Establishing my early coping mechanisms for health anxiety was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.
It was a distant departure from the person I saw myself as—or at least the person I hoped I would one day become.
The media had fed me this idea that the only way to become somebody was to be constantly chasing success. Growing up, many people who knew me saw me as a soft-spoken leader: dependable, stable, and a relentless problem solver.
Now, I had to learn to start my days slowly.
I had to learn to wake up and stay in bed for a few extra minutes before getting up. Before stepping out of bed, I would sit quietly for a moment and take my time to be thankful for a new day.
What surprised me the most during these early stages of therapy was how much more frequent my anxiety attacks became—more frequent than they had been before I started therapy.
My therapist had warned me this might happen. He explained that our bi-weekly sessions could sometimes open up old wounds, leaving me emotionally sensitive between appointments.
Multiple times a day, I found myself practicing box breathing, grounding exercises, and reciting my mantras. At first, I only practiced them as a response to panic attacks. Before long, though, they became part of my daily routine. Every morning and every night, regardless of how I felt, I practiced my breathing exercises and repeated my mantras.
Despite therapy, I was still constantly in doubt.
There was still a large part of me that believed my physical symptoms could be real. I frequently had to fight the temptation to rush to the hospital.
My biggest anchor during this time was that I was still able to think logically. I always held on to one simple observation: every time I practiced grounding, my body began to feel calmer. That became the evidence I kept returning to whenever my mind tried to convince me that something else was seriously wrong.
This was one of my earliest realizations in therapy.
I wanted to avoid medication if I could, so this was what my recovery was going to look like.
It was going to get worse before it got better.
But it was going to be worth it.
I remembered how my father had always believed in taking a more holistic approach before turning to medication. I was honoring his wishes.
More importantly, I was determined to become the kind of person I could be proud of when I looked back on this chapter of my life.