I remember earlier in the year I thought I had OCD. It was around the time that Girls aired an episode in which its main character, Hannah, started showing symptoms of the disease. Also around this time, my friend Erik made a speech on OCD and what a person with it looks like. Essentially they would have to do things a specific amount of times or else they would feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

My brain shot back to a scene I remember so clearly about six years ago. I was around ten, and I had become obsessed with counting my actions. All my actions really, walking across a room, drawing perfect circles, but the thing I counted the most was nodding my head. I had to nod my head twelve times. No more, no less. If I didn't, I felt incredibly anxious. I’d aggressively scratch my skin, and become very antsy. I even have a memory of pulling out clumps of hair at one point.

Then I just didn't have to anymore. I stopped counting and feeling anxious and I continued on without excessive tendencies. It wasn't OCD, I am so sure of it. It was probably me just being really anal, but it really seemed like it was in fact OCD. I remember telling my AP World History teacher a watered down version of this story in which he replied that it “sounded like OCD.”

However, when I revisited this period of my life, I started coming up with even more similar situations. I convinced myself I had lymphoma, then a brain tumor, and most recently diabetes.

Why do I do this? Why do I go onto WebMD, look up excessive thirst and start checking things off? It’s probably hypochondria. I’m cautious to associate myself with this just because of the nature of the disease.

It may just seem like I’m overreacting to a little neuroses. That I say I’m a hypochondriac because I feel a little worried when I have a headache. However, one of the main symptoms of hypochondria is being able to manifest even more symptoms of a disease despite not really having it.

So back to when I thought I had lymphoma. My back started to hurt and I started to sweat during the night. At this point, I was positive that it was cancer and I was just browsing WebMD to decide which one. Then I found lymphoma. The biggest symptom seemed to be swollen lymph nodes, which I didn't have. These swollen nodes could really appear anywhere in the body, but swollen nodes of the neck seemed the most scary to me.

Later that day, I started to feel my neck a lot. Specifically under the jaw and under the hairline as WebMD stated I would find them. About two days later they showed up. There was a sick undercurrent of excitement in me. Not because at this point, I was sure I had lymphoma and was starting to eat less and less, but now I had proof!

“Hey I’m pretty sure I have lymphoma.”

“No, you don't.”

“Feel my neck if you don't believe me.”

I went to the doctor and had a blood test, which obviously came back negative. However, that wasn’t nearly enough. I didn't believe him. My parents refused to take me back to the doctor, a different one (“This one doesn't know what he’s doing!”), because the tests already came back negative and it was fine.

Then one day I just got over it. It was gone by the way of OCD. Enough time has gone by that I’ve been able to reflect on it. Why was I so quick to jump to the conclusion that I had lymphoma? What is the reason behind all these hypochondriac tendencies?

I think I have my answer in a one man. He’s horribly neurotic, wears a signature pair of glasses, got involved in a whirlwind tabloid scandal in the 90’s, and is one of the most iconic figures in film. It’s Woody Allen! I think I became (or just believe I am) a hypochondriac because of I aspire to be like Woody Allen.

Now there are definitely aspects of Woody’s life in which I want to avoid: tons and tons of doctors bills, a nation who at one point collectively looked down on my marriage, a lazy eye (those who’ve seen his later-in-life film To Rome With Love will understand what I mean). But Woody is the quintessential New Yorker, or at least the Woody we see on the big screen is. Could my aspiration to live a New York life in the vein of Woody Allen have also inspired my newfound hypochondria?

This may seem like a sensational thought, but when I think about it, why didn't a ten year old me think anything of his glaring OCD symptoms? Sure I didn't know what OCD was at the time, but I surely would have said something feeling the way I did if I had forgone my nodding ritual.

This realization gives a major ongoing debate a whole new weight for me. Is media violence influencing today’s kids, causing them to incite real life violence? If watching a overly-neurotic New Yorker can cause me to manifest a mental disease, I’m sure the oversaturation of blood in Quentin Tarantino films can make a young person feel the need to imitate.

The connection between those two may seem very loose, and it probably is. When I originally sat down to write this, I meant for it to be humorous, or at least slightly droll, musings on what I assume to be hypochondria. As I continued writing, eventually moving into Woody Allen (as the majority of my daily conversations go), I couldn't help see the glaring connection that could be made. But I digress, at risk of sounding preach-y.

Whether it was truly my way of feeling a connection to my idol, or a serious disease, I know my hypochondria isn’t going away anytime soon. I’m still in the “no hope” lull. The time in which I worry about how the chemotherapy will ruin my body, or if I’ll have the nerve to prick my finger on a constant bases; this is the time in which my hypochondria forces itself to the front of my brain and takes hold of everything. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll just forget about it and I won’t worry about any and every potential disease and I won't feel a need to look up the exact location of every ache and pain in my body. But that could just be the brain tumor talking.