[I really need to share that I searched stock photos for ‘anxiety’ and this photo came up and I thought… yes… yes, this is right]
I usually write these essays on Tuesdays. After I’m done writing them, I outline what I’m going to talk about in my mini pod. The next day (or, if I’m distracted, the day after), I record the audio and send it off to my editors in the hopes that I can turn everything around and publish it over the course of the next few days. Do I stick to this schedule every week? No, but I try, and I know that when I do, my entire schedule flows more smoothly. I don’t fall behind. It leaves room for delays or distractions. I feel prepared for the week ahead. I also know that if I get to Friday and I haven’t even written the essay… well, things start to fall apart really quickly after that. So, anyway, I guess this is as good a time as any to say: hello from Friday.
This is now week two of being very, very behind on my Substack schedule (something that is probably much more obvious to me than it is to any of you), and though I planned weeks ago for this post to be a fun, casual gift guide with some of my favorite picks for the season, here’s the truth: November arrived, and my brain broke a little bit. And despite the fact that this has happened to me every year for the majority of the last decade, I somehow am surprised by it every year. Now, could it be a coincidence that stressful/sometimes traumatic events happen to fall in the second week of November every single year? Sure. Could it be a coincidence that my darkest, most life-interrupting health anxiety spirals seem to happen during this time of year? Of course. Is any of this helped by daylight savings and the fact that I can practically see stars outside by 4:30 p.m. now? Probably not. All I know is that whatever strange concoction of factors may be at work seems to always result in me being a total fucking mess by mid-November. So the truth is that for the last two weeks I’ve been experiencing the worst health anxiety moment I’ve had in years — the worst since my last major spiral which, wouldn’t you know it, also happened mid-November, in 2020.
If you’re unfamiliar with health anxiety, let me explain what it’s like. The first step is that I experience a symptom, any symptom. You name it, I’ve wondered about it. Indigestion. Heart palpitations. Muscle pain. Cramps. Headaches. And sure do I, like any good anxious adult, briefly wonder if I’m having a brain bleed every single time I have a minor headache? Of course. It crosses my mind, floats across my consciousness and makes me wonder if it’s a good idea to start crafting the playlist for my own funeral now or later. But usually, I let it float on by. Ignore it. I tell myself if it sticks around, then I’ll worry. If it goes away by the next day, I’m good. Great. Funeral playlist creation delayed. Now, if that headache stays for days, or weeks… well, that is when things (and by things I mean me, obviously) start to break down.
I made a deal with myself a long time ago that I don’t Google my symptoms and I only make a doctor’s appointment if a symptom has persisted for two weeks. Ninety-nine percent of the time, whatever I’m feeling doesn’t even stick around for two days, let alone two weeks. But I’m a human being so as you can imagine, sometimes things do stick around. And that is when I start to lose all rational self-control. If I’m not in a great place already, it’s also when I Google the symptoms, anyway. This is despite the fact that most of the time, on some level, I already know what I’m looking for on the internet.
It is going to seem bizarre, but if I’m experiencing gastrointestinal issues, for example, I’m not Googling in hopes of finding the thousands of less-deadly things that could be causing them. At this point in the spiral, those things don’t matter. I’m Googling for colorectal cancer signs, obviously, knowing damn well that whatever symptoms I’m experiencing are going to be on the list. Are those same symptoms caused by — wait for it — anxiety? Yes, yes they are. But that doesn’t matter to me. And so I go deeper into the message boards, the chat rooms, the ‘my cancer story’ articles. I also read posts from people who are having the same health anxiety spirals I am and almost laugh at them. Obviously, they are fine, I’ll think. Statistically, they are fine. But me? Well. Someone has to be in the one percent, or the five, or the ten (trust me, I know the percentages, too, by this point). When I get to this point, any still-present symptom becomes confirmation of what I already feel in my core: Something is very, very, very wrong. The depths of the anxiety I feel about it tell me that isn’t just anxiety, but a gut feeling that something is deeply wrong. And sure, I could ignore it all, believe all the many reasons that it is probably nothing. Because what if it’s not? And, you know, time is of the essence. Gotta catch it early.
