I would like to preface this post by saying my physical health is fine. I just wanted to share a look into the mind of someone with general anxiety disorder.

Anxiety can be an interesting thing. It can cripple you and make you question yourself. It can make you question others. And it also forces you to make choices in the case of this incident.

I had been experiencing some pain. The thought of calling the doctor made me feel nervous. I don’t like calling places. I don’t like the idea of being dramatic because of some pain. I also don’t like the idea of letting something go until it intensifies when I could’ve done something about it. If you can’t tell already I overanalyze everything.

I called. I went. I got tests done. I felt at peace. The peace of knowing I conquered one step and I did my part to be proactive about my health.

Waiting for results is never fun but I felt good that I took the step and went. After I went I began questioning myself. Was I being stupid for going? Am I being dramatic? Will people think that I think I have ovarian cancer just because my mom does? I’m not sure who I thought these people were considering the only people that knew about this were my immediate family and they all encouraged me to go. Eventually I chilled out.

A week went by and the office called. I had a small cyst and we were going to make sure it went away on its own and do a follow up in 3 months. I felt good, I felt calm. Then I decided to read my ultrasound report…I am an investigator by nature and that report contained a lot of language that I had to look up. And even when I looked it up it wasn’t EXACTLY the language the report used so it wasn’t much help. Also there was a nodule…no one mentioned a nodule. Basically I began to drive myself crazy.

My mom suggested I call the office to get a better understanding from the doctor. Sure great I’ll call…minus one little thing…I didn’t want to call. She’s a doctor and I’m sure she’s busy and I’m sure I’m just being silly. But I wasn’t sure that I was being silly. So I had a choice. I had to weigh the anxiety. Was the idea of calling worse than googling cysts and nodules for the next 3 month?

So I called and I rambled and she told me more about my cyst and that it didn’t look concerning. And that we will look at it again in 2-3 months and go from there. And I felt better. I felt slightly annoying for bothering her. But I only have one life and I don’t want anxiety stand in my way of getting all the information I need to feel confident moving forward.