You've been trying everything. You push yourself to go outside. You volunteer. You show up even when the anxiety is screaming at you to stay home. You're doing all the "right" things.

And yet somehow, when the health anxiety hits, it still spirals. The thoughts come, the fear rises, and then something else kicks in-something that makes it all so much worse.

That familiar voice: I should know better by now. Why am I doing this again?

If you're like most people dealing with anxiety, you probably think that voice is helping. Keeping you accountable. Preventing you from "giving in" to the anxiety. That being harder on yourself is the only alternative to letting anxiety win.

But what if I told you that voice-that self-criticism you deploy the moment anxiety appears-is actually the hidden cause making everything worse?

What Your Response to Anxiety Actually Does

When anxiety strikes, most people assume the anxiety itself is the entire problem. So they focus all their energy on fighting it, rationalizing it away with statistics, or criticizing themselves for having it in the first place.

"I've been through this before. I know it's not real. What's wrong with me?"

Here's what that approach misses: The original anxiety is just the first squeeze. Your response to it is what tightens the constriction.

Think about it like a boa constrictor. The first coil wraps around you-that's the health anxiety, the intrusive thoughts, the physical sensations. Uncomfortable, yes. But survivable.

Then comes the second coil: your frustration about being anxious. Your shame that you're "still dealing with this." Your harsh internal voice saying you should be past this by now. That second coil is what makes it impossible to breathe.

And here's the part that changes everything: that second coil isn't helping you escape the first one. It's making it tighter.

Where That Critical Voice Came From

Where does that harsh internal voice come from?

For many people, it's not originally their voice at all. It's learned.

Maybe when you were young and felt scared or upset, the response you got was dismissive. "You have to remember it's not real." Not validation, not comfort-just a message that your feelings were wrong, inconvenient, something to push away.

So you learned to do exactly that. You internalized the dismissiveness. And now, decades later, when anxiety appears, you dismiss yourself the same way.

The problem? Your brain doesn't distinguish between external criticism and self-criticism. Both activate the exact same threat system.

Why Self-Criticism Activates the Same Alarm

Here's what's happening behind the scenes that most people never see:

Your brain has a threat detection system-an alarm designed to keep you safe. When you experience health anxiety, that alarm is already activated. Your body is in a state of high alert. Cortisol is elevated. Your nervous system is primed for danger.

Now, when you criticize yourself for being anxious-when you think "I'm being ridiculous" or "I should be over this"-neuroscience research shows something remarkable happens: you activate that same threat system again.

It's like having a fire alarm going off, and your response is to pull a second fire alarm.

Self-criticism doesn't calm the threat response. It compounds it. You're now dealing with anxiety about your health AND anxiety about being anxious. The boa constrictor tightens.

But there's another neural circuit available to you. One you probably already use-just not on yourself.

The Skill You Use for Others (But Not Yourself)

Think about the last time you were volunteering and someone else was struggling.

Did you tell them they were being ridiculous? That they should just get over it? That they're weak for having a hard time?

Of course not.

You probably said something understanding. Encouraging. You helped them break down the problem into manageable pieces. You were kind.

That response you gave them? Research on self-compassion shows it activates a completely different neural circuit: the caregiving system.

When you respond to yourself the way you'd respond to someone you're helping, your brain releases oxytocin instead of cortisol. Your threat system calms instead of amplifying. You're activating a different biochemical pathway entirely.

And here's what studies by researchers like Kristin Neff have found: self-compassionate people are actually more motivated to change and more resilient when facing difficulties. Not less. More.

Self-compassion isn't self-pity or making excuses. It's not accepting defeat or "letting anxiety win." It's choosing to activate a neural circuit that works with you instead of against you.

You Already Know This Works

You've noticed that when you're volunteering, you don't beat yourself up for being anxious, right? You might feel the anxiety, but your attention goes to the work, to the people you're helping, to your values.

You're not adding that second coil of self-criticism. And somehow, even with the anxiety present, you manage to do the thing anyway.

That's self-compassion in action. You already know how to do this-you've just been applying it selectively based on an old belief you learned in childhood: that your own feelings don't deserve the same kindness you'd offer others.

Why Fighting Emotions Makes Them Stronger

Studies on emotion regulation reveal something that contradicts what most of us learned: attempting to avoid or suppress internal experiences actually amplifies them.

It's the same principle as physical pain. When you tense up against pain, the tension makes it hurt more. When you relax into it, something shifts.

Emotions, when allowed without resistance, follow a natural wave pattern. They rise, they peak, and then they subside. It's the resistance-the fighting, the criticizing, the "I shouldn't feel this way"-that keeps them activated.

This is called experiential avoidance, and it's the hidden mechanism that keeps anxiety locked in place.

What would happen if, instead of criticizing yourself the moment health anxiety appears, you responded the way you'd respond to someone at your volunteer work?

How to Respond Without Adding Fuel

Here's what that might look like:

Step 1: Notice and name it.
"I'm having health anxiety."

Not "I'm being ridiculous again." Not "What's wrong with me?" Just a simple observation, the way you'd note that it's raining outside.

Step 2: Acknowledge it's difficult.
"This is hard."

Not "I should be past this." Not "I'm so weak." Just the truth: this is a hard experience to have.

Step 3: Ask what you need.
"What do I need right now?"

Maybe you need grounding-to go outside, to touch something textured, to connect with another person. Maybe you need to give yourself permission to feel scared without adding shame to it.

You might not always have a clear answer. That's okay. Sometimes the need is just to be heard-even by yourself.

The One Thing to Try First

If those three steps feel like too much right now, start even smaller.

Just try step one. Once. The next time you notice health anxiety beginning, just notice it and name it: "I'm having health anxiety."

That's it. No judgment about whether it helps or doesn't help. No pressure to do it perfectly or remember it every time.

Whether you remember to do it or forget completely, whether it feels helpful or feels like nothing-none of that makes you a success or failure. It's just data about what works for your particular situation.

This is the same "baby steps" approach that got you to push yourself to go outside and volunteer despite the anxiety. Small, manageable changes. Not overwhelming transformation.

What Removing Self-Criticism Actually Does

When you stop activating your threat system twice-when you stop pouring fuel on the fire-something becomes possible that wasn't possible before.

You're still dealing with the original anxiety. But you're not also dealing with frustration about the anxiety, shame about the anxiety, guilt about the anxiety.

You've removed the second coil. And suddenly, there's room to breathe.

The anxiety might still be there. But without that compounding layer of self-attack, it becomes something you can actually work with instead of something that overwhelms you completely.

You already know how to show up despite anxiety-you do it when you volunteer. You already know how to respond with compassion-you do it for the people you help.

The only thing left is turning those skills inward. Treating yourself like someone worth helping.

Because you are.

What Comes Next

Once you've practiced noticing and naming without self-criticism, a new question emerges: What do you actually do when the emotion feels too big to stay present with? When even compassionate noticing feels impossible?

There's a middle ground between suppression and full acceptance-a way to gradually build your capacity to be with difficult emotions without being overwhelmed by them.

But that's a skill for another time. For now, just practice removing that second coil.

Notice the anxiety. Name it. And see what happens when you don't make yourself wrong for having it.