150. I've diagnosed myself as a hypochondriac.
The dangers of self diagnosing yourself with things you see on the internet and how this practice has affected me personally.
Is everyone else’s Instagram explore page full of people telling you what illness you have based on a list of ten symptoms to later tell you how to solve it? Or is that just mine?
It’s true that I had issues with my gut for years and also suffered from chronic migraines but it’s also true that I healed both of those things. I got off the pill, I changed my diet and I went to therapy to improve the emotional aspects. But for some reason, I’ve still always thought that there’s something secretly wrong with me. Every time I watch one of these reels on Instagram, I automatically start to suspect that I have a new illness based on what I see. If I have a few of the symptoms mentioned in the video, I throw myself down rabbit holes on the internet trying to find enough evidence to diagnose myself with whatever the video says is the underlying issue.
When I had chronic migraines, I knew I had them without a doubt because I was in bed two days a week without being able to sit up, eat, listen to someone talk to me in the same room or open the blinds without feeling like knives were stabbing me in the back of my eyeballs.
When I had gut issues I also knew without a doubt that something was wrong with me because I couldn’t finish a meal without running to the bathroom after a few mouthfuls. Or because no matter what I’d eat, my stomach would bloat like a balloon and I’d feel intense cramps and be in pain for days. I could see and feel that something wasn’t right and there was never any doubt about it.
So if I saw professionals that helped diagnose the root cause of my health issues and have now gone years without a knock-out migraine or that crazy bloating; why do I still feel like it’s too good to be true and that I’m still broken?
Every time I see one of these videos on Instagram or I’m hyperaware in my body, I run to grab my phone and begin Googling symptoms.
“Tension in my eyes at night”
“Pain in my dominant foot while running long distances”
“Are the black lines on my tooth cavities?”
“Does ovulation cause cramps?”
I think we all know that Googling symptoms of any sort is a bad idea because no matter what, you’re always dying and should seek immediate medical help. I get it, someone’s symptoms could be life-threatening and they may need that extra push-you-off-the-cliff-feeling to head over to the doctor’s office, but most of the time I’m personally not dying, but I always believe that Google might be right. Maybe there’s something really wrong with me and I haven’t found out yet.
I don’t know where this need for knowing everything comes from. If you ask my parents I know what they’ll say. They’ll tell you that I always needed a better answer or that I never took “no” for an answer, so maybe this is simply a part of my thirst for knowledge. I love learning about things that fascinate me, for example like the human body. I think it’s the most divine, incredible piece of machinery to have ever been created and I want to understand everything about it down to a cellular level. But I’ve learned the hard way that Google isn’t the way to go.
Don’t get me wrong, I Google more normal things too like:
“How many months is 150 weeks?”
“black orange butterfly meaning”
“When did they make Ice Age 4?”
“Is Rafa Nadal married?”
If I’m honest, I think I have this underlying feeling of not being enough and that’s why I need to constantly seek for the health issue that will prove why I’m less of a person than anyone else. A big part of me believes that the human body is the most resilient and adaptable being on this planet, but another part of me believes that that doesn’t apply to my body. I think this behavior stems from feeling inadequate and inferior to other people. For some reason I find it hard to believe that I’m completely healthy and that my body works as well as anybody else’s, and I’m aware that this belief is nothing new.
I have memories of myself as a child making up ailments to get my adult’s attention. I used to put plasters over imaginary cuts and run to my parents to tell them I’d hurt myself. I’d feel happy when I fell down the stairs and started crying as adults rushed over to check I’d not split my head open. I remember feeling like the chosen one when we had a rare big family get together and my GP (grandpa) sat rubbing my tummy while I was lying on the sofa without eating because I’d suddenly gotten sick. I’d put bandages around my wrist saying I’d hurt it rollerblading and telling everyone (the adults) that I was in pain. Most of the time I was never really in pain, but somehow I’d believe my own stories so much that I became able to create pain in my body whenever I needed to. If I was worried about failing an exam, I’d wake up with a migraine. If I was nervous about a class presentation, I’d have a sudden stomach ache and need to stay home. It was my get out of jail card as well as my get attention card.
