For the next four years or so I became stiffened and afraid to do things that might compromise my body’s integrity. My mind fixated on the faintest of sensations rising in my gut, my throat, my chest… It only took a few moments of poking and examining myself to succumb to yet another panic attack. I began to feel sore in the places I’d continually examined and this only further contributed to the notion that my body was a time bomb ticking its way toward disintegration. It was utterly exhausting, but it bled into the interpersonal realm as well.

I’ve written up until now about how this impacted my mental health on an individual level but that doesn’t tell the full story and it isn’t the whole story when it comes to health anxiety. You see, after months of doctors visits and emergency room trips in the hopes of gaining clarity on what was so wrong with me, I had to face the realization that, physically at least, I wasn’t in such a dire state as I’d come to believe.