You Mean, I’m Vulnerable Too?

I recently learned (the hard way) that it takes only a single illness to erase your entire (usually unconscious) system of beliefs about your body’s invulnerability and tempt you to become anxiously fearful about potential future disease.

In the past, I always showed up for my annual physicals relaxed and confident. I left those appointments in a euphoric state. My reports, even after I turned 50, were always perfect. I was totally confident about my health. That is, until the Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving when an unannounced, unexpected, and unnamable pain that felt as if a hot metal wire was tightening around the organs in my lower abdomen occurred. Though it brought me to my knees, it disappeared after a few barely tolerable minutes and sure that there was nothing seriously wrong, I went out to do my planned errands.

After lunch, though, I began shivering violently. Still wearing my outdoor clothes, I lay on the bed covered in blankets and my heaviest down coat, which went from my shoulders almost to my ankles. I called my husband Joe to come home from work.

I tried to text my friend, but was shaking so badly under my layers of coverings that I had to use the voice command to tell my phone: “Call Ava!” I described the earlier pain and the current shivering.

She said quickly, “I’ll call Steve.” He’s her internist brother-in-law who lives a thousand miles away from us, and the best diagnostician I’ve ever known.

Ava called back in a few minutes. “Steve says it’s diverticulitis. He wants you to go to the emergency room right away.”

Joe came home and sat on the bed beside me. I didn’t tell him what Steve had said. I was quite casual—even in light of the excruciating abdominal attack. Then another attack arrived. It lasted about two minutes—two long minutes. As I lay in the fetal position trying to breath, my husband patted my shoulder, which somehow soothed or at least distracted me, as I counted down to indicate my level of pain: “10 . . . . . . . . 9 . . . . . . . 8 . . . .  .7 . . . .”  I gasped out the numbers, until finally I sighed “1.”

Joe dialed Dr. Padro, our primary care physician. She could see me in an hour.

In a few minutes, I felt fine again. So fine that when we got to our HMO, I chose to walk up the three flights of stairs to Dr. Padro’s office, as I always did.

 She poked my abdomen gently. “Does this hurt?”

  “No.”

 “Well, you could have diverticulitis, although your stomach should hurt when I press it. Promise me you’ll go to the emergency room for a CT scan if you have another intense attack.”

 I promised, but I didn’t expect another onslaught of that agony again. Joe, Drs. Padro and Steve, Ava’s brother-in-law, saw an urgency that eluded me. So, with this possible diverticulitis diagnosis, if I thought anything at all (my mind was still strangely absent) it was that this was just a more grotesque manifestation of my chronic irritable bowel syndrome, which the medical profession had no way of relieving. I’d never been sick before: Well, not with a bona fide illness, though I daily endure and manage more than my share of physical idiosyncrasies: persistent muscle pain, lately joint pain as well, digestive gas that stimulates intense body-wide itching, flu symptoms, including sore throat, headache, body aches, and so on, which disappear after a simple welcome burp.

The third attack came suddenly Thanksgiving morning. (The pain never arrived gradually.) Again Joe and I did the shoulder-patting countdown, as the pain slowly subsided. (I was so glad an attack didn’t fell me in public—or in the middle of the night.)

 “You have to go to the ER,” Joe said firmly.

 “No problem,” I answered, feeling completely well again.

 Joe went out and made sure the interior of the car was warm for me. As it had been from the beginning of these episodes, my mind was strangely blank. I didn’t look ahead or think about anything except maybe where Joe would park when we got to the hospital.

I arrived at the hospital feeling alert, cheerful, and almost happy.

My mind didn’t think I was really ill, and in any case, I didn’t have to figure out what was wrong or come up with a treatment. As I walked through the hospital’s sliding doors, I thought: “I’m your problem now!” I had no concern for the immediate or far future. I was as unworried as the “lilies of the field  . . . .” After all, nothing had really ever been wrong with me before. But reluctantly, I would have to develop a new way of looking at my physical self.

A quick CT scan (don’t they call them CAT scans anymore?) determined I had diverticulitis. Normally an overly curious person, I didn’t ask what that was. A large ER doctor who looked like the genie in the old Thief of Bagdad movie smilingly asked, “Do you know why you got this?”

“No.”

Chuckling softly, he answered his own question: “Bad luck.”

The three days in the hospital on antibiotics and pain relievers in a private room overlooking the Charles River were pleasant. I was fed through an IV. Before I could be released on Sunday, I had to show that I could eat solid food and take an oversized antibiotic pill. The nurse crushed the pill in some applesauce. I took a spoonful, which immediately came back up into two buckets. Promising to get the pills reconstituted into smaller ones that I could swallow whole, I was released.

Even in their smaller size, about the size of my thumb fingernail, the five daily pills I had to take for 21 days were disgusting. I told myself over and over, “I must take this medication to get well.” That, in itself, was a departure from my normal routine, since I never had to take any drugs except to end my 10-year-long bout with hot flashes.

 While recovering, I found didn’t enjoy many foods I used to eat almost daily. Gone were the turkey kielbasa, the whole-wheat crackers, the granola bar with chocolate chips in it that used to calm my 11 a.m. IBS threats, and the nightly bowl of ice cream with my husband. All this signaled a different me. Three months later, I still don’t eat any of those foods. Coming down with diverticulitis was the easiest, if not the least painful, way to lose a quick 6 pounds.

Now my attitudes toward my body have changed. I found out that diverticulitis can recur. I’m trying to control my anxiety about an upcoming test that will tell the surgeon if I need surgery for the condition.

I’ve learned I’m not invincible. That was horrid awakening.

I developed apprehension about my health I never had before. And hard as it is to prevent it, I know worrying isn’t doing any good. In fact anxiety is harmful to my overall health. Instead of dwelling on what might come, I remind myself of all the times doctors didn’t give me bad news in my medical exams, but praised my health and vigor. So I refuse to go into the upcoming test cowering, with my chin dragging on the ground.

 Resilience is a big deal for me. We can’t know what the future holds, but we have to do our best to appreciate all that’s good in our lives and bounce back from the unpleasant surprises life sometimes throws at us. The alternatives are unacceptable.

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About the Author

Lynette Benton is a memoir, personal essay, family history, and creative writing instructor. Her essay, “No More Secrets and Silence” was awarded first prize in the contest sponsored by the National Association of Memoir Writers and She Writes Press. It was also anthologized in the collection The Magic of Memoir.

