I’m hoping someone on here has been through something similar because I honestly don’t know how to carry on living like this.
I’ve always been an anxious person, but it became so much worse after my youngest son developed meningitis when he was just four weeks old. We spent nearly two weeks in hospital while he had IV antibiotics. Those days were the most terrifying of my life and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been the same since.
Ever since then, it feels like my brain is permanently scanning for the next medical disaster.
Recently I found a lump in my breast. My GP referred me urgently to the breast clinic and I had the whole triple assessment. They did an ultrasound and then decided to take four biopsy samples. I’m still waiting for the results. The thing is, that’s a genuine medical concern. I know that. But my brain doesn’t cope with uncertainty at all. From the moment I found the lump I was planning my own funeral, imagining my children growing up without me, worrying about whether I’d need chemotherapy or a double mastectomy. I couldn’t think about anything else.
Then, before I’ve even got those biopsy results back, my daughter has had a swollen lymph node in her neck since April that I'm now convinced has grown. She’s otherwise completely well, her blood test were reassuring and the paeds consultant who saw her back then wasn't overly concerned, but my brain has immediately gone to lymphoma. I’ve spent days feeling her neck, Googling, comparing photos, reading survival rates and convincing myself she’s seriously ill.
This is the pattern of my life now. As soon as one health worry appears, I become completely consumed by it. If that one settles, my brain immediately latches onto something else. I don’t seem to get a period where I’m just… normal.
I’m constantly checking myself or my children. Every ache, pain, lump, rash or swollen gland becomes something sinister. I spend hours Googling. I ask for reassurance, feel better for an hour, then start doubting it again.
The worst part is what it’s stealing from me.
Instead of enjoying my children, I’m analysing them. Instead of looking forward to holidays, birthdays or family days out, I’m terrified one of us won’t be here for the next one. I feel guilty if I’m happy because I almost expect something awful to happen afterwards. It’s affecting my marriage because I’m permanently on edge. I’m exhausted all the time because my brain never switches off. I don’t even remember what it feels like to wake up without immediately wondering what’s wrong with someone.
I’ve had CBT before (didn't help) and I’m on sertraline, but I don’t feel like I’m actually getting better. Has anyone been this bad and genuinely recovered? Not just “I worry a bit”, but the kind where your whole life revolves around the next possible diagnosis?
What actually helped? Different therapy? Different medication? How did you stop Googling and checking? Most importantly, how did you stop passing your anxiety onto your children?
I don’t want them to grow up remembering a mum who was always frightened that somebody was dying.
I’d really appreciate hearing from anyone who’s come out the other side because right now it feels completely hopeless.