And so it goes on

You could literally drive yourself insane worrying about things and worry can manifest itself in so many different ways, even physical pain. It can cause headaches, stomach aches and even diarrhoea - each adding to the stressfulness of the situation. I think the worst thing to be worried about is health. At least when worrying about other things (relationships, exams, etc.) you can console yourself with the fact that no matter how bad it gets, it's not actually going to kill you, you're not actually going to die. Dying, of course, when worrying about health, actually tends to be the frightening source of concern.

I'm delaying going to bed now. The average person takes seven minutes to get to sleep. That is most certainly not true of me, and I know it will take even longer tonight. Why is it that worries seem so much more significant and life-threatening when you're laying there in the dark?

I look forward to going home. I will be there in five nights. There I will be able to lie in bed beside my boyfriend and voice every worry the instant it appears in my fraught mind, and he will hopefully extinguish each one with words of reassurance. But that means five more long sleepless nights alone. And four more days in fact, since I am living alone at the moment. In truthfulness, I cannot wait to get home, see my parents and tell them my ridiculous worry (that I have developed an abdominal aortic aneurysm) and for them to laugh in my face and say "Don't be silly. I sometimes have that feeling too. It's normal."

What I want most is to wake up tomorrow and never feel a pulse in my stomach again. Do you know what I also think? I wonder if yesterday I happened to feel it more than usual, which led me (unfortunately) to look it up on the internet and find this condition and therefore the pulse, which I always vaguely sensed in the past, has taken on a whole new fatal light, which I will never be able to see past. Thus I will be irrationally worrying about it for the rest of my life - an unbearably bleak thought. And one that I am in fact not willing to tolerate.

I have decided that if I still feel this on Tuesday (when I return to England), I shall make a doctor's appointment, to which I will undoubtedly go along only to be diagnosed with "states of anxiety", such was the outcome of my last visit to an establishment of this sort.

States of anxiety

I suffer from anxiety. I find it very easy to get worked up about insignificant things. I end up in such a panic that I just make the original source of worry worse.

Now I've worked myself into a panic. I think that I may have an aneurysm on my aorta simply because I have been feeling a pulse in my stomach. Not a constant one; very on/off. I typed "stomach pulse" into google to try and find myself some reassurance that nothing was wrong, but instead I stumbled across a minefield of information about abdominal aortic aneurysms, and, despite sources reporting that they are far more common in males over 60, and the fact that I am a female of 21 years, I am now convinced and therefore thoroughly panicked that I am indeed suffering from this condition.

I then decided once again to try and put my mind at rest by further researching the condition, only to discover the word "catastrophe" in the description of one of its outcomes. I am now in a state of, albeit quiet, indescribable panic whereby I can feel my pulse racing, not only in my stomach, but in my neck and chest as well.

Unfortunately it seems that there is no way to relieve oneself of such anxiety without actually visiting a professional and having them state plainly to one's face that "it's perfectly normal and nothing to worry about whatsoever" (preferrably after having undertaken a series of serious looking but painless tests in order to demonstrate that his remark is scientifically founded and therefore reassuringly accurate). However, by going to a professional, one runs the risk of hearing unwanted words; words along the lines of "I'm very sorry, but this is indeed a catastrophe" - words which I'm sure a patient would never heard a doctor say, but which they nonetheless imagine hearing. And it's this fear of bad news, along with the more minor fear of looking like a hypochondriac when I ask them their opinion on the matter only to be scoffed at and told "Everyone has a pulse in their stomach! Don't waste my time"; yes, it's these fears which prevent me from actually stepping foot in a doctor's surgery - well, these fears and the fact that I'm petrified of needles and am convinced that even if I went in complaining of a common cold, they would be hell-bent on injecting me with something; that said, it would be nice to go along and get some peace of mind, because then I would immediately be able to cleanse myself of this state of anxiety - which no doubt is responsible for prolonging my stomach pulsation as it is!

I need to learn meditation.