Her work has appeared in numerous online and paper publications, such as Brevity; Women Writing Women’s Books; More Magazine Online, Skirt! Magazine, and local newspapers (the Arlington Advocate and the Lexington Minuteman).

She has guest posted on various literary web sites, and was a personal essay columnist for the Chronicle of Higher Education, and InsideHighered.org, (the latter two under pseudonyms). An excerpt from her memoir was a finalist in a 2014 memoir-writing contest. Visit Lynette at Tools & Tactics for Writers and click on the word blog for tips on writing.

Lynette is prone to pain.

Guide to the Best Weighted Blankets for Better Sleep and Less Anxiety

My past weighted blanket guides have been focused the history of weighted blankets, where they came from, and why they exist. Like many other sites, I listed the sorts of issues weighted blankets are supposed to help with, from Autism Spectrum Disorder to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

This year, I want to do something a little different and focus on categories of weighted blankets. These are brands I have actually tried myself, so I know exactly how they work.

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The Best Weighted Blanket for Hot Sleepers

Hush Iced’s Cooling Weighted Blanket for Summer, from $199

My 9-year-old daughter is obsessed with this blanket, and for good reason. It’s both heavy and light—quite a feat when you think about it. She carries it from sofa to bed, enjoying the soft t-shirt fabric of the exterior and the nice, comfortable weight of the blanket itself. The biggest problem is that once she got used to this blanket, it was hard to transition back when traveling, etc.

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The Best Weighted Blanket That Helps Support Others

Weighting Comforts Charcoal Weighted Blanket, $149

I appreciate and like this company’s commitment to helping others. Weighting Comforts is based in Nashville, Tennessee, and they partner with Sew for Hope, a non-profit organization that teaches refugees to sew. 

Sew For Hope provides sewing machines and sewing classes for International Refugees that have been resettled in Middle Tennessee.Buying a blanket here supports women who making a living with artistry and skill.

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The Best Custom-Made Weighted Blanket

The Bevoya Store Weighted Blanket, from $119

This was the first weighted blanket I ever had, and I sleep under it every night. It’s well-made by a professional seamstress who lives in Illinois and who works from her home.

Here’s what I notice about sleeping under this blanket: There are times I need to kick a leg out because I get too weighted down, but soon enough, I normalize again and long for the weightness. When I end up in a bed without a weighted blanket, I long for it because it helps my sleep “settle in.”

I like that there is a pattern on the blanket. It sets it apart from our usual duvets and down comforters.

And if you can’t afford an (admittedly pricey) weighted blanket?

I was recently send this great list of DIY approaches to weighted blankets. Check them out, and see if any could work for you. If nothing else, you’ll get to see how a weighted blanket might work for you before investing in one yourself.

Got any brands of weighted blankets you think I should try? Drop me a comment below!

My Morning Ritual Helps Me With My Anxiety

Photo by Michael Skrzypek

I have been tweaking my morning routine for many years and have found a framework that helps me start my day with a healthy stroll rather than a flat out sprint when the alarm goes off at 6am. A key part of this success is not taking in any media until I have finished with my little rituals. Media means not only news and social media, but also emails, texts and alerts. Even classical music with announcements in between songs is off the table. Anything that is vying for my attention, unless I have purposely set it up for some early critical task or an emergency, is to be silenced. When you have a busy brain like mine it is easy to get swept away on someone else’s rollercoaster of needs and attention rather than what I had intended to accomplish. Even with the pandemic going on, when no one would blame me for scouring news first thing to see what dangers lurked ahead in my day, I have stuck to this rule (save for the first week).

My morning rituals include meditating first thing, stretching and journaling with coffee. If my brain is active with ideas, thoughts or concerns, and I am finding it difficult to meditate, I might journal first to clear my head. I find that my mind noodles on things overnight and keeping new information out allows for it to transfer various mental connections or resolutions from the sleepy subconscious mind to the waking mind. I can then write these thoughts onto physical paper in my journal which helps me process my experiences, my world, my life and my mission. When I would grab my phone first thing and check all of those media touch points, I would lose this vital piece of learning, understanding and growth. Instead my head would be filled with a whole new bevy of thoughts and concerns. They call it the "attention economy" for a reason.

After meditating, stretching and journaling, then it is time to really wake the system up in the form of exercise. Strength training, cardio or even a brisk walk with the dog do the trick. After I take the pup out I try and find sunshine and take a sun bath, letting the rays further wake up my senses. I usually have a light breakfast and then hit the shower. For two years now I have finished that nice warm rinse with three minutes of the coldest water I can get. Not only is this good for your immune and cardiovascular systems, but it helps build some serious fortitude. When you mind is screaming “No freaking way!” and your will says, “Oh yes we are, son”, you're building a neural pathway to overcoming something that frightens you.

All of these steps have put me in a position where I dictate how my morning will begin, choosing to wake my mind and body up in a ritualistic way that gives me peace, strength, fortitude and natural energy, rather than adrenaline fueled worry that leaves me feeling like a passenger on a runaway train. My anxiety has lessened to a great degree and my panic attacks are now few and far between. There are other steps I take throughout the day, but this morning routine has proven to be the linchpin. Safeguard your world and your goals like precious jewels. It is so easy to let outside influences leave you in a reactive state rather than a responsive state.

Barton Quigley lives in San Francisco. He pursued several of his own business start-ups for twenty years before launching a successful dog walking service. His dream was to escape the ruthless corporate grind and find a passion job would end the nightmare of anxiety and panic attacks. Barton discovered his own busy, overthinking, passionate brain needed some tender loving care, understanding and guidance. He began to study a wide array of subjects around health, specifically mental health, as well as productivity - life hacking - for living his best life. Through deep contemplation, therapy, and endless self experimenting, Barton found his own lasting truths and techniques, bringing a greater sense of stability to life just as it is, while still pursuing passionate dreams. His current passion is to share his library of lessons, tips and tricks to help others.

How Polycystic Ovary Syndrome Has Affected My Mental Health

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As a child, I couldn’t hide the symptoms, no matter how much I wanted to.

I read the comments on my recently posted picture. I sighed with a sense of relief. It wasn’t all bad. They found me happy. They found me cute. The filters were working. 

Then I got a notification about a message from an old school mate.

