I've been dealing with anxiety for most of my adult life, mainly health anxiety, and one of the biggest triggers has always been my throat and digestive issues. For years, I've had this awful sensation that something's stuck in my throat — always in the same spot, just to the left of my Adam’s apple. It comes and goes, but when it’s there, it’s hard to think about anything else. It’s exhausting.
Back in 2017, things really escalated. I developed a stomach ulcer, GERD, and a sliding hiatal hernia. At one point I was even inhaling stomach acid. I could barely eat and ended up in hospital for an emergency endoscopy. That’s when they diagnosed me with dysphagia too. Since then, my anxiety shifted more toward my breathing. Eating became terrifying. I tried to push through, but that stuck feeling would return — sometimes even after drinking things like Ensure. A barium swallow in 2020 confirmed oesophageal dysmotility, but since then, I’ve just been left waiting. The NHS hasn’t really followed up.
Things finally started to change in November 2024. My carer — who’s also my best mate since we were kids — encouraged me to try eating solids again. At first, I was terrified. After years of fear, discomfort, and that constant stuck feeling, the idea of chewing and swallowing actual food felt almost impossible. But with his support and reassurance, I gave it a go. I started small — just some beans — and to my surprise, it went down okay. No panic, no choking, no disaster. Just food.
And from there, something amazing happened. I slowly started adding more to my diet — noodles, cheese, mac & cheese, chicken pakora, bits and pieces that felt manageable. Then one day, I had my favourite chippy order again: chips, cheese and chicken gravy. I can’t even describe how happy that made me. It wasn’t just about the taste — it was the feeling of living again. For the first time in years, food didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like freedom.
Everything felt lighter. My outlook on life completely shifted. Suddenly, the idea of being “normal” — just eating a meal without fear — felt possible. And not just possible, but real. It was happening. I could go places, try new things, even start making plans again. My mental health improved massively. I felt calmer, more in control, more hopeful. I was laughing more. I wasn’t dreading every day. I actually looked forward to meals — something I hadn’t done in so long.
I went to bed every night with this warm, excited feeling — not fear, not dread — but actual excitement. I couldn’t wait to wake up, to cook something, to eat something I enjoyed. It was amazing. Just having that back — that connection to food and joy — it felt like I was finally getting my life back.
Even when the stuck sensation crept back in now and then, it didn’t have the same power over me. I could acknowledge it, but keep going. It wasn’t ruling my life anymore. It felt like I had my future back — like I could start dreaming again.
But not last Tuesday — the Tuesday before — everything crashed again. I had my usual chippy order, but from a different place, and that horrible stuck feeling hit me hard. It triggered a full-blown panic attack. My throat felt like it was closing up, and I completely spiraled. I begged my carer to take me to A&E, but he reminded me — honestly, but gently — that they didn’t give a shit last time. They didn’t do anything. They looked down on me like I was wasting their time. And he told me, “This panic attack will pass. You’ve got through it before.” He’s amazing. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him. I know a lot of people deal with this on their own, and i'm extremely grateful i have someone that knows me, that even though he isn't always here, he's an amazing help. I'm thankful every day for that.
Since then, I’ve been hit with panic attacks constantly — sometimes three or four a day. I’ve barely left my bed. I feel completely overwhelmed, stuck in survival mode. On Monday, I rang the doctor in tears, begging for some kind of help, some kind of plan. All he did was tell me to increase my propranolol. That was it. No follow-up, no reassurance. The only thing he did was refer me to gastroentrology, which even at this point I don't feel like I could even travel to the hospital to consult with a consultant, or to even have any procedure. I’m just… so tired. I'm broken, I want to feel normal again. I want to believe I’m safe. I hate these thoughts, I hate living in fear, I hate feeling like this isn’t a life — just barely existing.
Maybe the feelings are worse because I haven't eaten in a while.. Although I'm a bit pudgy and I can afford to lose a bit of weight, this wasn't the way I wanted to do it..
And there’s this other thing happening now that’s really starting to scare me — even when I’m not feeling anxious at all. It’s this weird breathing issue that comes out of nowhere. I can be totally calm, heart rate steady, oxygen levels normal, but suddenly it feels like I just can’t breathe properly. Like every breath takes effort, like I have to think about it instead of it just happening naturally.
It often hits after I drink something — even water — or when I’m around strong smells, like aftershave, cooking, vape smoke, or even air fresheners. It doesn’t cause immediate panic, but it’s uncomfortable enough that I start spiraling after a while. I keep checking my pulse, checking my O2, and everything seems fine — but it doesn’t feel fine.
I just want to say — I’m not looking for medical advice. I know that’s not what this space is for. I guess I’m just wondering: has anyone else felt this? Experienced anything like it? Just to know I’m not alone would honestly mean the world right now.
To anyone else going through anxiety or panic disorders — you’re not weak, you’re not broken. You're fighting something invisible and relentless, and that takes serious strength. I see you, and I’ve got nothing but respect.
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