Is It Anxiety, or Is My Body Trying to Tell Me Something?

Learning to listen without jumping to the worst-case scenario.

By Dr. Erin Kinney

If you've been a patient of mine for a while, this might surprise you...

I have always been a bit of a hypochondriac.

Seriously.

If I get a headache, my mind can jump straight to, "What if it's a brain tumor?" If I feel unusually tired, I start wondering if I'm coming down with something serious. If I have brain fog for a few days, I can convince myself it's Lyme disease, MS, or even early dementia.

I know what it's like to have anxiety take a tiny symptom and turn it into a terrifying story.

The irony isn't lost on me. I spend my days helping patients understand their symptoms, and I know better than most what deserves urgent attention and what doesn't. But anxiety doesn't always listen to logic. It has a remarkable ability to convince us that the worst-case scenario is the most likely one.

The older I've gotten, the more I've realized that anxiety isn't actually the problem. Like all of our emotions, it has an important job. I loved the way Inside Out 2 portrayed this. Anxiety is trying to protect us. The trouble comes when anxiety grabs the steering wheel and refuses to let anyone else drive. When that happens, there isn't much room left for joy, curiosity, or peace. Every sensation in our body starts to feel like something to fear.

Over the past few years, one of the biggest shifts I've made has come through working with my somatic life coach. She helped me begin looking at my symptoms through an entirely different lens. Instead of seeing them as evidence that something terrible was happening, I started asking myself, "What if this is simply my body trying to communicate with me?"

That one question has changed everything.

Now, when I get a headache, my first thought isn't, "What's wrong with me?" Instead, I get curious. Have I had enough water today? Have I been staring at my computer for too long? Have I spent any time outside? More often than not, my headache is simply my body's way of asking for something basic that I've neglected.

The same is true for brain fog. Years ago, I would have spiraled into worrying about a neurological disease. Today, I know it usually shows up after I've been overworking, skipping breaks, or pouring into everyone else without refilling my own tank.

That's not to say we should ignore symptoms. There are absolutely symptoms that deserve medical attention, and there are times when testing is exactly the right next step. But I think we've lost some of our ability to listen to the quieter messages our bodies send us every single day.

Our bodies are constantly giving us feedback. They tell us when we've slept well, when we're dehydrated, when we've pushed too hard, eaten too little, or been under too much stress. Those sensations aren't punishments. They're information.

Before heading down the Google rabbit hole or convincing yourself that something catastrophic is happening, pause and check in with yourself. Have you had enough water? Have you eaten enough today? Have you been sleeping well? Have you been working nonstop? Have you moved your body or spent time outside? Sometimes the answer really is that simple.

And if you've done those things and your symptoms continue, worsen, or simply don't sit right with you, that's when it's time to reach out to your provider. Sometimes our bodies need more than rest or hydration, and that's exactly why we're here. We can help determine when a symptom is simply feedback and when it's something that deserves a deeper look.

We treat a lot of patients with health anxiety, and I know how exhausting it can be. One of the best ways to quiet an anxious nervous system is to take exceptional care of the basics. Keep your blood sugar balanced by eating regular meals. Stay hydrated. Limit alcohol if you notice it makes your anxiety worse. Get more rest than you think you need. If you've followed my work on cortisol, you know that when we become burned out and cortisol levels decline, the body often compensates by producing more adrenaline. Too much adrenaline can leave you feeling wired, restless, and anxious, even when there's no real danger.

And finally, don't try to do it all alone. Therapy, somatic work, coaching, and supportive relationships can make a profound difference. When your nervous system knows that someone else has your back, it becomes much easier for it to let its guard down.

Here's what I hope you take away from all of this:

Your body is not trying to betray you. It's trying to protect you.

Every symptom is an opportunity to pause, get curious, and ask, "What might my body need from me right now?"

Sometimes the answer is a glass of water, a nourishing meal, a walk outside, or an earlier bedtime. Sometimes it's a conversation with your healthcare provider. And sometimes it's simply reminding yourself that not every symptom is a crisis.

Your body has been working for you every second of every day since the day you were born. The more you learn to listen to it with curiosity instead of fear, the more likely you are to find what it's been asking for all along.

That's where healing begins.