Anxiety and Neuroplasticity

 

Having health anxiety is more than thinking you are sick when you aren’t. It’s a series of thoughts which bombard your brain on a constant basis.

 

I’m trying to retrain my brain these days, and I am hoping my particular neurons are just as plastic as the hip scientist suggests, although sometimes I’m sure mine are made out of titanium. If everyone else has neuroplasticity; I have nuerostatic electricity.

 

But I know to change these thoughts, I have to believe it is possible, and the first step I have taken is acknowledging the process. I’m not sure if that’s right. One of these days I should really do a bit more research. But for now, I know enough to explain to you the idea of neuoplasticity and how it may help.

 

According to neuroplasticity research, “the brain is remarkably adaptive” 1 Basically, it’s an olympic gymnast, doing a triple backflip (is this a thing?) and landing in the splits, as you scream in astonishment and horror. It’s incredibly good at stretching; changing even.

 

It’s why we are taught, in our training as psychologists, that relying on someone’s memory is usually a terrible idea.

 

We think we remember things well, but our brain is constantly rearranging and this makes any memory less than accurate in most cases. Don’t believe me, watch Elizabeth Loftus for five minutes and tell me your mind isn’t blown. 

 

I’m not sure where I got this next thought, but I assumed things like anxiety, depression, and just all over freaking out: do not change.

 

Until recently, I assumed they were less the gymnast and more me trying to do the splits at 35 – without any introductory backflips. I get down far enough to look like I am taking a big step. Yay me. (In case you were wondering, the picture above of the girl doing yoga in the ocean is most definitely not me). 

 

Step 1: Admit the Problem

 

I’m caught somewhere between believing it is possible to change my thought patterns, and simply arresting myself to the fact that I may just be like this for life.

 

You may have read my post, I Have Health Anxiety: It’s OK. I was just coming out of a month long hiatus from writing due to an anxiety spiral.  I currently feel another one beckoning, but I am doing my best to melt the neurons, follow the therapy and walk away from the destructive thoughts this time. First step, either way is admitting the problem, right?

 

Hi, I’m Callie, and I have health anxiety. The thoughts are fast and they can change my positive, life is “A-OK” thinking in less than a second.

 

I’m just an overly excited alarm system – programmed to alert over the smallest movement. One of my therapists once told me my amygdala is hyper. I like thinking about a hyper amygdala. She sounds fun, but also. Terrifying.

 

For example, last week, after I ate lunch and dinner, I felt a tightness, almost a pain, but not quite, in between my ribs. Since I have had an EKG, ECG, stress test, and ultrasound of my heart done due to prior crazies, I know my heart is probably OK. Unless they missed something.

 

This is a common thought for those of us with health anxiety: we trust no-one, particularly those in white coats.  At the same time, we seek out their authority to ease our anxiety, but our anxiety is a jerk and even when we crave reassurance and get it, we still don’t believe it.

 

What’s the point of going to the doctor, then, you may ask?

 

I have no idea. It’s just sort of something I do to feel better for a moment. I know it makes no rational sense.

 

I think this has something to do with being an Enneagram 6, but I am still diving into that one at the moment. One of these days I would love to share about the Enneagram, but as it is month six or seven of exploration and I am still unsure if I am ACTUALLY a 6, I am going to hold off. Give your computer a little Google if you’re curious though, because it is fascinating. I want to take you there, just not yet.

 

A Dysfunctional Relationship

 

The Rational Side (let’s call her R.S.) of my brain is constantly trying to talk the Idiot Irrational Side (I.I.S) out of doing something stupid. I really feel for R.S.

 

We’ve all had to move away from destructive relationships in the past. My brain – R.S. in particular, does not have this luxury.  Maybe you have the same dysfunctional situation going on?

 

R.S. cannot just walk away from I.I.S. when she gets a stupid thought and spirals. R.S. can see the whole ship about ready to go down in flames, but there’s nowhere for her to go, so she has to suffer a slow death, time and time again.

 

Let’s get back to last week’s symptom (I already have a new one since then, but I am not going to completely rewrite this already too long of a draft): pain in my chest after eating.

 

Next (and Finally, because this is really getting too long), let’s take a peek into a typical conversation between R.S. (Rational Side) and I.I.S. (Idiot Irrational Side):

 

(Setting) Physiological Feeling: pain between ribcage on left side

 

I.I.S. : Oh shit. What could this mean?

 

R.S. : Calm down. It’s probably nothing.