“Still the same fat girl, huh?” The face filters could not hide the extra pounds on my body.  Fat. Three lettered word. Storm of emotions.  The skin tears wide open. The wound begins to bleed again. The pain brings my attention to the open wound. I realize it never healed since it happened. 

Taking in a long breath, I type down, “Still the same sizeist, huh?”  I press send. It felt good. I had stood up for myself, right? I take some cotton and dab the wound. The piece of cotton turns red as it absorbs all the blood, but the wound remains fresh. I continue to bleed…drop by drop.  Oh, his guts. After all these years…

Maybe people never changed. I could almost see it as if it were happening before my eyes that very minute. The crowd of students jeering behind my back, calling me names. I had run into the washroom; head bowed down. School kids had interesting ways of entertaining themselves. It involved observation and undesired attention to every ‘ugly’ feature in me. It started from the most visible one – the obesity, to the most minute details – the hirsutism.

My younger self had looked at her reflection and cringed in the empty girl’s washroom. The acne breakout burned red under the heat. I could feel the sweat glistening on my bushy eyebrows. Her body frame barely fit in the tiny bathroom mirror. “Couldn’t just blame them... I look hideous.” I had thought to myself as I searched the school bag for the pills. 

The doctor’s voice had rung in my head. “Three pills three times a day, PCOS can be controlled with the right medication and diet and exercise.” 

My mother had seemed worried all through the doctor visits, and for good reasons. I was the first in the family to present such a diagnosis. They had barely heard about this lifestyle issue that was surprisingly prevalent among millions of teenage girls around the globe. I recalled how the risk of heart disease or cancer at an older age, or even the risk of infertility had meant nothing to my younger self back then. 

My only concern, back then, had been the person I saw in the mirror every morning... and how all the students in school also seemed to notice only what I saw in the mirror. An ugly misfit.  I leave the wound open. I carelessly brush it against the walls and pointed edges. The wound grows bigger and deeper. 

I looked in the mirror. My present-self glowed in the mirror. Despite my low cooperation, all those doctor visits and medications over the years had had an impact. But I could see right through the façade. The hidden extra fat under the clothes, the acne marks, the smile with the crooked teeth. I fought only the unseen symptoms now... the mood swings, the anxiety, the binge eating. I looked at my reflection and saw the source of my misery and pain. “This body will continue to haunt me forever.” The wound festered, slowly turning into a toxic infection.

I brushed aside the messages. Put on a smile and told myself that there were more important things that required my attention. I was not going to let the bullies win again. I could not give them the satisfaction. I washed the wound. Applied ice. Put on a band aid. I moved on and forgot about the wound…. Again. 

Another day, another comment, I found myself in front of the mirror again. Only this time, I broke down crying. My blurry eyes fall on the picture of my 5-year old self, that is stuck to the edge of the mirror, the girl with a chubby face and a hearty smile. That young girl didn’t seem to worry about what others thought of her. She didn’t seem to have contemplated a million times before posing for the camera. She seems happy with herself, her little chubby hands and feet, and how she could put a smile on any face in the room. I rip off the band aid. The wound still appeared fresh. 

My reflection appeared tired. Fatigued after all these years of seeking approval.

When did that young girl grow up to be someone I hated? Since when did my own reflection give rise to feelings of hatred and shame in myself? Aren’t I enough as I am? Am I going to let a diagnosis define me? Am I eventually going to let the bullies win? After all these years of covering up my scars and wounds, I realized I did not have the energy to carry this shame anymore. I touch the wound, I could feel the insides burning. I dig deeper as the pain shoots through my body. But I dig until I take out all the pus, dirt and debris. 

Step one—Disinfect the wound. 

I wiped her tears. I apologized to my reflection for years of unkindness. I took a long hot shower. Put on my favorite clothes. I beamed at myself in the mirror and told myself– “You are beautiful and you are enough.”

Step two—Stitch up the wound carefully. 

I took a picture of myself. Unfiltered and raw. I put it up on my feed. And when my best friend commented, I smiled and replied, “thank you.”

Step three—Keep the wound clean and dry in the coming days.

I continued to listen to my body, giving it water, food and importantly, love. I reminded my body every day that I loved it no matter how it looked. I thanked my body for everything it did for me, day in and day out. Wounds don’t heal with time. Tissues grow over them. The pain lessens. It scars.

Step four—Avoid picking at scabs.

I discovered the block feature in my social media accounts. I wrote more about body positivity and acceptance. I began reading and following healthcare for PCOS. I learn to live with the scars.

Step five—Let the air in.

I smiled at myself in the mirror every morning. I was looking at my favorite companion. I looked down at my arms, the scars were not visible anymore.  

“Look down at your body

whisper

There is no home like you.”

– Rupi Kaur

Millions of young girls around the globe suffer from PCOS at a very young age. But many do not know enough about the condition or its consequences. 

Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) is a hormonal disorder common among women of reproductive age. Women with PCOS may have infrequent or prolonged menstrual periods or excess male hormone (androgen) levels. The ovaries may develop numerous small collections of fluid (follicles) and fail to regularly release eggs. The exact cause of PCOS is unknown. Early diagnosis and treatment along with weight loss may reduce the risk of long-term complications such as type 2 diabetes and heart disease.

Bullying can lead to invisible scars. Both of these topics are very close to my heart and I have wanted share my experiences with it for a long time. Please give this a read and share your feedback. 

Educate yourself, keep yourself informed and look out for the signs, in yourself and in others.
If you ever need to talk, I am here to lend an ear 😊

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Ramitha Ramesh is a psychologist in the making. She’s a cinephile, reader, and music lover who is grateful for all the art that ever touched her life.

A version of this essay first appeared in Invisible Illness.

How Mindfulness Works

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And why it’s easier for some people to reap the benefits.

Mindfulness has invaded the world of popular psychology (aka “pop psych”). Unlike some trends and fad treatment methods (e.g., pseudo-therapy apps), there seems to be a lot of empirical evidence to support that mindfulness training can, in fact, have a positive impact on mental health.

Specifically, practicing mindfulness over time can improve the control you have over your attention (Chambers, Lo, & Allen, 2008; Moore & Malinowski, 2009; Watier & Dubois, 2016) and decrease negative emotions, such as anxiety (Ortner, Kilner, & Zilazo, 2007).

What is mindfulness exactly?

Mindfulness, often defined as the act of purposely and non-judgmentally paying attention to the present moment (Kabat-Zinn, 2003), derives from Buddhist contemplative techniques and traditions.

