Update

I'm still scared when the phone rings. I don't like answering the door - and I oftentimes don't.

I'm still trying to figure out why. If I knew why, I could fix it.

There are plenty of websites out there saying that we're afraid of what people think of us, but it's just not true. I couldn't care less. I know I think worse of myself than anyone else could. There is zero worry about that.

Being afraid of embarrassment is also common, and a little more accurate. I hate embarrassing myself. I think everyone is. But I don't get embarrassed easily. This is why I thought it was just physical for the longest time. When a teacher calls on me, I just blush. And I think: "Why in the good got dang am I blushing right now? This is so stupid!" My throat closes up, and the pitch of my voice goes up with it. I HATE that! I just want to speak with my manish tone consistently.

That embarrasses me. The fact that I have no control over my body just...mortifies me.

But I care more about how people feel rather than what they think. And it's not just physical. My gabapentin (which I should raise the dose of again) does a bang up job of keeping the physical symptoms down. My voice still gets high sometimes, but it's pretty stable. I don't blush as often, but it happens. However, the anxiety is still there. Or something is. I still strongly prefer being in my apartment. I hate the doorbell and I hate my phone. I only leave the house for food, therapy, or to pick Stephen up.

I'm getting better. I feel better. It's not even possible for me to get as sad as I used to. Sometimes that is frustrating because something upsets or disappoints me and I just can't...feel sad anymore. Just kind of nothing. I also still feel exhausted, unmotivated, and hopeless, but not broken. I'm not sure how to explain, but things are getting better.

I'd talked myself into "trying". I put pills in my mouth, and water, and I didn't care if I died or didn't. I remember deciding that I didn't care if anyone thought I was selfish. I didn't care if anyone got sad. I was way more sad then they'd ever be. I decided that Stephen would be happier, that Joanna would be given to a better mom. I didn't care what happened to me.

Now I don't even feel the need to cut myself. I think: "Why should I hurt myself? I don't deserve that!" Also, I'm losing some weight. Just 3 pounds so far, but I've eaten a lot of junk. And eating doesn't control me. I eat when I want to. I eat when I'm hungry. It's not a tool to feel better anymore.

Things are better, they're just not where I want them to be yet. I want to be happy, not blank. I often worry that I'll relapse. How many times do I have to raise the dosage of my medicine? What will happen when I get pregnant and can't take them anymore?