I didn’t realize how deeply a diagnosis could affect me until the doctor told me, “You have PCOS.” I wasn’t afraid to deal with PCOD. I was afraid of what it meant to me: my body, my future, my identity. I felt like something inside me had slipped out of place and I didn’t know how to put it back.
It took me by surprise because I thought I was doing everything right; I woke up at 6 in the morning and slept at 10 at night. I only ate homemade meals. I didn’t drink or smoke. I exercised regularly. So when my gynecologist kept saying, “Take care of your lifestyle,” I didn’t know what else to fix. I thought I already lived a great lifestyle. Meanwhile, my symptoms continued to get stronger. My acne became painful, my periods remained irregular, my anxiety increased, and my confidence disappeared. I tried birth control medications, antibiotics, vitamin supplements, and gallons of water, but nothing made a significant difference. At one point, I gave up on the idea of managing PCOS. That’s when my parents suggested therapy, not because I was falling apart, but because the doctor believed stress played a role.
I entered the psychologist’s room waiting for answers. What I got instead was a question. After listening silently as I described my strictly controlled routine, he asked me, “Have you thought about living without calculating every move?” At that moment I realized that my lifestyle was unhealthy, it was rigid. I had built my life like a calendar. I was afraid of being late, of being left behind, of doing anything that might seem like a failure. And that fear showed up everywhere: in the way I ran to class instead of walking, in how I inhaled my food, in how I panicked when I wasn’t productive, in how I swallowed my emotions because I didn’t want to “waste time.” For the first time the pieces fit together. My body did not rebel. I was overwhelmed.
According to psychotherapist Harleen Bagga, founder of Soul Therapy, uncontrolled stress can trap the body in a constant state of survival. “Women with PCOS often live in a cycle of anxiety,” she explains, where stress makes symptoms worse and symptoms create more stress. “Over time, this affects emotional regulation, sleep, and the nervous system’s ability to feel safe.” So instead of trying harder, I tried it differently. I started to slow down as a general rule. I consciously reduced my walking speed. I let myself lie in bed for ten minutes after waking up instead of rushing into the day. I allowed myself to occasionally stay overnight without feeling guilty. I ate more mindfully, taking time to enjoy meals instead of rushing through them. I reduced sugar and dairy not as a punishment, but as an act of care. I stopped being available to the world before I became available to myself.
