Bad day tips by ALPIMS domains
Here are ALPIMS-informed tips for getting through bad days—especially those marked by sensory overload, pain flares, emotional dysregulation, or immune fatigue. These go beyond general pacing and offer specific ideas tailored to each ALPIMS domain:
🛠 ALPIMS Bad Day Support Tips by Domain
🧠 Anxiety (A)
- Ground with breath-holding exhale techniques (e.g. 4-7-8 or physiological sighs).
- Wear compression garments (e.g. chest wrap or body socks) to regulate vagus nerve.
- Use weighted blankets or firm pressure around joints.
- Pre-set a ‘safe word’ with family to signal overwhelm without having to explain.
🤸♀️ Laxity (L)
- Avoid overstretching or unsupported positions on flare days—use bolsters, recliners, body pillows.
- Use soft wrist or knee braces to prevent micro-injury while resting.
- Elevate feet to reduce pooling if hypermobility overlaps with dysautonomia.
- Gentle core activation (e.g. abdominal breathing) instead of passive laying can improve stability.
🔥 Pain (P)
- Contrast therapy: alternate warm and cool compresses.
- Try vagus nerve resets (humming, gargling, cold splash on face).
- Create a ‘pain flare box’: magnesium balm, lidocaine patch, herbal teas, grounding scent oils, and distractions.
- Sensory pacing: reduce inputs (noise, light, movement) to calm down central sensitization.
🦠 Immune (I)
- Treat flares like viral days: low histamine foods, hydration, no visitors.
- Avoid multi-tasking—immune fatigue often amplifies when mental load increases.
- Create an anti-inflammatory rest space: calm lighting, air purifiers, no strong scents.
- Warm salt soaks or nasal saline rinses can calm immune-triggered irritation (e.g. vasomotor rhinitis or MCAS symptoms).
😔 Mood (M)
- Use audio affirmations or compassionate self-talk recordings made on a better day.
- Micro-doses of nature: window sun, a leaf on your chest, birdsong audio.
- Switch to low-cognitive-load media: documentaries, comfort shows, audiobooks at 1x speed.
- Name your feelings + give them permission: “This is grief. It’s welcome here.”
🌪 Sensory (S)
- Emergency sensory kit: noise-canceling headphones, blackout mask, unscented lip balm, neutral textures.
- Use pink or brown noise to soothe auditory overwhelm.
- Limit internal input too—pause gut-irritating foods, simplify meals, reduce supplements for the day.
- Touch neutrality: wear seamless, soft clothing or no clothing if tactile input spikes.
🌈 Universal ALPIMS “Get Through the Day” Rituals
| Strategy | How It Helps |
|---|---|
| Zone Check-In | Track what zone you’re in (Red = shutdown, Orange = struggle, Yellow = stable-ish, Green = good) to guide expectations. |
| Pre-scripted Decisions | Have a “bad day card” that tells you what to eat, what to wear, what to skip—removes decision fatigue. |
| Boundary bubble | Let others know “today is a low zone” and use door signs, auto-replies, or text templates to enforce boundaries. |
| Choose one anchor | Pick a small, familiar action to center your day: hot drink, comfort TV, stretching toes, lighting a salt lamp. |
| Evening wind-down | Regardless of the day’s difficulty, create a familiar night-time pattern: wash face, brush teeth, dim lights, listen to music. This maintains routine integrity. |
Living with ALPIMS: Lessons from the Bad Days
Like many of us living with ALPIMS (Anxiety, Laxity, Pain, Immune, Mood, Sensory), my emotions and physical capacity fluctuate alongside my symptoms. I’ve experienced times of relative stability—working, thinking clearly, even thriving—and I’ve also been laid low by days or weeks when I can barely get out of bed. I’ve ridden the rollercoaster of flare and recovery, hope and despair, and my emotional landscape has mirrored those peaks and valleys. That’s taken a toll on me, and on those closest to me.
But I’ve learned some powerful lessons during relapses that now serve me well. ALPIMS is a humbling and often invisible collection of conditions. It can strip away identity, certainty, and energy—but I’ve cultivated an inner toolkit: patience, pacing, and persistence.
Patience means that when I’m in the RED or ORANGE Zone, I remind myself: this too shall pass. I’ve had days when I truly believed I’d never get out of bed again, but eventually, the fog lifts. And on those days, I try to meet myself with acceptance, not self-pity. That helps lessen the emotional residue.
🔴 On Bad Days…
When I’m in the RED Zone, I no longer spiral into fear or self-criticism. I don’t chase answers or panic over “What if this never ends?” or “What if I’ve lost all progress?” Instead, I speak gently to myself and say to my partner, “It was a hard day.” That’s it. I let that be enough.
I try not to identify with my sickest self. She’s part of me, but she’s not all of me. Just as the high-functioning version isn’t all of me either. My identity isn’t fixed to a zone. It’s made of all my days—bad, better, and beautiful.
🧠 Lessons That Help:
1. Plan for Bad Days Like You’d Plan for Rain
Bad days are part of the weather system of ALPIMS. I treat them like a low-pressure front: a day off for nervous system repair. I prepare comforting, low-effort tools ahead of time: audiobooks, low-sensory crafts, soft blankets, simple foods, calming shows, a low-lit retreat zone. That’s not “doing nothing”—that’s healing in action.
2. Allow Small Doses of Private Self-Pity
On truly unbearable days, I let myself grieve—alone, safely. I cry, I rant, I name my losses. I hold my pet. I let the grief rise and crest. Then I release it. I don’t broadcast this moment to others. It’s sacred and part of metabolizing the emotional weight of chronic, misunderstood illness. And once I’ve cried it out, I come back to persistence. Because my life still matters.
3. Believe in the Good Days, Too
Even in deep flare, I remind myself: better days have happened, and they’ll come again. Even a good hour can remind me of what’s possible. I savor those windows. I don’t overuse them. I gently stretch them.
4. Use the 50% Rule
Pacing is my medicine. On good days (YELLOW or GREEN Zone), I resist the urge to “make up for lost time.” I aim to do about half of what I think I can. It’s hard. It feels unnatural. But it prevents collapse. I listen to body cues—fatigue in my eyes, grip weakness, sensory irritation. I rest before I break.
5. Just Do a Little
I’ve learned that “just a little” is powerful. Fold one towel. Write one sentence. Brush teeth while seated. Celebrate what I did, not mourn what I couldn’t. I’ve traded perfectionism for gentleness. One task done gently is more healing than five done with tension.
6. Schedule Rest, Not Just React to Flares
Now, even on GREEN Zone days, I schedule rest. I protect my regulation window. Rest is not a reward—it’s part of the plan.
💬 My Bottom Line
Living with ALPIMS doesn’t mean I’ve given up on joy. I may not get back to who I was—but I’ve started building a life that honors who I am now. I don’t fixate on what I’ve lost. I focus on how to create joy and peace within what I can do.
Life isn’t a rehearsal. This is it. With ALPIMS, with flares, with noise sensitivity, pain, trauma loops, and days spent in bed—I still get to live it. And I intend to.
You’re not failing. You’re adapting. And that is a strength.