It embarrasses me to write about this, of course. I know how it sounds, how it is. I can easily recall the time I’ve paid hundreds of dollars for a EKG at Urgent Care, the time I went to the ER for abdominal pain, the time I convinced myself I had adrenal cancer. I could get into the specifics of all of these experiences, of what led me to those moments (all of which felt really rational at the time, by the way), or what exactly I’m experiencing right now, symptom-wise, but the short version of most of it is: I was utterly convinced that it was the worst case scenario, and I was wrong. Every time, I was wrong. I have had days where I was so distraught you would have thought I had actually been diagnosed with something. One time, I cried so much I literally gave myself a stye. (And, yes, you better believed I then found a way to convince myself that that, too, was a symptom of the terrible disease I feared.) But no, I had just diagnosed myself. I know all of this now, too, when I’m in the middle of a spiral, but still I think: What if this is the time I’m right? Eventually, I think, I have to be right. If you’re thinking: Wow, that sounds exhausting, you would be correct. But you know, it’s also kind of funny. Which is why I’m here.
For example: Do you know what my first thought was when I woke up this morning, after a particularly bad health anxiety day yesterday? I thought: I wonder if I could record a video of myself to play at my funeral so it’s like, you know, I’m there but also not. I played out this whole bit I could do in the video where I could talk about how the video was my way of trying to control something I couldn’t be present for, but I guess in the end, joke was on me there. Dark, but you know, funny. Not me trying to romanticize my own hypothetical funeral, guys! I’m sure this will come as a shock to most of you, but it’s actually really hard to focus on things like work and schedules and general life tasks when you’re thinking about things like what your husband will do with the house when you’re gone and what you’re going to wear to your own funeral even though you want to be cremated. But this is my brain. It’s a gremlin, sometimes. A fucking deranged hamster with ‘roid rage on cursed, gigantic hamster wheel. A series of fun house mirrors and dead ends where somehow I keep arriving back on the WebMD home page. But I know I can’t be the only one who feels this way, so, naturally, I’m writing about it. And at this exact moment, I’m pleased to report I feel good. Like everything is fine. There is of course a voice that says, “Remember that post you read from the person who *also* said everything was fine but then they were wrong and ended up regretting that they didn’t take it more seriously?” I’m imagining the evil hamster saying that now, by the way. A dark Alvin & The Chipmunks vibe, if you will. Maybe we have a mascot now: Health anxiety hamster, here to derail your body and mind.
Because Health Anxiety Hamster™ has planned out most aspects of my imagined terminal diagnosis and subsequent life decisions, I’ve often thought about what would happen if I spent all this time thinking and talking about health anxiety beforehand and eventually something was wrong. Would I be happy I had worried so much? Would I be comforted by that? I don’t think the answer would ever really be yes. So as much as I like to tell myself during these spirals that I’m protecting myself by being so scared, I also tell myself this, too. That even if the worst does happen one day, I wouldn’t be thankful for all the hours I wasted worrying. All the ways I felt sad and scared before I ever really had to be.
Anyway. Look. Here’s the gist of things. It’s November. And it’s dark at 4 p.m. now. And it’s the six year anniversary of my friend dying. And my body feels weird. And I’m anxious and unfocused and behind on a lot of things, this Substack included. And at this very moment, on this exact day, I’m worried that something not feeling quite right means the worst for the first time in a very long time. But I’m also writing about it, already feeling lighter and better. I’m going to go on a long walk after this, take some deep breaths of fresh, cold air. I’m proud of myself for recently finding a therapist to work with in the new year. I’m using this is as a reminder to finally find a new primary care physician here in New York, to book a physical. I’m listening to my body, yes, but also to my rational mind, which is way smarter and hotter and cooler and generally less terrifying than the hamster, by the way. And my rational, hot, cool mind says that I’ve been here before, and I’ll feel better again. It won’t always be November. I won’t always be worried. I will feel like myself again. And in the meantime, I will be gentle with myself.
A portion of November’s subscriber proceeds will go toward Save the Children to support its work in providing essential services and support to children affected by violence in Israel and Gaza.
I really feel and relate to every word of this! And the idea of ‘trusting your gut instincts’ just adds more pressure, doesn’t it. My gut..? Where my anxiety lives..?
Thank you for writing this and sending love 🤍
I could’ve written this. In the bit where you wrote about the spirals, the googling, and convincing yourself you must be the 5%... I honestly thought I was reading a note-to-self. Sorry you’re going through it right now ❤️