April 3.

 Well, I made it. I survived. With my best boo's by my side -- I breathed my way through it. 

On Monday, I had an appointment with Dr. Gupta and it helped me mentally so much. I felt heard and seen more than I had from anyone else so far. It's like, I knew some of my anxiousness was somewhat normal, but I needed a medical professional to tell me that. In fact, he told me if I woke up and felt like "being a bitch", then I needed to wake up and feel like that. If my friends and family couldn't understand my being moody in this situation and expected me to act like I normally would, then they weren't really my friends and family. And it made sense. I needed someone to tell me that. I walked out of the office that day with a pep in my step, breathing a little lighter. 

The rest of my week went fairly well. Sunday morning rolled around and mom sat me down to say I could stay home. If that's what I needed to do, then that's what I needed to do. I could not go to church or the party. And here's the thing...I did need to stay home from that party. It was not in my best interest to go. But I certainly felt like I had to. You could beat it into my head all you wanted, but it for sure was not happening for me to comprehend it. Not only could I only hear "don't take away the blessing" ringing in my ears, but I knew my coworkers were coming just for this and it would be rude not to go to them. Lastly, how do you start putting yourself first, or even at the same level, as everyone else? No clue. 

So, I went. I breathed. And I came home and hid in my room for four hours. I cried and sat there and watched Gilmore Girls because that was the best thing for me.