A Gift for Mom! 🤍

After nearly losing my life delivering my second daughter, I suffer from health anxiety. I am much better today, better than I have ever been, but getting to this point has not been easy.

What exactly is health anxiety? It is when you think every little thing that ails you is going to kill you. You may know this as hypochondria. You may be a hypochondriac yourself.

In the age of Google, the number of those suffering from health anxiety continues to rise. That’s the flip-side to having information at your fingertips.

A pimple is deadly skin cancer.

A bump is the dreaded C.

A bug bite is the West Nile virus. 

Thanks, Google! I was never a hypochondriac before I almost died. I was the person who rode every ride at the theme park without thinking twice about it.

Then I almost died . . . and suddenly I felt what didn’t kill me the first time would catch me on any given day.  

When you’ve stared death in the face, it changes you.

Sure, it made me appreciate every moment. I tell my family I love them every chance I get. I hug them more, and I try to laugh with them as much as possible.

RELATED: Mothering With Anxiety One Hard-Fought Moment at a Time

Since nearly dying, I’ve become less stressed about certain life situations.

That guy who cut me off this morning . . . I let it roll off my back.

The mom who acts ridiculous at the PTA meeting . . . whatever.

My health anxiety sneaks in when I start to feel sick, get a migraine, or basically just feel out of sorts. 

Common cold? No, it must be something else. I imagine my lungs black as night as I cough.

Heartburn turns into a possible heart attack.

A bruise means my muscles are failing me.

I have spent hours on Google trying to self-diagnose. It is an endless dark rabbit hole. I would convince myself I had X only to read something else, and no, it must be that instead.

When I was in the worst spiral of healthy anxiety, it affected my relationships. It was a time stealer.

It stole my time from the things I wanted to accomplish. 

It prevented me from working on my book. It prevented me from watching my favorite television show. It stole time from my husband because I was too caught up on my phone reading about what I most likely did not have.

One more search, I would tell myself. It turned into hours wasted. I would get upset with myself only to begin the vicious cycle again anytime I felt under the weather. 

RELATED: Through the Doubt of Anxiety, God is Faithful

Some people who suffer from health anxiety go to the emergency room or the doctor’s office every time they feel anything off. They will go from doctor to doctor, believing none of them are being truthful or they don’t know what they are doing. 

My health anxiety attacks did not cause me to do that. Mine was much more focused on the internet and spending hours reading and researching diseases. There are varying forms of health anxiety, and we each suffer from it in our own way.

My health anxiety clouded my mind and overtook my heart with worry. 

Some would say this is the devil’s work. He wants you miserable so he can steal your joy. It feeds his ego. I read that on a Catholic self-help site.

I also read that if you suffer from health anxiety, your best friend is cognitive behavioral therapy, and I believe that 100%. 

In 2017, I was at the peak of my health anxiety. I had just nearly died at the end of 2016, and I had so many questions.

I was struggling to understand why I survived while at the same time worrying if my body was genuinely healing itself properly.

I re-played images in my mind of all the blood that left my body as I was hemorrhaging. I convinced myself that somehow the blood transfusion infected me with something else. I went to dark places in my mind where I saw myself losing blood as I slept, never waking up.

At the end of 2017, I had decided enough was enough. I felt I had missed out on so much with my second daughter. Instead of playing with her, I was searching the internet. I would search for the lasting effects of blood loss or the dangers of a blood transfusion as she played by herself on the playmat.

I knew something had to change.

I spoke to a pastor. I told him what I was feeling. I purposely went to this pastor because he was not the judging kind. He would not tell me, “Put it all on Jesus and have a nice day.” 

RELATED: God Actually Does Give Us More Than We Can Handle

No, he spoke to me, not at me. He actively listened. He did not pretend to have all the answers. He prayed with me. He did not say, “Lord, heal this woman.” He said, “God, help bring Aliette peace and clarity.” That slight difference is everything.

I had to put in the work myself if I wanted to change, but God would be my biggest cheerleader. 

I started small. If I found myself with the need to search for whatever disease I might have, I gave myself a limit.

I would tell myself, “I will search this for twenty minutes max.” Then I would put the phone down and walk away. I often needed to shut my phone completely off.

I would place limits on daily searches. Instead of searching every day, I would tell myself on a Monday I would not search again until Thursday. Usually, in that three-day window, whatever I was feeling was gone, and the need to search Google went with it.

I prayed and asked for clarity and a peaceful heart.

If I failed and went on a searching binge, I started all over again by limiting myself on how much time I dedicated to it. It was a daily painful exercise in mental strength.

I went through various cycles of success and failure, finally beating it in 2019. By then, I had stopped searching Google entirely for whatever I thought may kill me.

If I felt sick, I simply called my doctor and booked an appointment. If I felt the urge to get on Google, I would find something else to do, and I would turn my phone off. 

