“You’re Fine.” :: The exhausting journey of high-functioning Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Have you ever wanted to punch a doctor in the throat?

“Everything came back normal,” the doctor always said, “You’re fine.”
“Well, Doc. I didn’t come in because I feel fine,” I always thought.

Twenty-two years of that and I had honestly given up on health care. I hated doctors.

Twenty-two years of visits to specialists. Blood tests, urine samples, sleep tests, finger pricks, poking and prodding; always just to come back and tell me that I’m fine.