There are many different types of mindfulness meditations that you can engage in. For beginners, mindfulness meditations are often guided by an experienced instructor.

The mindfulness instructor may ask you to release any judgment or evaluation of the thoughts appearing in your mind. You simply have to observe them: “Observe your breath flowing in and out. If your mind starts to wander, gently move your attention back to your breathing.”

If you’ve tried this, you might have noticed that mindfulness can be really challenging. Let’s take a closer look at the way it works so we can understand why it can be a challenge for some more than others:

How does mindfulness work?

Research indicates that there are mechanisms unique to mindfulness, compared to other emotion regulation techniques, that can explain why it helps us manage our emotions.

In comparison to emotion regulation strategies that aim to change your negative feelings (e.g. cognitive reappraisal), mindfulness aims to increase your awareness and acceptance of those feelings (Chambers et al., 2009). Ironically, observing and accepting your emotions can end up changing them a great deal, or at the very least, can reduce their intensity.

To help with acceptance, mindfulness first requires you to control your attention to your emotions, allowing you to merely observe them without distraction. Focusing your attention on something also requires ignoring information that may be distracting (Ochsner & Gross, 2005). For example, when you meditate, you will likely have unpleasant thoughts that automatically appear in your mind:

“I feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m bored.”

“When will this start to work?”

When you have these thoughts, mindfulness requires that you to notice them, and then reorient your attention back to your breath, for instance, or whatever it is you are aiming to focus on.

By using mindfulness techniques, you reduce brain activity related to negative thinking and increase activity in brain areas associated with attention. One neuroimaging study by Zeiden et al. (2014) found that reducing temporary feelings of anxiety through the use of mindfulness techniques increased activation in brain regions linked to attentional control (i.e., the prefrontal cortex).

Why is meditation easier for some than for others?

Research suggests that, in general, meditating improves with practice. Experienced meditators show enhanced attentional control compared to non-meditators (Lutz et al., 2008; Moore & Malinowski, 2009).

However, there are various factors that make meditation more difficult for some than for others.

1. If you tend to be an anxious person in general, mindfulness may be harder (at least at first) for you (Walsh et al., 2009). This is because anxiety interferes with our ability to control our attention. According to attentional control theory (Eysenck et al., 2007), anxiety increases our attention to threat-related stimuli (e.g., scary news articles, intrusive thoughts, etc.), which decreases attention to whatever is relevant to accomplishing our goals. As a result, anxiety can make it harder to focus while meditating.

2. Individuals who struggle with controlling their attention, such as those with ADHD or sustained attention problems, may have more difficulties with mindfulness. Since attentional control is one of the main mechanisms unique to mindfulness practice, those struggling with their attention can have an especially hard time implementing mindfulness techniques.

3. Personality factors can change how quickly mindfulness will start to work for you. The higher you are an neuroticism (i.e., the tendency to experience more negative emotions on a daily basis, including anxiety, depression, and self-doubt), the more practice it will take to improve at mindfulness (Nyklíček & Irrmischer, 2017). If you think about it, this actually makes a lot of sense. Neuroticism makes it difficult to take your attention away from negative thoughts, memories, or emotions. The more negative thoughts and emotions you have that can interfere with your ability to concentrate, the harder it will be to meditate.

To be clear, individuals scoring higher on these traits are not resistant to the benefits of mindfulness; they may just need more practice.

In fact, mindfulness training has proven to be an effective treatment for individuals with attentional deficits (Cairncross & Miller, 2016). Additionally, one meta-analysis of 209 different studies using mindfulness-based therapy (MBT) found that mindfulness significantly improved symptoms of anxiety and depression (with sustained benefits over time), and that participants showed improved mindfulness abilities after treatment.

What can we take away from this?

Mindfulness is widely advertised nowadays and made to look easy. However, the truth is that mindfulness meditation takes practice for most people and can be especially difficult for individuals struggling with their mental health.

If meditating is hard for you, patience and practice will be essential. In fact, practicing mindfulness may be even more beneficial for those who have difficulties with it, since it can lead to substantial, positive improvements in daily functioning. If you stick with it, you will likely experience a large improvement in your daily mood, concentration, and quality of life.

Those who experience more difficulties implementing mindfulness techniques may benefit more from guided, rather than self-directed, meditations where an instructor walks you through what to focus on. Guided meditations can be found through a quick search on Youtube.com (e.g., see “10-Minute Meditation For Anxiety” by Goodful).

Many therapists who incorporate mindfulness techniques in their treatment methods (e.g., MBT or DBT) can also guide you through what steps to take.

Given the promising research on mindfulness’ potential to improve well-being, taking the time to meditate each day will be a worthwhile endeavor.

Have you tried mindfulness practices to help with anxiety? How did it work for you?

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Jessica Birg is a Clinical Psychology PhD student and artist.

Why I Started Writing About My Anxiety Disorder

Photo of rocky beach in Queensland, Australia, where the author is from. Photo credit

I wanted to help others (and myself).

I struggled with anxiety my whole life and didn’t even know it. I thought that everyday life was meant to be this hard and that I needed to keep pushing through like everyone else. Last year, I was diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD). It changed everything.

I now understand why I worried about every little thing all the time. Why I would have anxiety attacks over seemingly nothing. Why my body was exhibiting strange and difficult symptoms that slowly beat me down each and every single day.

Once I was able to understand GAD, I began to explain to friends and family why I was the way that I was. Almost everyone was shocked as I had hidden it well beneath an extroverted personality and confident manner.

When I tried to find a support forum or a site that I could relate to and help me with GAD, I came up with practically nothing (except for Beautiful Voyager). Anxiety awareness seemed to be buried beneath many other serious mental disorders and issues. I think this is due to the stigma that people with anxiety were merely irrationally dramatic worriers. What they don’t know is it’s actually a physical response to dangers that is seen everywhere by our mind and body. We cannot control it.

This is the reason why I decided to start my blog. Firstly, I wanted to challenge this stigma and educate everyone on what anxiety disorders really are. Secondly, I wanted to share my experiences in the hopes that it can help people. And thirdly, I wanted to create a community of informed individuals to share awareness and help those suffering in silence.

Whether you are struggling yourself, or perhaps you have a friend or family member with this disorder, I can share with you my experiences and knowledge to help you through this as best as I can.

