PREVIEW

WORDS BYLINE: Andrea Caknis

When Chloe-Marie Gallagher first started feeling unwell, she had no idea her life was about to change forever.

The 33-year-old from Rotherham, England, was juggling work, motherhood and everyday life when strange symptoms began creeping in. Symptoms no one could explain.

“I just knew something wasn’t right,” Chloe says.

“But every time I went to A&E, I was told my tests were normal and sent home.”

Earlier in 2025, Chloe’s health began to unravel slowly and confusingly. It started with severe kidney pain that had no clear cause.

The pain was intense enough to send her repeatedly to hospital, but doctors couldn’t find anything wrong.

Then came fainting episodes, dizziness and extreme exhaustion that sleep didn’t fix.

“I had light sensitivity, brain fog so bad I couldn’t think straight, and fatigue that wiped me out,” she says.

“I started repeating words and phrases without meaning. At the time, I didn’t realise all these things were connected.”

Chloe had been working as a beautician, a hands-on job she loved.

But as her symptoms worsened, concentrating became harder. Then came internal tremors, muscle weakness and changes to her speech that frightened her.

“Looking back, my body was trying to tell me something was seriously wrong,” she says.

“I just didn’t have a diagnosis or a name for it.”

That all changed when Chloe was rushed to hospital with stroke-like symptoms. What followed was terrifying.

“I suddenly became paralysed down my right side,” she says.

“My hand and foot turned blue and swollen. I was confused and couldn’t speak. It was like my body just shut down.”

Chloe was admitted to hospital and seen by a neurologist three days later.

After clinical tests, she was diagnosed with Functional Neurological Disorder, known as FND. It was a condition she had never even heard of.

“In that moment, everything made sense and nothing made sense at the same time,” she says.

“I finally had answers, but I also realised my life had changed forever.”

Today, Chloe lives with a long list of symptoms that can change from day to day, and sometimes hour to hour.

She experiences tremors, especially when overstimulated or trying to concentrate.

Her speech is unpredictable. She can stutter, struggle to find words, or lose her voice completely for minutes or even hours.

“I’m currently relearning how to walk,” she says.

“I use a frame and a wheelchair, depending on the day. Mornings are the worst because my muscles cramp and spasm overnight. The pain can be unbearable.”

Chloe also experiences non-epileptic seizures that leave her completely exhausted.

“If I have one, that’s usually me done for the day,” she says.

“Every symptom is unpredictable, and that’s one of the hardest parts of FND.”

As a mum of three, the impact has been huge. Chloe’s eldest son is 11 and autistic, she also has a seven-year-old son and a four-year-old daughter.

“Being their mum is my greatest motivation,” she says.

“Even on my hardest days, they’re the reason I keep going.”

Bad days are brutal.

“If I’ve had little or no sleep, I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a brick,” Chloe explains.

“My muscles are painfully tight, I can’t stand even with aids, and I need constant care. Communication becomes overwhelming and everything feels amplified. Some days I spend the entire day in bed.”

Good days look very different but they’re not symptom-free.

“A good day means manageable,” she says.

“Less pain, more movement, being able to use my aids and spend time with my family. Those days remind me that progress doesn’t have to be fast to be real.”

Despite growing awareness online, FND remains widely misunderstood and this is something Chloe is passionate about changing.

“The biggest misconception is that because there’s no structural damage to the brain, it isn’t real,” she says.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“FND is not ‘all in our heads’. It’s an involuntary neurological condition where the brain and body stop communicating properly. It’s terrifying when it happens. We don’t choose this. We don’t control it.”

Managing day-to-day life now revolves around pacing and listening to her body.

“I use mobility aids, avoid triggers like exhaustion and overstimulation, and stick to routines that help regulate my nervous system,” Chloe says.

“I rest when I need to without guilt. That took time to learn.”

She no longer works as a beautician, as her condition makes treatments impossible.

“Losing my career was heartbreaking,” she admits.

“It affected my independence and my confidence. Learning to accept help has been one of the hardest lessons.”

What keeps her going is purpose.

“I refuse to let FND define me,” she says.

“Being a mum, advocating for awareness, and knowing that my voice could help someone else. That’s what keeps me going.”

Chloe has found a large and supportive audience by sharing her journey on TikTok, where she has amassed 1.7 million likes. Through videos, she documents the reality of living with FND, the bad days as well as the hopeful ones. The videos are harrowing.

Chloe is also a director of FND Together We Rise CIC, an organisation created to ensure people living with Functional Neurological Disorder are seen and supported.

“Too many people with FND face delayed diagnosis, dismissal and stigma,” she says.

“Our mission is to raise awareness, build community, and push for better understanding and care not just for patients, but for their families too.”

Chloe decided to become an advocate after seeing first-hand how isolating the condition can be.

“FND can be frightening and life-altering, yet it’s still so misunderstood,” she says.

“Advocacy felt necessary. I wanted to help create a future where people with FND are met with compassion and belief, not disbelief.”

She credits her family for helping her survive the darkest moments.

“My biggest supporters are my family, especially my children, my mum, my partner, my baby sister and my grandparents,” she says.

“They believe in me even when I struggle to believe in myself.”

Now, Chloe is determined that her diagnosis won’t silence her.

“FND may have changed my life, but it hasn’t taken my voice,” she says.

“If sharing my story helps even one person feel seen, believed or understood, then it’s worth it.”