Before my mother died, I didn’t know my hypochondria was making me ill | Elle Warren

I continually Googled my symptoms, real or imagined. Then tragedy, and an OCD diagnosis, set me on the path to understanding why

When I got my first period aged 11, but not again for 18 months, I worried I might be the next Virgin Mary, pregnant by mystical means. I’d sit at my family computer and Google: “Ways to get pregnant without sex”, “Why am I not having my period?”, “No period after first period”. I’d spend an hour clicking through articles and Reddit threads until I read “no, you’re not pregnant” and “yes, this is normal” enough times. But after days, weeks, or sometimes a glorious month or two, the comfort wore off and doubt would seep back in, until finally I would start my search again.

Though my period eventually returned, my inability to cope with the inherent uncertainty of the human experience remained, and I kept turning to Google for reassurance. When I was 17, I sat on the sofa doing homework while my parents went out with friends. In the quiet of the house, with nothing to focus on besides a dull textbook and my own internal workings, I noticed my chest felt tight. I had a smartphone by then, which meant I could search Google anytime, anywhere. I looked up “chest pain”, and it quickly became evident I had no choice but to call my parents and go to the hospital (after the doctors monitored my heart and took a couple of X-rays, they told me that I probably had acid reflux).

Elle Warren is a writer covering queerness and mental health

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