You are not alone. 

Love always, Anxious Butterfly

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Nicole lives on the sunny Gold Coast in Queensland Australia. She is the creator of Anxious Butterfly, where she share her life story and embarrassing escapades to raise awareness about anxiety disorders.

My Health Anxiety

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It’s worse at night. It’s 11pm, I’m lay in bed reading a book, alarm set for eight, and suddenly my brain connects my recent fatigue, a sore throat, and choking on the quorn nuggets I ate for dinner (which FYI are delicious) into a fear that I may have some sort of incurable cancer. I open google, which is never a good thing yet I convince myself I’m being responsible checking on my health, and my mind spirals out of control when the symptoms I’ve been experiencing lead me onto the NHS page for oesophagus cancer. I’m overwhelmed, scared, panicked. I need someone to help me stop this disease but the doctors aren’t open, nobody is awake, nobody can help. What if the endoscopy I had 6 months ago missed something? What if I’ve been ignoring symptoms and it’s too late? What if the doctor won’t send me for tests due to coronavirus?

These are some of the thoughts that pass through my mind when I’m having a health induced panic attack. Let me put in boldly, health anxiety sucks. There’s no positive spin I can put on it, simply put, it sucks. It has affected nearly every aspect of my life at some point, friends, education, dating, work performance, life events, but in the last year I’ve managed to take some control over my thoughts and fears revolving around health, the first step, acknowledging what I experience is an anxiety.

Recognizing my thoughts and fears are an anxiety remains a big step to help manage my brain from spiraling out of control. I’ve learnt that health anxiety is different for every person. I hope that reading some of my experiences can aide in recognizing anxiety within health, and will aide you in knowing that you are not alone.

My anxiety comes in phases, these can last from a few hours, to more consuming phases that can last weeks, months, and more severely, years. I have never worried about getting a cold, or a throat infection, or breaking my arm, my anxiety is sparked by diseases that are fatal. They are sparked from various triggers, hearing about a disease for the first time, finding out the reason for somebody’s death was an incurable illness, watching medical TV dramas, finding symptoms.

When experiencing a phase my mind feels out of control. I find a lump under my armpit, or I realise that my bowel pattern has altered, I play out the events in my mind of what could happen if I have a disease Google has so kindly told me I have. This opens the floodgates of thoughts that race across my mind…. Did I catch it too late? How will I tell people I love? Why isn’t anybody taking this serious? I can’t fully control my health, that sparks panic in me. I can control what I eat, I can control curing tonsillitis with antibiotics, but I find it hard to comprehend there’s even the slightest possibility that my chest pain could be a heart attack and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Last year I decided to try CBT for my Health Anxiety. I reached out to a fantastic young person organization in Manchester called 42nd Street for support. I felt stupid at first, like this wasn’t a real issue, like I didn’t deserve to be taking up somebody’s time. Often my anxiety was dismissed by others when I started talking openly about my dark thoughts as silly or with someone claiming they’re also a ‘big hypochondriac’. It was hard to explain that I can’t concentrate on an assignment right now or the reason I’m a little quiet tonight is because I’m scared that the cough I have is the starting of lung cancer, without feeling like I was being ridiculous. I couldn’t convey how consuming and lonely the feeling is. I’d trick myself into thinking I’m overreacting for a brief moment, then stay up all night looking into the details of a disease that I can’t possibly even have because I’m not over sixty and female. CBT was the first time I was able to openly explore what I was feeling and rationalise my experiences out loud with someone guiding me through my thoughts.

We looked back at when I first remembered experiencing my fear of getting a serious illness. Two vivid phases stand out in my mind. One where I feared I had a heart murmur or something was wrong with my heart. I was probably fourteen at the time, I remember checking my pulse excessively throughout the day, leaving class in school to check that my heart beat felt normal, when I had a slight pain in my chest the only thing that would comfort me was going to A&E. I’d panic my parents and we’d drive to the hospital, sometimes even just sitting in the car park at the hospital would calm me down and I’d tell my concerned parents that I’m ok. Another time I was having headaches in Year 11, the headaches were bad, I googled and the only possible solution was I had a brain tumour. There were several triggers that sparked this phase, a phase that lasted over a year, including a scene on Waterloo Road where a girl who was having headaches developed an incurable tumour that resulted in her death, an in-depth story from a classmate on how her father recently passed away from a brain tumour, and a nurse who said she was ‘heavily concerned’ when I told her I’d been having headaches. It consumed me. I was convinced I was dying. I was frustrated that I wasn’t being taken seriously and nobody was sending me for tests. I took time off school loosing motivation for exams that I felt no longer mattered, I distanced myself from friends, I spent the majority of the day thinking about what could happen, all at the age of fifteen – that’s a lot of a fifteen-year-old to carry on their shoulders. It was only when after numerous doctors’ appointments one doctor asked me why my hair was so wet that he suggested seeing if the headaches went away with a simple blow dry – which they did.

I discovered my biggest fear in these sessions. Turns out my biggest fear is realising I have a disease that I didn’t catch in time. I cried a lot when I first said that out loud. I’d never said those words out loud before. My counsellor didn’t make me feel like that was stupid, didn’t tell me how to change what I was feeling, she empathised “that must be a hard burden to carry on your shoulders, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you.” Someone realised how this was affecting me. This feeling is real.

Another thing I explored is when a phase went away. I made a diary of every serious illness I’d feared that I could have, and what happened that made that overwhelming feeling evaporate. Although it was different for each experience, I found that the most frequent occurrence was knowing I’m getting help. Feeling like I’m being tested would ease my panic often before even knowing the results. My irrational thoughts sometimes immediately evaporated as soon as I got the NHS letter through the door for a CT scan. I know that action is being taken, and somehow realise how irrational I’ve been almost overnight. It clicked, sometimes I’m not necessarily scared of the symptoms of a disease or even the disease itself, I’m panicked that I’m not being taken seriously enough. When you’ve convinced yourself that you have a potentially fatal disease and a doctor brushes it off as a virus you suddenly feel powerless. Nobody is helping me and my world is falling apart. Something as simple as an out of hours’ test couple be the difference between life and death, so why aren’t they sending me for tests? Save me. I sometimes wish that I could be tested for every disease possible on a regular basis, I get frustrated still that this is out of my control.

