Now it was time to find a therapist.
When I was younger, I had been diagnosed with depression. My mother found a psychiatrist for me, who prescribed antidepressants that I took for about two years. I was only sixteen, and I don’t remember much about what being on antidepressants felt like.
What I do remember is my father’s concern.
He noticed a change in my personality and became convinced that I should stop taking the medication. He believed in a more holistic approach. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, and I don’t think there was ever a fight between him and my mother, but they eventually agreed that I should see someone who wasn’t going to make medication the first option.
Luckily, my father found a counselor who was exactly what I needed. He helped restore my confidence and taught me healthier ways to cope with life as I understood it at the time.
That experience stayed with me.
So when I began searching for a therapist years later, the first thing on my mind was finding someone who wouldn’t immediately prioritize medication. I wasn’t opposed to taking it if I truly needed it, but I wanted it to be my last resort.
I booked appointments at three different mental health centers near me. My plan was simple: attend the first session at each one and then decide who felt like the best fit.
The earliest appointment I could get was that weekend. The other two were almost a month away because they were fully booked. As it turned out, the first clinic was usually fully booked as well—I had simply gotten lucky because someone had recently canceled.
My first appointment turned out to be an instant connection.
My therapist was about my age, genuinely interested in my life and hobbies, and completely understanding of my concerns about psychotropic medication. After that first conversation, I saw no reason to continue my search.
I had found my therapist.
The first thing we established was that I had anxiety.
That completely confused me.
How could I have anxiety when I didn’t feel scared or nervous?
My symptoms were almost entirely physical: headaches, lightheadedness, nausea, and strange sensations in my abdomen. I didn’t have the symptoms people usually associate with anxiety on social media. No racing heartbeat. No tightness in my chest. No rapid breathing.
Just a body that constantly felt like something was wrong.
Looking back, the confusion wasn’t surprising.
This all started because I had been searching my symptoms on Google.
(If you’re doing that right now, do yourself a favor and stop. Go see a doctor instead.)
It took me quite a while to accept that anxiety could really explain everything I was experiencing. In fact, my therapist told me my experience was almost textbook. It just didn’t look anything like the exaggerated versions of hypochondria that we often see portrayed in movies or online.
The first real step in recovering from health anxiety was accepting that the problem wasn’t hidden somewhere inside my body.
I had already seen several doctors. I had undergone numerous tests. Every specialist had reached the same conclusion. Now I was sitting across from someone who immediately recognized the pattern.
It always went something like this.
I would notice something small—a slight tingling sensation in my arm, a strange feeling in my stomach, or a minor headache.
I would Google it.
Google would suggest something serious.
Then, almost as if my mind wanted to complete the diagnosis, I would begin noticing more and more of the symptoms I had just read about.
The headache would become louder.
The sensations in my stomach would become stronger.
Everything would suddenly feel connected.
One of the first things my therapist taught me was a set of coping techniques: box breathing, the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding exercise, and simple mantras that helped bring my attention back to the present moment.
What surprised me most was how quickly they worked.
Every time I practiced grounding, many of my symptoms began to fade. That became powerful evidence for me. If simply calming my mind could calm my body, maybe my body wasn’t the problem after all.
Feeling grounded was a strange experience.
For the first time since graduating from college, I experienced brief moments where I wasn’t trying to control everything around me.
For those few quiet minutes, I wasn’t worrying about the future.
I wasn’t ashamed of the past.
I simply existed in the present.
And this was only the beginning.