There have been times that I truly have injured myself like when I was on crutches for a couple of months after a nasty knee dislocation while skiing, or when I broke my nose in two different parts and a part of me has always loved it. Being in pain meant getting my family’s attention. I’d be the main character for the time I was in pain and I loved it.
As I’m digesting my thoughts, I’m realising that this constant search of finding what’s wrong with me must stem from a child’s desire to receive attention and affection. It’s simple math, if something is wrong with me and people are worried about my health, they’ll pay attention to me and therefore, I’ll feel loved.
I remember being around fourteen and my caretaker, Arnie, taking me to the doctor’s office to pick up my lab results. I’d fainted a few times and my mum was worried so she took me for blood tests and I remember walking out of the hospital with a golden ticket in my hand. I’d been diagnosed with anemia and a B12 deficiency. I’d hit the jackpot. Arnie took me to the supermarket in the village before taking me back to school, to buy me strawberry Danonino yoghurts to take with my brand new pills to improve absorption, and I felt like a queen. Arnie and I rang mum and dad at the office to tell them what the doctor had said and mum began to cry. She was worried and I remember feeling like it was my time to shine.
Mum started buying me lentils and fish that she didn’t know how to cook because it wasn’t something we’d eat at home. My parents began to buy special foods high in iron all for me and would “make me eat it all” to make sure I’d “get better.” They’d tell me to eat up all my spinach like Popeye to get nice and strong whilst stroking my hair and kissing me on the head. I’d happily eat bags of spinach if it meant getting this much attention while eating my dinner.
Maybe these events taught me that if there was something wrong with me, I’d get extra attention. I must have told myself to never be perfect because I’d cease to exist.
The reason this topic has been so important to me these past few weeks is because I began to spiral based on events that weren’t true.
I track my menstrual cycle using my basal body temperature to know when I’ll ovulate. However, this month my temperature wasn’t following its usual pattern and I saw no peak in temperature which on paper, meant that I hadn’t ovulated. The app I use was telling me the same thing as I thought: “no ovulation detected” and so I began to Google:
“Why didn’t I ovulate this month?”
“Anovulatory cycle”
“Reasons for anovulatory cycle”
And so it began.
My heart began to beat faster, my worries increased, my fear skyrocketed. I was going to be infertile for the rest of my life because of over-exercising and losing 5 kg this month. I read every single word on the medical page’s list of possible reasons for not ovulating and none of them made sense except for one: over-exercising. I started going on runs, lifting weights and doing pilates this month and I was now experiencing this anovulatory cycle so that must have been the culprit. Now that I knew physical activity was to blame, I had a new rabbit hole to deep dive into. I started reading about pre-run meals and post-run meals. I started to read about calories and what foods have more of them. The words protein and carbs kept popping up all over the place and the more I read, the less I thought I knew. Now I had a new reason to be weak and fragile: I was doing exercise without knowing how to feed myself or fuel myself. Of course I was going to mess up my menstrual cycle! Duh!
Here’s the plot twist: The app I use to track my cycle told me that I had in fact ovulated, but it happened a couple of days later than usual so it was waiting to confirm ovulation to make sure. How about that? I was losing sleep over not having ovulated when I had in fact ovulated. I was messaging friends in a state of panic, desperate for help to find out what I’d done wrong when everything was perfectly normal. I’d forgotten that thoughts aren’t real.
Thoughts trigger emotional responses that create more thoughts that create more emotional responses and if those thoughts aren’t healthy ones you end up without breath spiraling thinking there’s something seriously wrong with you. When in reality, it’s all in your mind and you’re making it all up. Sorry.