I told my councillor at 42nd street that I’m scared that I’m never going to be able to overcome my heath anxiety because there’s always something that could be something. As soon as one lump clears, a pain develops elsewhere. We did some exercises that helped with symptoms. One was focusing on different parts of my body, and recognising that when I’m excessively focused on a symptom, for example constantly touching and examining my throat for tonsil cancer is bound to cause some irritation to my throat, creating a symptom (FYI I have very big tonsils and it’s not a pretty sight – sorry to all the doctors who’ve had to endure extensive examinations). Focusing so intensely on symptoms of a disease can create them. Your mind is powerful.

A big problem I still struggle with is acceptance, I discussed this a lot in my CBT. Accepting that, no matter how minute, there is a possibility of getting seriously sick. I’m not completely able to settle with this, but I can do things to help. Now I realise that what I suffer with health anxiety, just knowing this sometimes settles my mind. I don’t try to push away the thought, I can sit with it a little better knowing that I’m experiencing anxiety, and hopefully it passes. Often, it doesn’t, and I can easily spiral into a phase. To avoid this I limit habits, or at least attempt to. Big habits for me I realise include Googling symptoms and/or diseases (never Google anything, ever), excessively trying to get reassurance from friends that I’m ok, worrying that I either a) haven’t been sent for a test, or b) the test somehow got mixed up and I didn’t get the right result. These habits are symptoms of a serious illness, and that illness is health anxiety.

Something I still don’t know the answer to is what is normal and what isn’t normal. It’s important to check things for your health, I know more than anyone. I sometimes feel like I could pass an exam to become a junior doctor with the amount of research time I’ve put in. But when is too much? When are you ignoring every probability that you are absolutely fine and obsessing over the fraction of possibility that you have something worse than a general cold? I don’t know the answer, that’s something I struggle with. That is hard. I can’t ignore my health completely, all I can do is try to manage my anxiety in a way that it doesn’t affect my quality of life, like I know Health Anxiety can.

I live a busy life. A doctor once told me something that often reassures me: “Cancer moves fast, so the fact that your symptoms aren’t getting worse is a good sign that this isn’t anything serious.’ Sometimes time is on your side, and eventually enough time has passed for you know you don’t have something serious, or for you to forget to focus on your symptoms completely. Sometimes my midnight fear that I have a pain in my groin clears when the following day I rush around a rehearsal all day, get home, and realise that I haven’t had a pain at all since I’ve not been prodding the area in a search for lumps.

A game changer happened to me in the past year. For the first time in my entire life, I discovered I had something. Through all of the years of phases and fears, appointments, and late night online forums, none of my fears ever resulted to be even remotely close to true. I came back from a trip to Korea (South of course), and upon return, I vomited some blood. I actually wasn’t worried, but my mum took me to A&E to be on the safe side. I was sent for a test called a gastroscopy, which is a tube that has to go down your oesophagus and examine your stomach. It’s pretty grim, and if you ever have to have one, I implore you to get sedated – which is also kind of fun when you’ve done it and aren’t googling the fatality rate in outpatient sedations. I found out that I had a hernia in my belly and had severe GERD. My oesophagus was scarred, and my stomach wasn’t in a good way. I was told if I wouldn’t have had the procedure when I did then I could have had an internal rupture in the next few years. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d had symptoms for a long time for GERD and a hiatus hernia. After going for meals I’d often vomit, I’d have to stay up at night often because of acid reflux, yet this was the one thing I’d never been concerned about. It was almost normal after experiencing it for so long. It was only when I starting treatment that I realised what it was like to have a meal and not feel like you need to be sick for the next six hours. In fact, I actually had to call the doctor because I thought there was something wrong which clearly was the opposite, clearly not heathy to be sick after every other meal. I spoke with a friend of mine about it, and something clicked, my friend suggested maybe the anxiety I’d been feeling towards searching for an illness that I didn’t have was my body’s way of telling me that something wasn’t quite right, and I was vesting that in the wrong places. This was a big turning point for me. Knowing that my worst fear was coming true, I had something that could be serious, didn’t feel as scary as I thought it would, it was being dealt with, I am ok.

Throughout my adulthood my health anxiety has affected many aspects of my life. In relationships I’ve obsessed over partners’ sexual health, I’ve quit jobs during phases where I don’t want to waste any time, I’ve cut off friends who brushed off dark periods as an overreaction. Health anxiety has always been with me, I’ve accepted this is something that can’t be wiped away, but I’m in control now, I can accept my thoughts, I can recognise my anxiety and cut out habits without being neglectful to my health. I’ve been lucky that my phases have become less frequent, there’s been months and months where I haven’t been worried about my health, but I’ve been changed by understanding how lucky I am to be healthy and well. I now realise the gift of being a so-called ‘hypochondriac’ (a phrase that seems to be joked by often), the gift is appreciating the time I have when I have overcome a phase, I realise the luxury I have that many don’t have to be able to feel everything is ok.

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John is an actor, singer, and writer from Manchester in the UK. He is passionate about telling stories for groups that are unrepresented within film, music, and media, particularly how masculinity and mental health is portrayed.

John studied Television & Radio at the University of Salford. He is currently undertaking his MA at the Academy of Live and Recorded Arts in Professional Acting.

This past year John has been working on a memoir that explores his discovery of his own masculinity being a young adult. Alongside writing and performing John performs as a singer/songwriter, his recent single ‘Worth’ with Chris Durkin was released to a positive reception, and he is the lead singer of the band China Moon.

Whilst at university John blogged his studies on a previous student blog, and now as a young adult desires to pursue blogging about mental health.

I'm a Stubborn Middle-Aged Guy With an Anxiety Disorder

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I am a stubborn, idiotic, typical guy, age 40. That’s the best way I can describe myself. Sounds a little harsh, I know, but ever since I can remember I have been so rigid in my ways, and so stubborn in my outlook on life, especially when it came to my anxiety disorder.

Imagine your typical guy, drinking 3–4 days per week with his buddies, working a regular 9–5 job (not particularly headed anywhere), avoiding the doctor at all costs, scoffing at any advice given, eating whenever and whatever I wanted, working out sporadically, just struggling through life strapped with a bad anxiety disorder. I think the one quality I inherited from my father was this incredibly stubborn personality, and the thought that a “real man” did not need doctors, or that mental health even needed to be addressed.

