CONTENT WARNING: discussions of health anxiety, eating habits, mentions of death, medical emergencies.
I know the breath in my lungs is limited. I know the beats of my heart are numbered. Every day I dwell over things that could make me closer to losing these things. Every day a new panic with the same thought:
There’s something wrong with me.
I exist in the clutches of my own fears. Health anxiety decides everything I do, from my daily routines to the things I want to do. I am crushed by the limitations of my own mind saying to me:
There is something wrong with me. I can’t do anything or else something will happen.
I am fortunate enough to not have had any extreme medical emergencies happen to myself. I had croup cough as a kid, broke my arm, and had an infected cut on my leg. It was to the point where the doctor said she’d have to amputate my leg if I got ocean water in it (not something I want to hear right before my family vacation to the Caribbean, if I’m being honest), but I’ve come out of them totally fine.For the most part, my childhood was pretty free of immediate family health crises and deaths, apart from the death of my grandmother that happened when I was too young to remember. Just over a year ago, however, I was met with my father almost dying of a massive stroke. A horribly terrifying period of time, but one I’m grateful that didn’t happen during my childhood. That’s not to say this event wasn’t traumatizing and tragic for my father and everyone in my family, but I’m just glad I was an adult when it happened.
And yet, despite the world not putting me in many of these situations that would give me these fears at a young age, I still developed them from nothingness.
Because I haven’t experienced anything like that with my own body, the health anxiety grows worse with age.
There’s something wrong with me. Something is going to happen. I know it.
The longer I am forced to wait, the worse I feel this will be.
There will be something wrong with me.
This, as I said before, effects genuinely everything I do. If I felt I haven’t eaten enough before doing something, I will convince myself that I’m going to pass out doing anything, even if it is just standing by the stove to cook something. If I get a headache, I convince myself that there is some sort of emergency and that my brain will shut down in any way it can. My back hurts? It must be because I’m going to be deathly ill. I’m tired? There must be something wrong with my heart. Too hot or too cold? My body is shutting down.
There is never a moment’s peace if my body is slightly out of equilibrium.
A life full of constant pulse checking and temperature checking is one of pure panic over things that are not wrong. Everything is a death sentence and I just wait for the jury to decide on my verdict.
There is something wrong with me. If not now, then one day soon.
My eating habits need to be absolutely perfect in the way my mind sees them. That is, three meals a day, never a moment of hunger or I will pass out, and a consistent supply of food so I can have something to eat always. There is a sense of urgency when I am hungry, a sense of “if I do not eat now, I will pass out”. The idea of losing consciousness scares me to my core. A state in which my body suddenly has no control keeps me on my toes. If I have food that has to be prepared and I am hungry now, I will spend the whole time checking my pulse and panicking that it isn’t going to be ready soon enough. If I do not feel something is substantial enough, I am thrown into a panic.
I decline on plans because leaving the comfort of my own home means I have to move around, expend energy, and put myself at risk of my body being hurt, exhausted, or faint.If I walk too much, I feel my legs may fail me. If I try a new food, I could be deathly allergic and not know until it is too late. I am subjected to the same nothingness and routine so I do not put myself in a situation that will put my body at risk. Everything that feels off must have a simple explanation or it is there because I am dying. There is no middle ground.
“These things are okay to do.” “You’re always saying that, it’s literally nothing.” “You say you’re gonna be allergic to everything.” “Sometimes things hurt for no reason, you’re probably fine.” “It’s probably just allergies, you know the ones you get every year?” “You’re always nervous for no reason.”
Don’t you think I know that?
Don’t you think I know that??
I’ve been anxious my whole life. Don’t you think I know these things??
~
I’m handling things better now. I’m on some medication, I’ve learned new ways to make myself do things that I need to do, I understand my body more. I’m handling things better now.
I talk about my worries. Some of the people around me can relate to and understand my fears, even if the fears aren’t logical. I’m handling it all better now.
I walk to class and I feel rejuvenated. I walk to the store down the street and buy produce that I can use to cook things. I have a much better routine for myself to get me on my feet and to keep me from being tired. I’m handling things better now.
I can enjoy being alive.
I can go to new places.
I can try new things.
I can voice my concerns.
I can be okay.
I’m handling things better now.
And yet, through all my progress, through all my learning, it still comes back. My body still panics when things are slightly off balance. I still sometimes panic at the existence of what is truly nothing. I am sent spiraling at the simplest changes in my body. There truly seems to be no way out of the grasp my health anxiety has on me every day.
I know that there isn’t.
But there’s something wrong with me.
All credit for featured image to Brandon Holmes via Unsplash.