This whole anovulatory cycle phenomenon led me down a rabbit hole at two a.m. I was sat on the sofa Googling Traditional Chinese Medicine approaches to anovulatory cycles and what I could do about it from a more holistic approach and as a result, I ended up accidentally signing up for a TCM degree online. At two in the morning. Sat on my sofa in the dark. The university rang me the following day because obviously they’d seen I’d signed up (at two in the morning) to the degree that starts in September and costs three thousand euros I don’t have. Talk about embarrassing.
This compulsive need to know everything in reality is the need for security and control. The thirst for knowledge is simply a mask to cover up that I need to know things to feel like I can control everything that happens to me. If I know the answer to every question I might have, I’ll be in control by having knowledge to make decisions and form beliefs. If I know why things happen, I’ll have a sense of control because I’ll believe that nothing is random and I’ll be able to trace the steps back. If I know what to do when certain things happen, I’ll be in control of the outcome.
A few months ago Javi read my Human Design chart and talked me through it. The reading was awesome, but one thing stood out. She said that I had a need for controlling things to feel comfortable and I really didn’t agree. Me? Controlling? I love to flow with what life throws my way, trusting that everything will turn out alright. Why would someone that’s so open to going with the flow feel the need to control? Well, months later, I understand what came up in that reading. It’s pretty obvious that I’m good at flowing in some contexts but I’m failing the exams in others.
This Human Design realization hit me like a ton of bricks while I was falling asleep the other night. I’d been going over this compulsive spiraling behavior and this obsession with self-diagnosing myself with ailments to then heal them and become my perfect self, when I realised that maybe I do feel like I need to control my body.
I have family members that follow the exact same pattern as me and for all I know, it may just be something I learned from them and have made mine. From a very young age I’ve been given extra attention when sick and I’ve heard family members worry that their cough is lung cancer and constantly be diagnosed with new illnesses. Maybe I absorbed that behavior, integrating it as something that was mine when in reality it wasn’t. It never was mine and now it’s time for me to let go of it.
The objective reality is that I’ve never been healthier and stronger than I am now. I’ve never enjoyed doing sports as much as I do now. I’ve never had this good of a relationship with food before. So why do I feel this constant need to pick away at isolated micro-events turning them into something they’re not? I think I know the answer now and I think it’s time for me to let go of these beliefs I’ve been clinging on to with dear life.
The truth is that I no longer need an adult’s attention to feel loved because I am my own adult. I no longer need to be sick and weak to be given extra love and attention because I get it on a daily basis no matter how I’m feeling. I no longer need to make myself sick to avoid fearful situations because I can decide whether to put myself in those situation or not. I no longer need to compulsively Google search random pieces of information because I don’t need to know the answer. I don’t need to study a degree in any type of medicine to feel like I can cure myself because there are wonderful professionals out there I can resort to when needed.
Everything is in balance.
Homeostasis is any self-regulating process by which an organism tends to maintain stability while adjusting to conditions that are best for its survival.
My body knows what it’s doing and I can trust that it knows better than Google.
I’m a bit scared but also very excited to announce that I’ve created a Patreon which you can check out here: ejjjjjjhd patreon.
I’ve never wanted to put POMELO behind a paywall for various reasons, but I have been opening up to the idea of creating something else that people can pay for if they’d like to support my work. I’m beginning to value my work and understand that just as I enjoy supporting creatives, other people may feel the same way about me.
On Patreon I’ll be sharing essays similar to the ones I write here on my newsletter, I’ll be sharing book reviews, the occasional video/vlog and my favourite part yet: FIELD NOTES, which is a podcast that I record while I go on long walks and publish exactly as it’s recorded.
So far, I’ve published an essay and the first episode of FIELD NOTES without putting them behind the paywall so that you can get a feel of what to expect.
It feels really good to be experimenting with new platforms and mediums, I’m excited about creating and that in itself is exactly what I needed right now.
P.S. This essay marks 150 weeks of writing and publishing. I never (ever) thought I’d be capable of doing this, but we did it. Thank you for being here :)
this one resonated soooo much
Sounds like a profound understanding, well done!