The underlying anxiety disorder that I have had since I was a child was always there, in the background, popping up in waves, and I was resistant to even acknowledge it, let alone do anything to make it better. The situation just kept getting worse and worse, panic attacks more frequent and longer lasting, and me just increasing my self-medication with more avoidance, more alcohol, more drugs. Then, the tipping point came. I had a full-on panic attack breakdown, while massively hungover at work facing a day full of meetings with new clients, boss right next to me, I just completely broke down. I was a sniffling, crying, shaking, heart-pounding, borderline heart attack complete mess. I think the hangover was what pushed it over the edge, or maybe the fact the day would be so long, or the fact that meeting new people always puts me into anxiety mode, but I was forced to bolt, escape, run away. I made up some bogus excuse about not feeling well, not sure exactly what I said to tell the truth, but I think my boss could tell something was up, especially since I still had some tears in my eyes from full on cry-barfing minutes earlier, who knows, maybe he smelled the booze from the night before. I raced home, took a few shots of Jameson and a couple Xanax I had from a friend and proceeded to hide under my covers for the rest of the day wondering if I should go to the ER. I called out the following day as well. It was a feeling of complete and utter hopelessness, filled with dread, heart racing, just wondering what the future would hold for me. I could not stop thinking about the future and the anxiety ruminations continued on and on for days. I was forced to conclude that I needed to find some help, I could not live like this anymore. It was either find help or find a way to off myself in a painless, cowardly way.

I am now able to say that I am obliterating my anxiety disorder, like a Ferrari racing against a Saab, destroying it. Here are the steps I took, and what I changed to make this happen.

Stubborn Idiot Seeks Help

This was perhaps the toughest part for me. I do not like doctors or their stupid, sterile, boring offices, with their old magazines on the rack, and bad attitude receptionists. Not to mention the smell, what is it about all doctor’s offices that make it smell like someone just cleaned with ammonia and formaldehyde? I had not been to the doctor in years, and the last time was at an urgent care clinic just to get some drugs for the flu. Where to even start? Headed to google, looked up: “competent psychiatrist in my area.” I think google can see through my sarcasm and cynicism and just presented a list of shrinks. I honestly looked for the one with the nicest website. If they could take the time to make sure their website looked sharp, was well put together, maybe they can actually help a stubborn Idiot like me. The one I finally landed on was perfect, even had pictures of their doctors so I could start my uneducated judging of them immediately, reading biographies, looking at their faces, their clothing, trying to hand pick who I could stomach. Found one, called, made appointment, done. For now.

Appointment day came and I managed to drag myself into their office with worst case thoughts in my head the entire time. I even knew what the office would look like already, image in my head right down to the type of couch. I can say, I was pleasantly surprised when I showed up, no sterile smell, the area was warm like someone’s living room, receptionist was friendly and they were playing Bob Ross on the big screen in the waiting room, no stupid magazines. I even asked the bubbly, smiling receptionist about the Bob Ross, and she replied, studies have shown he has an amazing affect on calming anxiety and improving depression. Maybe it is his cadence, or the art, or the afro. I was pleased. Appointment went well, I guess we covered the basics that everyone does at their first meeting with a psychiatrist, but we agreed to keep meeting and he was able to introduce me to a therapist in the same office that I could meet with immediately, just to talk. This was positive. I know not everyone will luck out like this but going into it with my piss poor attitude did not bode well for the outcome, and everything worked out anyways. I guess the moral to this story could be that it does not really matter where you start, or who you meet with, you just need to get help from someone and go from there. I have kept the same therapist and psychiatrist for 2 years now, and while they have their faults, I am still too stubborn and rigid to try anyone else, that part of me has not changed and probably will not. He could have punched me in the face in our first meeting and I would probably still be seeing him. They both help, they both give me good advice, and more importantly, have set me on a medication plan that is far better than Jameson and hand me down drugs from friends.

Stubborn Idiot Tells Everyone about his Anxiety

Tell everyone. Suck up your stupid pride, put away your guy’s-guy attitude about being tough and untouchable and tell people about your anxiety disorder and what you are dealing with. Despite what I thought, I was amazed at the compassion and understanding I was met with when I opened up and told people what I was dealing with. When I told my boss, he was completely understanding and even told me he knew something was going on. He went over what we can do to move forward and told me about what our company offers for mental health. When I told my buddies, they gave me a hard time at first, some slight ribbing about being a psycho, but ultimately let me know that they were there for me and would help with anything I needed. When I told my favorite bartender, she told me she would help me cut back on alcohol and even started automatically serving me sporadic “water shots” and ginger ales. When I told my girlfriend, she broke down in tears and felt I should have told her sooner because she loves me and wants to make my life better. When I told my parents, they opened up and told me they both dealt with the same issues, and it was probably hereditary, we went over all the things they do that helps them. I felt completely relieved that I was not “in the closet” about my anxiety anymore. Now, if I am having a bad day, I don’t need to say much more, or make up an outlandish excuse about why I can’t make it to the (insert event here) they all understand and let me know they care. It is an amazing feeling not to hide anymore and need to self-medicate.

Stubborn Idiot Cuts the Bad From Life

On the advice of the aforementioned therapist and psychiatrist that I now meet with monthly, I have begun to cut the bad things out of my life. What I thought was good for me and provided a release was in fact exacerbating and making my anxiety worse. This primarily meant: Stop drinking so much! As a self-proclaimed guy’s-guy, this was difficult, but was not impossible. I did not stop cold turkey, in fact did not even stop drinking really, did not stop going to the bar to meet with my buddies. Due to my stubborn, borderline OCD tendencies, I could not just stop completely, I did things my way and changed it up. You can do the same, in your own way. First instead of going to the bar 3–4 times a week, I cut down to 2 and divided my week up the way I wanted, also predetermined by sports obligations and UFC fights. While at the bar, I promised myself to start mixing my beer and shots with water and ginger ale. I paced myself at first, slowing it all down, drinking slower, not taking up every offer for shots, and most importantly not stumbling out of the bar each time. I have now gotten to the point where I only visit the bar 1–2 times per month, and I only drink about 3 beers each time, with no shots. This way, I can still keep up with my buddies, still see my favorite bartender, and still feel like I have a life outside of work. I found that the alcohol was numbing me from feeling anything and have learned that in order to obliterate anxiety, you need to face it head on, not avoid it. Acknowledge that it is there, and it is just a feeling, that you can control and push down, or push away. Not too mention, Hangovers are incredibly anxiety inducing, avoiding those at all costs has helped immensely.

