In 2016, while I was pregnant, my life changed in a way I never expected. That was the year I was truly confronted with the full impact of Visual Snow Syndrome (VSS) a condition I had never heard of, yet one that would come to define and challenge every aspect of my daily existence.
Before my pregnancy, there were already subtle signs. I experienced unusual tightness in my body, episodes of dizziness, and what I can only describe as inner tremors a strange internal vibration that I now deeply believe is connected to VSS, even if it’s not officially listed as a symptom. My tinnitus started with full force. Once I became pregnant, it was as though someone flipped a switch: every classic symptom of Visual Snow Syndrome came all at once.
The visual static became impossible to ignore. I saw afterimages, light sensitivity, trails, and constant flickering. My world was no longer clear. It was covered in a film of chaos I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t undergo many diagnostic tests. I was terrified, confused, and physically debilitated. I didn’t know what was happening to my body, and nobody around me seemed to know either.
After my child was born, things didn’t get better. Doctors ran test after test, spinal taps, MRIs, eye exams, neurological assessments. The suspicion was that I might have Multiple Sclerosis or another degenerative disease. Every test came back normal. I remember the relief of a normal result being instantly replaced by something scarier: being dismissed.
When doctors couldn’t find a physical cause, I was referred to a psychiatrist. “It’s all in your head,” they said. But I knew what I was seeing, what I was feeling. I was losing my independence. I developed extreme anxiety, panic attacks, and nervous system dysregulation. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t leave the house. I stopped seeing my friends. I didn’t drink. I didn’t socialize. I couldn’t even go to the supermarket because it was too overwhelming and I would start shaking and my vision would act out because my anxiety was so high. Places with too much visual information will do that to you. I lived in isolation, trapped not only by my symptoms but by the trauma of being unheard.
For five years, my world became smaller. I was navigating motherhood with two autistic boys, while fighting a condition that no one understood. I lived in survival mode, carrying invisible pain. But I learned how to live through it.
I began to rebuild. Slowly, I started understanding my condition. I found others who had similar experiences. I realized that what I had wasn’t a mental health crisis it was a neurological condition, Visual Snow Syndrome, and I wasn’t alone.
Today, I still live with VSS. But I’m not the same woman I was in 2016. I’ve learned to advocate for myself. I’ve found strength in vulnerability and power in speaking up. My experience taught me that trauma, dismissal by medical professionals, and chronic neurological illness create a storm inside a person and that storm is real, even if others can’t see it.
However, I made the choice not to give up, despite all the symptoms of Visual Snow Syndrome. Every day felt like a battle: the pain, the tremors, the static, the afterimages that kept me from driving for five years, the dizziness, and the emotional rollercoaster of living with a condition that no one could understand. People only understand what they can see and VSS is only visible to those who live with it. There is little empathy for invisible illnesses.
But somewhere deep within me, I found a force, a will to rise. I burned myself to the ground and chose to be reborn from the ashes. That’s when everything changed. I was finally ready to face the storm not just the one in my eyes, but the one within my soul.
I went back to school. I had studied psychology years before, but I never finished. This time, I pursued psychoanalysis my true calling. I had been working with people since I was 14 years old, in orphanages, rehabilitation centers, nursing homes, hospices always in service, always close to pain, always drawn to healing.
Mental health was never distant from me. I grew up with a narcissistic mother and lost my sister to suicide after her struggle with bipolar disorder, drugs and alcohol addiction. I endured abusive relationships, I endured cancer, chronic pain and much more due to abuse. I saw, lived, and carried the weight of emotional trauma. I knew that healing minds was more than a profession it was a purpose, it was a calling.
After graduating, I began working online with patients, first from the U.S., where I lived for 25 years. Later, I opened an in-person practice in Portugal, where I’ve now been seeing clients from various cultures and backgrounds for over three years. All while living with Visual Snow Syndrome.
It wasn’t easy. Studying psychoanalysis with VSS was like reading through fog. Videos, books, notes, constant stimulation, everything that overwhelms someone with this condition. But I did it. Because I decided that Visual Snow Syndrome would not define me. It could live in me, but it wouldn’t stop me.
Alongside psychoanalysis, I studied Neuroscience, NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming), and I’m pursuing a postgraduate degree in Neuroscience and Behavior. I also started doing my own therapy for VSS not just as a patient, but as a practitioner, experimenting on myself, studying how emotions and nervous system regulation could affect symptoms.
What I discovered changed everything: the more I learned to calm my anxiety and regulate my nervous system, the lighter my Visual Snow symptoms became.
I began teaching myself how to live with the condition, how to understand it not just medically, but physically and energetically. I realized that acceptance is a turning point. I learned to accept, and through acceptance, I found my power. I turned my trauma into a tool. My suffering became a service. My condition became a connection to the people I now help every day.
If I could do it, I promise you: you can do it too.
It’s not something foreign you can remove. And until we find a cure, it’s not about destroying it, it’s about integrating it, and rebuilding your life with it.
Today, I support patients with Visual Snow Syndrome from around the world. I use a blend of psychoanalysis, trauma therapy, emotional regulation, and body-mind techniques that I created from my own lived experience. I help patients work through panic attacks with or without medication, how to process trauma, and most importantly, how to accept their new reality while reclaiming control over their lives.
Visual Snow Syndrome is not just a neurological condition; it affects your entire being. And through my work, I’ve seen what’s possible. I’ve seen lives change. I’ve seen fear turn into understanding, chaos into calm.
I’m not just a therapist I’m a survivor. I’m a woman, a mother, a friend, a soul helping another soul find light in the dark.
To anyone out there suffering: I see you. I believe you. You are not alone. Living a full life with VSS is possible.
