You know that feeling when you're just existing, floating along, and then BAM — your body just *betrays* you, like it’s saying, "Surprise, bitch, remember you’re just a meat suit?" And you’re just trying to hold it all together, teaching your zen warrior flows and reminding everyone to breathe through their root chakra, but inside you’re a goddamn mess. So there I was, middle of a sun salutation, and I get this little twinge, right? Like a tiny little rumble in my gut, probably just gas from the lentil soup I had for lunch, but my brain, my stupid, overthinking, stay-at-home-parent-who-used-to-have-a-career brain, it just latches on and goes, "Oh, FUCK. This is it. This is how it ends." And then you spiral, right? You just go straight down the rabbit hole of WebMD and suddenly that little cramp isn't just a cramp, it’s a symptom, and it’s pointing directly to, like, spontaneous organ failure or some rare tropical disease I probably picked up from a dusty yoga mat at the studio. And the kid’s crying in the background, probably wants another snack, and my husband’s like, "Honey, are you okay? You look a little pale," and all I can think is, "No, I am NOT okay, my insides are REVOLTING and you probably won't even notice until I'm just a husk of a human being on the couch." It’s ridiculous, I know, but you can’t stop it. The fear just takes over and it's so *visceral*. So naturally, I cancelled ALL my classes for the week. Called the studio, said I had a "sudden debilitating illness" which, you know, technically true, if you count extreme hypochondria as debilitating. And then I’m on the phone with the doctor's office, practically begging for an appointment, and I'm like, "I need an abdominal scan. Like, yesterday. Multiple ones. Just to be sure." And the receptionist, bless her patient soul, is just like, "Ma'am, we can schedule you for next Tuesday, and we'll start with blood tests." Blood tests? What about the *visual evidence* of my impending doom? Don’t you understand? My liver is probably, like, actively dissolving RIGHT NOW. And now I’m sitting here, 2 AM, scrolling through medical journals I barely understand, drinking lukewarm tea, and I still feel that little phantom twinge, and it's like a constant reminder that I am just… a body. And sometimes you just lose yourself, you know? You’re so busy being Mom, being the yoga instructor, being the person who has it all together, and then this tiny, insignificant thing happens, and suddenly you’re just this terrified animal, completely untethered, and you’re wondering who you even are when you're not performing some kind of role. And the guilt. Oh god, the guilt. For cancelling classes, for worrying my husband, for being so absolutely self-absorbed when there are actual, real problems in the world. But I just can't shake it. And the scans are still days away. And what if it's not just gas? What if it's REALLY not just gas?