Stubborn Idiot Adds Good into Life

Now, what I thought was the good in my life, eating, drinking to excess, binging TV for hours, needed to be replaced with things that were actually good for me. I have always deemed myself quite artistic, just never took the time to explore where this took me. I have started to draw and paint a few times a week. I have found this as a cathartic activity that allows me to shut off my mind for a few hours and tap into my creativity, halting ruminations, clearing the mind. This hobby, (or any hobby that you can take up), has allowed me to self-medicate in a positive way instead of my other nefarious ways of shutting off my brain. My Therapist has also suggested finding some “brain candy” that I can also use to occupy my ever-cycling anxiety-stricken brain. My brain candy consists mostly of comedy videos. Anytime I need a small break from reality, I can search for a quick video online and hopefully squeeze out a few previously suppressed laughs. You would be surprised how helpful a little laughter, even in the bathroom stall at work, can be. The therapist droned on about how it creates dopamine in the brain and acts as an uplifting drug for your brain, hence “brain candy”. You can come up with your own method, be it comic books, reading positive articles, searching social media, whatever, just come up with some “brain candy”.

Stubborn Idiot Submits to Exercise

Let me preface this by saying the stubborn idiot in me hated to work out, previously only working out to tell people that I did it, or post on social media about a work out to see what kind of likes I got. I was forced to admit that I did actually feel better after a workout. I started small, walking around the neighborhood after work with the girlfriend. These little walks gave us time to talk, get closer to each other and I was able to get things off my chest, she didn’t even need to respond, I could just put my thoughts out into the universe, and it helped. Our walks slowly turned into going to the gym, lifting weights and doing cardio. I even get into a little Yoga now and then, which focuses on breathing, this is a huge help and taught me how to control my breathing in times of anxiety. Now, the Stubborn Idiot takes over and this has become part of my routine, I even get upset when I am unable to work out. The benefit has been, I dropped 60 pounds and feel like I have a secret weapon against my anxiety that I can jump into after work. Start small, even stay small if you want, but do something to expel the negative energy, it really helps.

Stubborn Idiot Starts Eating Better

All those articles I read about eating better, used to just piss me off. Yeah yeah yeah, I know I should eat better, I know I will feel better, but eating what I want also makes me feel good. I again started small on this one, replacing the pizza night with salad night at first. It was tough, I love pizza, I love wings, I love beer. I still give myself all of these things, just not all the time like I used to. From there, I started replacing items I indulged in with healthier options and smaller portions. Instead of a steak and mac and cheese meal, it turned into lean meat like chicken and a vegetable side. I am not saying this needs to be every night of the week, but making some small gradual changes believe it or not, helped my mental health. I do not feel like taking a nap after dinner, I feel like I am giving my body fuel, and nutrients that it needs to work positively. Even writing this out sounds corny as hell and I am aggravating myself, this stubborn idiot feels like a fraud and hypocrite, but trust me, this helps, even in small steps.

Stubborn Idiot Does All the Crap You Read About

Hypocritical, it still feels horrible to admit, but all that crap you read about, meditation, breathing exercises, mindfulness. It all works. You just need to find your niche and your way to do it, no matter how big or small. I reluctantly started to meditate, at the insistence of my girlfriend, each night for 5–10 minutes before bed. My favorite are the short clips online that have someone without a dumb voice, or ridiculous premise. I have found a few favorites that I can repeat over and over. I do this in bed, laying down and ready to go to sleep. The quick 5–10 minutes helps calm down my mind, stop my ruminations and most importantly helps me fall asleep easier. Breathing exercises follows the same idea, but this technique I can use anytime throughout the day. If I am feeling the anxiety creep in during a workday, I can take 2 minutes and start breathing deeply, bringing me back to normal. I do this either in the bathroom stall, at my desk, or in my car. Look up your own exercises online, but they are all pretty much the same, in through your nose for a count of 4, hold, then out through your mouth with pursed lips for a count of 6–8. The stubborn idiot still feels dumb about mindfulness, and I do not practice as much as I should, but when I do, it centers me. I can stop ruminating about the future, cycling crazy scenarios over and over in my head and bring my self back to the moment at hand. I find that if I don’t look to the future, or what could come with it and just focus on the exact moment I am sitting in, I can push the anxiety aside, even just for a little while.

Stubborn Idiot Handles Anxiety in the Moment

This might be the most important section, and I am saving the best for last. At this point, I have fully submitted to my anxiety disorder, it is part of my life and is not going anywhere. It will still arise at times I least expect, or times I fully expect and bring on myself. In the moment, I can obliterate it with any of the weapons I have developed. I can watch a quick video to bring a soothing laugh, I can breathe a little, I can try to be mindful but mostly, I use the S.T.O.P. method for eliminating any anxiety in the moment. This all came from my therapist and is an extensively used CBT method, super-duper corny, and textbook, the Stubborn Idiot wants to reject this BS, but it works. “S” Stop what you are doing and take a moment to pause everything. Step away if you need to, go to the bathroom, go outside, whatever, just Stop. “T” Take a few deep breaths and bring yourself back to center. Acknowledge the anxiety and realize that it is just a feeling and you can push it away. “O” Observe what is going on, within your body, your mind and bring yourself back to reality. Is this thought or feeling a reality? Most likely I am imagining a worst case scenario and not the real situation. Thoughts are not reality. Assess and Observe how you are feeling. “P” Proceed with what was going on, or do not proceed. Take what you learned when you Observed and correct your actions accordingly in a manner that makes you feel better.

Take it or leave it, I have used all these methods to take my anxiety disorder from something that controlled every moment of my life and was leading me down a path of self-destruction, to an element of my life that I can obliterate at any time, taking back control. The stubborn idiot in me will never leave, but the anxiety is not going to leave either. I needed to find a balance between the two, otherwise the stubborn idiot method would likely end in disaster. So, I guess at this point, you could call me a strong willed, mindful, typical Guy with anxiety that he is destroying in his own way. I hope you can find something useful out of my story and it helps you.

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Michael Joslin is a 40-year-old guy, originally from NY who has been living in Hawaii for the past 15 years.  He struggles with depression, anxiety and ADHD and enjoys writing about life, mental health, love, and daily musings. He says, “I am a new freelance writer getting my feet wet in this business.”