Anxiety: An update.

As if coming out to my mom about my sexuality wasn’t enough, I’ve had to come out to her about my anxiety. We talked for an hour and she listened intently. I told her everything… just short of… Her. I tried –

“I think I know why…”

She leaned in, “What?”

“I think I know why…”


“…But I think I should wait for my diagnosis. Because they’re professionals.”  I backtracked so fast. I just didn’t want to get Her involved.

As they drove me back downtown – a nice gesture – my dad turned around and said he wanted to talk to me about his experience with anxiety.

My mom had told him and they had trapped me in this car to talk about it. It wasn’t too bad and it made for good bonding, and knowing he empathized with how I felt was nice. The worst thing he could be was dismissive, and he wasn’t it at all. They urged me to get help and offered me full support.

So I have a medical diagnosis appointment with the university on Friday.

I’m seeing Her on Thursday.

To be completely frank, I’m committed to the idea that the closure I’ll get from Thursday will clear everything up. I can fucking diagnose myself. A medical diagnosis for Friday is just a supplementary form of closure. I know what the fuck is wrong with me. I know the problem and the solution… so I’m still in control.



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