- User type
- OCD Conqueror
- Date posted
- 34w
A Letter to my Health OCD
Take a deep breath. These words are not just about a list of fears; they’re about the journey you’ve been on, the emotional weight you’ve carried, and the intense anxiety that has shaped so much of your life. Every one of these fears is a reflection of how deeply your anxiety takes hold of you, how real and overwhelming it feels in the moment, and how exhausting it is to live with that constant sense of dread. Each time, you were certain something catastrophic was happening. You felt it in your body, in your chest, and in every thought that spiraled out of control. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true; in those moments, it was so real, and that fear gripped you like a vice. It wasn’t just unease—it was total consumption. You were in a constant battle with your mind, desperately trying to calm the storm, to find an answer. And the truth is, you were looking for certainty in places where there were none. This is the nature of Health OCD—it convinces you that unless you have an absolute answer, you can never stop fearing the worst. Your mind wouldn’t let you rest, wouldn’t let you be okay with “I don’t know.” It demanded answers immediately, putting a pressure on you that no one should ever have to face. How badly you wanted to silence the fear with an answer that would give you peace. You spent hours in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every freckle, every mole, every change in your skin. You were looking for reassurance—so much reassurance. You went to the dermatologist, hoping that would ease your mind, but it didn’t quiet the anxiety. You couldn’t stop thinking about your breasts, and so you went for exams over and over, convinced that each ache meant something was wrong. Every time, nothing was wrong, but the anxiety remained. Your mind kept searching for something to hold onto, something that could confirm the worst. And the cycle continued. It’s exhausting. It feels like wasted time, like you’ve been robbed of peace. But the truth is, this isn’t your fault. This is how your brain is wired, and it’s a battle you didn’t choose. Then, there were the panic attacks. The moments when fear took on a life of its own. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing, convinced something was seriously wrong, and the fear would take over—physically, mentally, emotionally. Your body would shake uncontrollably, you’d throw up from the intensity of the fear, your chest would tighten, and you’d feel like you couldn’t breathe. You rushed to urgent care, terrified of everything—your veins, your heart, your chest, your head. You were certain that something terrible was just around the corner, but each time, you were told it was nothing. And yet, in the frantic search for certainty, your mind couldn’t accept that. You feared even the smallest things—a cough, a sore throat—convinced that they meant something major. You couldn’t escape those thoughts, no matter how hard you tried. Your mind latched onto every symptom, every feeling, twisting it into something catastrophic. It was like taking one small thing and amplifying it into an overwhelming, undeniable certainty. It was exhausting. The pressure never let up, making everything feel like a matter of life or death, when in reality, it wasn’t. But anxiety doesn’t see it that way, and that’s what makes it so difficult. Looking back, it’s easy to feel like you’ve wasted so much time. So many hours spent on Google, reading forums, searching for answers that your brain desperately needed. But hear this: you weren’t wasting time. Your brain was in overdrive, trying to protect you in the only way it knew how. It was searching for anything that could offer peace. It didn’t know how to sit with uncertainty, how to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing. And that’s where the spiral began. But this isn’t your failure. This is something you’re living with, something that makes life harder, but it doesn’t define you. Health OCD is real, and it’s okay to acknowledge that this is a huge struggle. The truth is, you made it through. You’ve done it. You’ve faced those terrifying, suffocating fears, and you are still here. You’ve survived every wave of panic, even when you thought you wouldn’t. You have always made it through, even when it felt unbearable. That is no small thing. You are tired. You’ve lost time to fear, time spent searching for reassurance. It’s frustrating to feel like so much energy has been spent on things that never happened. But please don’t be hard on yourself. This is a battle you didn’t choose, and you’ve done the best you could. This is hard, and it’s okay to acknowledge how hard it is. The fear doesn’t define who you are. Your anxiety is not who you are. You are so much more than these thoughts and feelings. The next time the anxiety comes, when the panic creeps in and your brain starts searching for certainty again, come back to this truth: You’ve been through it before. You’ve made it through every time. Each wave of fear, each moment when you thought it would never end, has passed. You survived it. And you’ll survive it again. You don’t need to know everything right now. You don’t need all the answers. It’s okay to sit with uncertainty. The fear you feel is not a sign that something bad will happen. It’s just anxiety, and it will pass. You’ve got this. You’ve already proven how strong you are. You’ve already shown yourself that you can handle it, even when it feels impossible. So now, it’s time to let go of the shame, the doubt, and the endless search for answers. You are enough as you are, right now, in this moment, with all the uncertainty. You’ve faced fear before, and you’ll face it again—stronger, wiser, and more capable than ever. Each time you’ve made it through, you’ve built resilience. And this time, you’ll stand even taller. You are capable. You are stronger than you know. And you are never alone in this.