extremely tight hamstrings. I've tried stretching more during my warm-ups and using a foam roller frequently. I notice my height seems to be on the taller range the same days/day following a long stretch/foam roll session. I seem to be my shortest a day or two after my leg days. I had flat feet as a child and wore orthotics. And have never had any foot pain until recently. It's not pain per say but on the days I have tightness in my legs I also have tightness in the bottom of my foot where my arch should be. Equally, I work at a desk job and experience lower back tightness that I try to stretch out as much as possible.
What doctor should I go to for this? Podiatrist? Physical therapist? Orthopedic Doctor? Please help.
TL;DR: Have been lifting for 5 years, very serious about it for 1.5 years. 6 months ago, my leg workouts started yielding much tighter than normal hamstrings/adductors/glutes out of nowhere. Around this time 6 months ago my height also started fluctuating within a range of 3 inches on a day-to-day basis. Also around this time 6 months ago I started experiencing tightness in where my arches are on bottom of my feet. Also experience low-back tightness from sitting in a desk. Not sure which doctor I should go to for medical treatment. Thank you!

heeyy so ive been cycling since last week for my lower body part to be strong bc i will go on a hike at the end of the month (my first hiking and first time cycling hardcore).
ive been cycling for almost 10km-20km a day, depending on the situation. i noticed that i can do 20k easier when i take breaks after every 2km. however, my brother said that i should cycle continuously for me to build muscles and that i should go fast for my legs to be stronger. but as a beginner, it’s hard for me to only have two 3-minute breaks to finish 20km AND cycle in a fast manner.
so my question is: is it true that i should not take many breaks for me to build muscle faster and that i should go fast for my legs to be stronger? considering that i need to be better at the end of the month
also, can u give me tips on how to have stronger stamina as a beginner?
THANK YOU SO MUCHHH

It’s been about 2 years since my injury (L1/L3 incomplete) and every night I get muscle spasms in my right leg. Occasionally they happen through the day and occasionally it’s also my left leg. I can feel how much stress it’s putting on my leg (it’s so tight and has constant residual pain) and I’m always worried about having them when I’m driving or out doing anything. I’m not sure what would help or make a difference. Any advice is appreciated :)

Duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD) is a genetic disorder that progressively weakens muscles due to a defective gene responsible for producing dystrophin.
It mostly affects males because the faulty gene is on the X chromosome. But females can be carriers and have some milder symptoms.
DMD typically begins showing symptoms between ages 2 and 5. Children with DMD often struggle with walking, running, jumping, and frequently fall.
The condition starts with muscle weakness in the legs and pelvis, gradually affecting the arms and other areas, leading many affected boys to require a wheelchair by their early teens.
There is no cure but treatments such as physical therapy, medications and sometimes surgery can help manage symptoms and improve quality of life.
More information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duchenne_muscular_dystrophy