Like so many folks out there, I too struggle with anxiety and to a lesser degree depression. My specific affliction manifests as an intense fear of having some incurable illness or organ failure that will take away my physical or mental abilities. I guess you could say I'm a hypochondriac.
Although I know that my mind is responsible for most of my "symptoms", I so often feel that the doctors just haven't "found it", like some insidious genetic defect or tumor is just waiting to strike me down. When I'm in the middle of one of these "hypochondria storms" as I call them, I invariably end up spending way too much money on doctor visits and scans. And activities that were once important to me, like gardening and/ or writing music, seem uninteresting as I become increasingly consumed with the endless loops of fear.
Thankfully, I have the ability to laugh about my problem. I do recognize how cartoonishly funny it is. There are many forms of hypochondria, from being obsessed with germs and handwashing to have very specific neuroses like mine. And most of us have known people like this at some point. It's perfectly natural and healthy to laugh and poke fun at ourselves and other's idiosyncrasies and quirks while keeping in mind that we all struggle with something. It is narcissistic to think that we are the only ones who suffer. We may not see it on Facebook, but all of us have irrational fears and deep-rooted trauma.
I must also disclose that I feel so much better since I started taking Cymbalta, a serotonin–norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor. It has dialed back my anxiety from about an 8 to a 5. I've tried related drugs in the past but nothing has helped me as much as it has. So I don't want people to think that I've overcome anything. I struggle daily with a fragile sense of purpose and maintaining a healthy outlook.
That being said, I want to make it clear, that my suffering, though debilitating, has helped shape the person I am today. I know it sounds cliche, but when I look back on those dark periods throughout my life, which I don't do very often because I don't enjoy looking back, I recognize that so many of the "good memories" come after periods of intense darkness. Just like abstaining from caffeine for a few days enhances its effect when you drink that next espresso, so too does the experience of joy and gratitude amplify and heighten after periods of darkness. As someone once said, and I paraphrase, "to get rainbows, we must experience the rain". Without suffering and struggle we can't fully appreciate the goodness and beauty of this Earth. Recognizing and internalizing this dichotomy has been one of the most transformative epiphanies of my life so far!
Of course, there must be a balance. If we only experience pain and suffering, we won't be able to appreciate anything, nor give ourselves to others. Yet so much of our perception of life is grounded in our mindset and our openness to the world around us.
No one embodies this way of living more than my recently deceased friend Roy Barbee. Though he struggled with dizziness, incontinence, only 10% heart function, and countless other maladies, he was somehow able to find humor and joy in life until his very last days. I'm not saying he didn't have bad days, because I saw them, but overall, he adapted remarkably well to the various stages of his decline, and he was able to "lighten" and "brighten" all those around him. He complained about his condition, but always in a lighthearted and funny way.
Roy was "happier" and more at peace than almost all my "healthy" friends. Yet how did he continue to extract beauty and comedy from being in such a state of decline and pain? How does one not succumb to the crippling fear of death and suffering? Maybe it was because his favorite book was Ecclesiastes, which imparts essentially that "everything is meaningless". All I know is that I can only hope that whatever happens to me, I am able to maintain a loving and funny disposition even when faced with real tangible illness or... Roy taught me so much, but this is perhaps his greatest lesson. He also found my hypochondria comedic, and I relished the opportunity to make him laugh, because he sure made me laugh!
We will all experience decline and suffering in our lives, no matter what. So we must find ways to come to terms this unavoidable aspect of the human condition. We should also take comfort in knowing that our lives will be enriched through the experience of loss and pain. Other cultures and religions, particularly those of the far East, stress this aspect a lot more than my Christian upbringing. But you don't have to embrace religion to arrive at this understanding. When we recognize and accept this mysterious and paradoxical truth, I believe, we can live with fear and anxiety and not allow it to so cripple us. They key isn't to avoid it, but to learn how to embrace it as a valuable part of life. It offers us an opportunity that can't be replicated any other way.
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