Recently, Josh wrote a post about self-diagnosis. I started to comment on it but soon realized that writing a follow-up post would be a better idea. Because just a couple of weeks ago I had lung cancer. Through self-diagnosis. That was fun…

This anxiety thing is a rollercoaster ride. You go up, you go down. I’ve been going up and down for the past few months (a year, actually) but to me that is progress because it used to be all downhill. And a couple of weeks ago I went down… apparently with lung cancer (and later, stomach cancer)… or anxiety.

I always seem to end up in “The Pit of Self Diagnosis”, though. I am very scared of falling ill with some fatal disease and I am definitely a hypochondriac. So when my anxiety sets in, I start selling myself this story, see?

I tell myself: “Come on! You’re rational enough, and besides, lately the anxiety has been better and you really, really, REALLY, are having authentic symptoms this time and you’ll be able to not go with the cancer thing and… It will make you feel better to see it’s just the flu or the common cold…“

And there I am. Googling again. And a few seconds later I’ve got cancer. Or a brain tumor. Or anything that is fatal – the faster it kills, the more likely I am to have it. Yay! The fun never stops if you ride the anxiety rollercoaster!

Of course I realized, after a few days, that I probably didn’t have lung cancer or other terminal diseases. Even though I had been messing with cigarettes again for a couple of months (which, initially triggered “the cough”, which triggered “the mucus”, which triggered the “lung cancer”).

So, I think I need to stop listening to “the story”. I have to stop believing my own BS and realize that it is anxiety – and if it is not (and I really have some awful disease) there probably isn’t much I can do about it anyway… and I should probably just see a doctor.