An old friend asked me to be in her wedding. I’ve known her since we were 11 years old. I felt an obligation to say yes, so I did. As the wedding loomed closer and closer, I found myself dreading it. I didn’t want to go to the events, pay the fees for this and that, or be part of it at all. I care about her, she’s a good friend, but we’re not as close as we once were. And I didn’t really know anyone else in the wedding party. But the wedding came, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, and it actually wasn’t bad. I had fun. Imagine that.
I’ve recently decided to cut back on my drinking, because I was tired of feeling like shit all the time. Panic and dread the morning after a long night. And by cut back on my drinking, I mean I’ve stopped drinking altogether (for now — don’t hold me to it). I’m trying to be better, about everything. I’ve read more books this year than ever before, I’m eating a lot healthier, going to the doctor more often. And with all of this I’ve decided to seek therapy. I’ve been wanting to for years. I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety for pretty much all of my twenties. It’s time.