It was the summer of 2000, and something was deeply and terribly wrong with my health. One night, my wife lovingly asked, “What do you feel?” I had heavy anxiety and dread. But there was a deeper feeling, harder to describe, and much more raw and visceral. I felt like I just wanted to cry.
Less than a year before, I was 34 and life was great.
I was married with two kids and professionally, I was a successful chiropractor with one of the largest clinics in Pennsylvania. I was in the best shape of my life, weightlifting daily and doing 100-mile bike rides often. Life was good.
Suddenly, without explanation, I feel like a zombie.
I can’t do more than a few bicep curls without feeling wiped out.
Whatever is plaguing me gets worse: anxiety, insomnia, brain fog, panic attacks, nervousness, auditory and chemical sensitivities, mood swings, irritability, irrational anger, severe gastrointestinal disturbances, dizziness, ringing in my ears, and twitching facial muscles.
Soon I can’t sleep through the night, and I become so sound sensitive that I fly into fits of rage over small things like the voices of my kids playing.