 

I.I.S. : I want to believe you, but what could explain it? I’m definitely feeling something. It feels wrong.

 

R.S. : It’s probably just heart burn from the bread you keep eating. I’ve been telling you to stop eating gluten again. It tears up your stomach – so does dairy. Yet, you keep eating it, and then you smeared butter and honeycomb on it. That’s definitely why we are feeling like this. That and the White Russians.

 

I.I.S. : What if you’re wrong?

 

R.S. : I’m not

 

I.I.S. : You could be. Let me just consider what else this could be.

 

R.S. : Please don’t do that. We are doing so good here, and there is housework to be done, and the girls need to go take a nap. Stop. Just at least wait to fall apart until the girls are asleep.

 

I.I.S. : I’ll feel better if I get some answers right now.

 

R.S. : (sighs)

 

I.I.S. : In this particular part of the body, pain could mean a number of things. It could be a heart attack, but I think I may believe you on this one, since we have had all the tests, that it probably isn’t that.

 

Unless there is a hole somewhere they missed, like the story we were reading the other day about the 33 year old woman who had a stroke because she had an undetected hole in her heart which caused a blood clot to go through her heart and into her brain and then she had a stroke, but didn’t know it because things just seemed off and she couldn’t speak and saw the world sideways. We should be on the lookout for any out of the ordinary vision. What is the pneumonic for warning signs again? FAST? We should Google that.

 

R.S. : We have none of those symptoms. The girl in the story didn’t have pain either.

 

I.I.S. : Oh yeah – you’re right. Ok, so it’s probably not a blood clot, or a hole in the heart. We can always come back to these, though. I don’t want to completely write it off, because if it is a blood clot and I just stop thinking about it, then we won’t be able to keep Callie alive. We need to keep her alive.

 

Ok. So what else? It could be pancreatic cancer. Doesn’t pain get worse after eating with that? And I was worrying we may have that last month. Maybe my worrying made it happen? Where is the pancreas exactly?

 

R.S. : We haven’t lost any weight. There are no symptoms for cancer right now.

 

I.I.S. : That’s what everyone says before the cancer is bad enough and too difficult to treat. We need to explore this now. Let’s Google “pancreatic cancer”

 

R.S. : I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re going to read something that scares you and then this is going to end up like last time.

 

I.I.S. : True. Ok, fine, I won’t Google pancreatic cancer, but I need to know where the pancreas is, because if it is not where the pain is, I think I can calm down a bit. (Google happens)

 

R.S.: See – the pancreas is lower.

 

I.I.S. : Maybe? It’s hard to tell from these drawings, and it could be referred pain. I still think it’s weird that it happens when we eat. It means it has something to do with the stomach.

 

R.S. It’s heartburn

 

I.I.S. : That’s what you want to believe, but it may not be, and if we don’t figure out would it could be, we may kill Callie

 

R.S. : You’re killing her right now

 

I.I.S. : Yeah, I know. But I can’t stop. Let’s keep considering possibilities. Maybe it’s an ulcer? Gallbladder? Maybe she has the same thing as her husband and her esophagus is inflamed?

 

R.S. : It’s heartburn

 

I.I.S. : I want to believe you, but I can’t.

 

R.S. : You’re an idiot

 

I.I.S. : I know. But I have to protect her.

 

R.S. : What if we just assume it is heartburn for now, and if it keeps up, then you can think about it a little more?

 

I.I.S. : Yeah ok. I think I can do that.

 

INsane in the Membrane

 

And this, my friends, is the insanity of my brain. The ONLY thing that helps talk me off the ledge is leaning into the rational. It’s like I tell the irrational side, the same thing I tell my daughter when she is begging for chocolate ice-cream: “we’ll talk about it later.”

 

Sometimes this works and sometimes my irrational screams “we’ll talk about it NOW!”

 

Other times, comparing the times I was right about a symptom to the times I was wrong can offer a compelling enough statistic. (I think about .0001% of my self-diagnosing attempts have been accurate).

 

So, COME ON neurons: time for some amenorrheal gymnastics!  Let’s retrain those brains, friends!  One neuron at a time.

 

 

 

References:

 

1. Månsson, K. N., Salami, A., Frick, A., Carlbring, P., Andersson, G., Furmark, T., & Boraxbekk, C. (2016, February). Neuroplasticity in response to cognitive behavior therapy for social anxiety disorder. Retrieved September 19, 2018, from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4872422/