So, I've been diagnosed with social anxiety, and Monday was my first day at a new school. Nice mix, huh? I haven't had a good nights sleep for days, mostly because I'm always worried about what's going to happen tomorrow. In which way will I screw up the next morning/afternoon/evening? I can't seem to calm my mind. I dread going to bed simply because it means I'm one step closer to tomorrow.

On Tuesday, I ended up not going to school at all. I was too tired... too anxious. Of course, my dad was pissed, and when I told him that I wasn't feeling well, he automaticly thought I was faking sickness. I wasn't talking about my physical condition, I was talking about my state of mind and the huge knot of insides twisting in my stomach. I went to my therapist at 5:00. When I told her all this, she seemed to side with me, yet she didn't talk to my dad about it. I wish she did. Maybe he would've listened. I tried to explain it to him, but all he said was, "That's no excuse!"

He woke me up the next morning at 5:30 AM. You wanna know how? He stepped on my ankle, which of course gave me quite a shock. After he left for work, I went back to bed and didn't wake up until my alarm went off at 6:00. I got dressed and grabbed a couple bus tickets. I hate taking the bus. I decided to call my mom and ask her for a ride. She happily accepts and tells me that she'll be there at 7:40. My grandma woke up and asked me why I wasn't outside waiting for the bus. I told her why. She asks in a stern way, "You're going to rely on your mother?" Why not? She has her flaws, but I don't know why everyone acts like she's a monster.

So here I am... it's 7:37 AM.

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