The Anxiety of Never Knowing How Your Body Will Respond

For a long time, anxiety did not feel like an emotion that simply passed through me. It felt like something that controlled where I could go, what I could do, and how much of my life I could safely participate in.

There were periods when my anxiety was so intense that I could barely go out. I experienced social anxiety, but I was also frightened by the unpredictability of my body. That fear began when I was a child, around the time I first went to the emergency room with stomach pain. I did not know what was happening inside me or how my body might respond.

Eating away from home was especially difficult. So was staying overnight away from home. Leaving the house meant not knowing whether symptoms would appear or whether I would be able to manage what happened. But that uncertainty did not mean I stayed home or stopped living. I traveled, lived abroad, and continued doing things that mattered to me. The uncertainty came with me, affecting how much I planned, how closely I monitored my body, and whether I needed a way to leave or recover afterward. By the time I was eventually diagnosed with Crohn's disease, it had affected much of my life without becoming the whole of it. Travel carried the same uncertainty on a much larger scale.

The question was always there: What if my body does something I cannot control?

When uncertainty becomes part of everyday life

I first went to the emergency room with stomach pain when I was 10 years old. It took 21 years before I received my Crohn's diagnosis.

But Crohn's was not the only answer I spent years searching for. I received different diagnoses at different points in my life. Across approximately 40 years, I have repeatedly had to ask why something was happening in my body, whether I would be believed, and what I needed to do next.

That kind of uncertainty changes you.

When your body has surprised you often enough, preparing for the worst can begin to feel responsible. You monitor sensations. You think through possible exits. You consider where the nearest bathroom is. You wonder how much energy something will require and whether you will pay for it afterward.

Some of that preparation is practical. It can help us participate in life more safely. But it can also become exhausting when the mind never receives the message that it can stand down.

I thought I needed the feelings to disappear

For years, I used a great deal of energy trying not to feel what I felt.

I wanted the anxiety to stop. I wanted the physical sensations to disappear. I wanted my body to behave so I could finally feel safe enough to live normally.

But the harder I fought certain feelings, the more space they seemed to take up. My attention became fixed on whether they were still there. I was not only experiencing anxiety; I was frightened of the anxiety itself.

At times, that fear became an intense fear of dying. I genuinely thought I was going to die, and I could not sleep because I was so afraid of what might happen.

Over time, I began working differently with my emotions and physical sensations. I learned to stay with them, even when it was hard. I stopped treating every feeling as something that had to be removed before I could continue with my life.

Most of this work happened through meditation, and partly through mindfulness. I practiced sitting still with what was happening, noticing the emotion or physical sensation, and allowing it to be there. I breathed through it instead of immediately trying to make it disappear.

Breathing deeply through what is happening remains one of the most helpful techniques for me. It does not always remove the feeling or sensation, but it helps me stay present with myself while it moves through.

This did not happen quickly. It was not one technique, one decision, or one moment of suddenly becoming fearless. It was practice.

I learned that I could feel anxiety without immediately obeying it. I could notice a physical sensation without automatically assuming the worst. I could allow an emotion to take up some space without giving it every available room.

When I stopped spending all my energy trying to push feelings away, they often began to need less space.

Being with a sensation is not the same as ignoring it

There is an important distinction here.

Accepting that a sensation is present does not mean dismissing it. Working with your body does not mean assuming every symptom is harmless. Self-trust includes taking action when something is new, severe, changing, or concerning.

I have lived with pain for a long time. Most of the pain I experience does not frighten me in the way it once might have. It still hurts, but I recognize it. I know how it tends to behave, what usually helps, and when I need to change what I am doing.

When my back went out, I used to tense immediately because experience told me that one problem could quickly lead to pain and tension elsewhere—in my neck, pelvis, or another part of my back. Sometimes it felt as though something had shifted or a nerve had become compressed, followed by inflammation and a vicious spiral of more pain. My fear and tension often made that spiral worse.

This still happens, but I no longer become frightened in the same way, so I do not tense my whole body as I once did.

Crohn's adds another layer. I avoid anti-inflammatory pain relievers because they can trigger a Crohn's flare for me. Other pain medication may reduce the pain without addressing the inflammation itself, but that relief can still give my body time to settle. Not having the most obvious medication option available can add its own stress.

If something feels different or experience has taught me that it needs attention, I act on that information. I will always know my body in a way no one else can. That does not mean I do not need medical expertise; it means my knowledge and gut feeling are part of the evidence too. Over the years, there have been countless times when later evidence confirmed what I had felt, even when it did not fit the pattern doctors initially expected. I need to trust what I notice, even when it falls outside the norm.

The change is not that I ignore my body. It is that familiar pain no longer automatically provokes the same emotional storm. I can be with it and care for myself at the same time.

I still experience anxiety

Today, I am okay with feeling all of my emotions.

For me, being open to happiness also means being willing to feel sadness, fear, anger, and grief. Life is not easy, but giving all of my emotions space makes me better equipped to handle what is happening.

That does not mean I enjoy every emotion or that anxiety has disappeared forever. I can still feel anxious. Eating out can still be difficult. Travel still requires planning, flexibility, and knowing how to care for my body when something changes.

The difference is that anxiety does not affect me in the same way.

I have been through hell and come out the other side. I know what intense anxiety feels like, and I know that I can move through it. I am no longer as frightened when it appears because I have evidence that I can stay with myself.

That knowledge has given me more freedom.

I can travel because I know how to prepare, adapt, and respond. I can eat away from home more often because I am better able to handle the uncertainty. I can make choices based on what matters to me, not only on whether anxiety might appear.

My life is not free from symptoms, risk, or difficult emotions. But it is no longer entirely organized around avoiding them.

What self-trust means to me now

For me, body trust is not the belief that my body will always behave predictably.

It is trusting that I will listen.

It is knowing that I can pause and notice what is happening before I react. It is recognizing when I need rest, when I need support, when I need medical care, and when fear is asking me to make my world smaller than it needs to be.

It is also trusting that I do not need to handle everything perfectly.

Sometimes I will misjudge my energy. Sometimes I will understand exactly what my energy is telling me and consciously choose to do something anyway because it matters deeply to me. I may accept the consequences and make space for recovery afterward. The important difference is that I am making a conscious choice, not pushing automatically or pretending there will be no cost.

Sometimes anxiety will take up more space again. Sometimes I will need to cancel, leave early, change the plan, or recover afterward.

That does not erase what I have learned.

You do not have to wait for every feeling to disappear

If anxiety has made your life smaller, I am not going to tell you to simply push through it. I know how overwhelming it can become, and support from a qualified mental health professional can be important when anxiety is interfering with everyday life.

But I also want you to know that the presence of anxiety does not mean you have failed.

You may not need to defeat every emotion before you begin reconnecting with life. The first step may be learning that a feeling can be present and that you can remain present too.

You can listen to your body without treating every sensation as an enemy. You can take symptoms seriously without allowing fear to make every decision. You can create plans that support you without believing that life must wait until nothing feels uncertain.

The feeling may still need some space. It may simply stop needing all of it.

Gentle Reflection

• Notice what happens when you try to push a difficult feeling away.

• Remember what helps you remain present without feeling consumed by it.

• What would trusting yourself to respond look like, even if you cannot predict exactly what your body will do?

Reader Note

This article shares personal experience and general reflection. It is not a substitute for medical or mental health care. New, severe, or changing physical symptoms deserve appropriate medical attention. If anxiety is affecting your daily life, consider speaking with a qualified health professional.

Background Sources Used for Fact-Checking

National Institute of Mental Health: Anxiety Disorders

National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health: Meditation and Mindfulness