Releasing a Physical Anxiety
December 2, 2024
Writer: Jacqueline Farnsworth
Editors: Ava Malkin & Dani Eder
Photo: Pinterest
The feeling was familiar–head pain, a blind spot in my vision, and fatigue. But then, my hand fell asleep, numb and tingly. As I shook out my hand, trying to wake it up, I grew anxious about the cause of my migraine.
Having experienced anxiety for most of my life, I was inclined to take extra precautions. However, after a CT scan and blood work, I was free to leave the hospital; nothing was wrong, despite persistent numbness and tingling.
With no clear diagnosis, the doctor asked, “Have you been feeling particularly anxious lately?”
I thought back on the previous five months. Personal issues at home undoubtedly heightened my anxiety. Back with my family for the summer, I questioned if my anxiety had reached a breaking point.
While I knew anxiety could manifest into physical symptoms, like nausea or a headache, I was unaware of how disruptive it could be. I felt trapped in an anxious cycle: My anxiety caused physical symptoms, which only increased my worries as I desperately searched for a diagnosis.
I was fortunate to be physically healthy, but that didn't mean there was a quick fix ahead. A simple dose of antibiotics would not do the trick. Evidently, neither did my weekly therapy sessions. I thought I was doing enough, but management strategies are not universally applicable.
When I thought back on my personal coping mechanisms, I began to realize I had not confided in my friends. Throughout the summer, whenever a friend asked how I was, I mindlessly replied, “Good, how are you?” While this was untrue, I never considered telling them the truth. I did not want to burden my friends, turning an upbeat summer update into a conversation of pity. I masked the root causes of my anxiety with my physical symptoms. “I had such a weird migraine,” I would say. “But don’t worry, now I’m fine.” I have always been in touch with my emotions. I pride myself on being an outlet for my friends. Although happy to take care of others, I felt uncomfortable asking for them to reciprocate–I didn’t want to let myself be the vulnerable one.
My therapist theorized that I was keeping my anxiety in, and therefore, it was forcing itself out in other ways— manifesting itself physically because I was failing to verbalize it. I had trouble grappling with this. It wasn’t until I was back at school, eating dinner with friends, that I forced myself to share. In fact, it was only when my friend told us about her own family dynamic that I gathered the courage to follow her lead.
My confession was met with hugs and words of appreciation. Later that night, one of them texted me:“I’m grateful you let us in on what is happening so we can be here to support you.”
I was thankful, but not surprised, by this reaction. I knew they would be supportive, but I remained hesitant. Now, I am undoubtedly glad that I expressed myself. If I had shared earlier, perhaps I wouldn’t have experienced the undue medical stress of the past three months.
Upon reflection, I wondered how many of my friends, peers, or family were experiencing struggles about which I knew nothing. How many of them were too afraid to share simply because they did not want to burden others? It served as a reminder for me that while I was going through a stressful period, many people around me probably were too.
Some may not be comfortable confiding in friends, but everyone’s body still needs to release its anxiety. Perhaps that means writing down your thoughts in a journal, or refilling the anxiety meds you have been putting off. Maybe it’s finding a therapist who’s right for you. Regardless, even a small release is a step toward feeling better. Take the initiative to address your anxiety before it becomes too much for your body to endure.
