“I Am Worried About You.”

Those words, spoken by my doctor on Monday, February 12th, around 8:30 a.m., shook me to my core.

Have you ever felt that something strange was happening inside your body, yet you couldn’t quite explain it? A quiet unraveling. Loss of appetite. Sleepless nights. A heavy chest. An aching heart. A body weighed down by exhaustion. A mind tangled in endless thoughts—confused, restless, overwhelmed. Moments when you feel like crying, screaming, or completely shutting down.

You don’t know who to talk to. You wonder if anyone would truly understand. Meanwhile, life doesn’t pause. Family responsibilities remain. Work demands your attention. Everything is affected, yet you keep going, hoping it will simply disappear.

But it doesn’t.

It stays—consuming your thoughts, replaying the past, questioning your choices. What went wrong? Was it my fault? How do I fix this? The mental chatter never stops.

This was my reality for months.

When the Body Starts Speaking

For a long time, I sensed something wasn’t right. I noticed it—but ignored it. Until my body demanded attention.

By January 2018, things worsened. I began losing my appetite. Even a third of my usual meal made me feel uncomfortably full. Food lost its taste; eating became mechanical. My chest felt heavy, as if weights were pressing down on it. At times, I felt sharp pains in my heart—enough to make me fear I was having a heart attack. Other times, it felt like my heart was sinking.

My mind refused to focus. Meditation, once my anchor, became impossible. Tears would flow without warning. Inside, there was chaos—a constant tug-of-war. I felt like screaming at my own thoughts, begging them to stop.

It was exhausting. Draining. I didn’t know how to handle it anymore.

And yet, outwardly, I remained composed. Thanks to my mindfulness and wellness journey, I didn’t let it spill into my work or family life. I didn’t lash out. No one knew what I was carrying.

It was a tornado inside—and calm on the surface.

The Doctor’s Concern

On February 12th, I finally went to see my doctor. I consider myself a healthy person and usually go once a year for routine checkups. This, however, was my third visit in four months.

After reviewing my vitals, the doctor looked at me and said:

“Vanita, your blood pressure and pulse rate are low. You’ve lost eight pounds in the last four months—four pounds in just this month.”

I was stunned.

I hadn’t changed my diet. I wasn’t trying to lose weight.

She asked if I was experiencing stress, anxiety, or depression. I said no—though deep down, I knew that wasn’t entirely true.

“I’m worried about you,” she said, ordering multiple tests and an immediate EKG. Before I left, she asked me to monitor my blood pressure, pulse, and weight regularly.

In my 23 years in the U.S., I had never undergone so many tests—blood work, radiology, endoscopy, colonoscopy, stress tests, EKGs—just to understand what was happening inside my body.

As I returned home, her words echoed in my mind: “I am worried about you.”

And for the first time, I truly listened.

Turning Inward

I began asking myself the hard questions.

What’s really bothering me? What am I avoiding? What needs to be addressed?

Deep down, I already knew the answer.

A voice inside me grew louder: You know what this is. Acknowledge it. Talk it out. Don’t bury it.

I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

As humans, we are conditioned to suppress emotions. From childhood, many of us are told, “Don’t cry,” or “There’s nothing to be sad about.” We’re taught to avoid discomfort at all costs.

So we numb ourselves—through busyness, food restriction, bingeing, alcohol, distractions, or other unhealthy coping mechanisms. Over time, this emotional suppression leads us straight toward stress, anxiety, and depression.

Society has made emotional expression feel like weakness. We’ve become emotionally awkward, uncomfortable with vulnerability. We bottle everything up, as if feeling deeply is wrong.

But emotions are not flaws—they are messengers.

Suppressing them doesn’t make them disappear. It makes them louder, heavier, and eventually, physical.

Choosing to Lean In

I’ve learned that it’s far healthier to lean into pain rather than numb it. When we deny ourselves emotional expression, we harm not just our minds and souls—but our bodies too.

I knew my suppressed emotions were creating havoc within me.

So I did what I had been avoiding.

I reached out.

I spoke to two close friends—people I trusted deeply. As I shared my story, the tears flowed freely. The weight inside me began to lift. They reminded me of what I already knew: to trust my instincts and choose my well-being, even if the choice was difficult.

And something incredible happened.

Within four days, my appetite returned. The pain vanished. The heaviness in my chest disappeared. I felt free—like a soul released from long-held chains.

Within ten days, I gained weight. I could taste food again. I enjoyed my meals—my paranthas especially! My blood pressure and pulse normalized.

No medication. Just emotional honesty.

Healing Beyond Medicine

At my follow-up appointment on March 12th, my doctor smiled as she reviewed my reports.

“Everything looks perfect,” she said. “Your vitals are great, and you’ve gained the weight back. What did you do?”

What I did was choose myself.

So many of us run endlessly, believing we are adding value to our families, work, and goals—while neglecting our emotional health. Being “busy” becomes a badge of honor, even at the cost of our well-being.

Why is it so hard to make time for ourselves?
Why is self-care labeled selfish?
Why is emotional expression discouraged?

These are products of conditioning.

But here’s the truth:
If we are not well, happy, and whole within ourselves, what can we truly offer to others?

Our emotions are signals, guiding us toward what needs attention. Mindfulness helps us hear those signals before our bodies are forced to scream.

A Choice We All Must Make

Do you want to live—or suffer?

The choice is always yours.

Awareness saved me from sinking deeper. But awareness alone isn’t enough. We must act on it.

If you’ve numbed your emotions, know this: you are not alone. Millions of us do it. But together, we can choose differently. We can speak, feel, heal, and support one another.

I see you. I hear you.
And my love and support are with you.

You can do this.

Continued: Part 2 : Choice is always yours!