I am proud to say I overcame my health anxiety.

I beat the need to Google every symptom. I stopped believing that something was out to get me and take me away from everything I loved.

I moved on to focusing on what I could do with the time I had. I picked up my writing again, and I focused on my family and friends. I made new goals and laid out plans to achieve them.

This is what helped me, but it was a slow process. It took nearly two years to overcome my hypochondria fully, and it is still a daily struggle sometimes to stay off the internet. Yet, I have done it and you can, too. 

RELATED: Maybe We’re Living in the Age of Anxiety

If you suffer from health anxiety, my solutions may help you, or they may not. You may need additional help from a psychologist, medication, or a combination of these things. We each have our own path to achieve optimal mental health. 

Do not be ashamed if you suffer from health anxiety.

Google has made it easy to become a hypochondriac. Talk to people and let them know what you are feeling. You will be surprised at how many people suffer from health anxiety silently. It is believed that 1 in 4 people suffer from this condition, but very few seek treatment. Do not let that be you. 

Whatever you need to help defeat your health anxiety, do it. You are a gift to this world. Your time with your loved ones is everything. You deserve to live a life where you do not allow your hypochondria and endless internet searches to steal your joy and time. Your life experience is more valuable than a Google search.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Aliette Silva

Aliette Silva is a mom and a writer that lives for a good Cuban sandwich. Her work has been featured in Today Parents, Her View from Home, Filter Free Parents, and Scary Mommy. She writes posts, shares stories, and snaps pictures of the daily mama grind. When she is not writing, you can find her chasing sleep or her two girls all over Disney World.

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman standing over water

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise.  From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

In: Living
Old black and white family photo

Grandmother, I never met you this side of Heaven, but I feel as though I have. Your pictures, scattered throughout my mother’s home, tell your story. Born to a woman who came to this country alone when she was just 16, you would be the youngest of four, with two sisters and a brother. Your short, dark, straight hair clings to your little face, a line of bangs neatly combed high on your forehead. You couldn’t be more than three years old as you sit on a stool at your sister’s First Holy Communion. The black and white photo makes...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading

My Dad Gave Us Something Money Never Could

In: Living
Family smiling in posed photo

I was talking with my dad the other day about an upcoming Disney trip with our kids. I told him all we planned to do while we were there and how excited the kids were. He sat and listened, taking it all in. And then he said something that put a lump in my throat. “I’m so glad you’re able to give your kids the life that I couldn’t.” He went on to say he still carries some guilt–that he wishes he could have done more, taken us on trips, given us experiences he couldn’t. Hearing that broke my heart....

Keep Reading

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

In: Living, Marriage
father with two young children

The side of my husband who is hardest on himself usually shows up late at night. The house is quiet, the kids are finally asleep, and the day has done what it always does—taken everything it could from both of us. That’s usually when it comes out. The voice in his head that tells him he’s not doing enough as a father. Not present enough. Not patient enough. Not good enough. He doesn’t say it lightly. He says it like someone confessing a truth he wishes wasn’t true. Like he’s already measured himself against some invisible standard of fatherhood and...

Keep Reading

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

In: Living
Little girl looking through fingers

The roles. The expectations. The unspoken, undefined rules. The hurt feelings no one wants to talk about. It could be a scene from an old Abbott and Costello routine: “Who’s on first?” Motherhood is rarely clear-cut. And if you’ve ever tried to navigate life alongside a stepmother—or as one—you know how quickly things can become complicated. Add a stepmother to the mix, and suddenly it’s a relay race where no one’s quite sure who’s holding the baton, or if anyone wants it. This isn’t a story about winners and losers or choosing sides. It isn’t about who is right or...

Keep Reading

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

In: Living
Girl holding popsicle

The year is 2026: we’re inviting thousands of strangers to get ready with us, threatening our own deaths on a lot of different hills and, if you’re a millennial mom, determined to have a ’90s summer. Some top to-dos on the ’90s mom summer checklist? Lots of outside play, limited screens, less hustle, more simplicity. Overall, evoking the “carefree” summers of the 1990s. But did anyone ever ask the real ‘90s moms if summers back then were all we’re cracking them up to be? If my own memory serves me right, my parents talked a whole lot about summers in...

Keep Reading

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

In: Living, Marriage
Woman looking off to the fog

He promised you a lifetime, a family, safety, and security. You carried life and brought it into this world for him. Even still, in the trenches of postpartum, he betrayed you. It was never your fault. This is something I’ve fought to tell myself every single day since the day I discovered my marriage was never meant to last. Because the truth is, betrayal is never about you; it’s about them, and the character flaws deep within they’d rather bury than face. He watched as you fought for your life after delivery while your tiny, premature newborn spent the first...

Keep Reading

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living
birthday balloons

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading