Last week I finally went and got an appointment with a Doctor.
It went better than I had feared. All things being well, very soon I'll be getting some form of counselling/therapy.
I should have done it years ago, really. But that's the joke, isn't it. Not wanting help for often severe anxiety because said anxiety is telling you that you're better off with it or that you're faking it.
I let so many things, so many people pass by because I was too anxious. Sometimes ending up with regret, other times apathy. A lot of things left unsaid, thousands of words typed out only to be deleted. Things that I wanted to say but didn't have the courage to. A few people I wanted to talk to and yet I just stopped.
Even now, it's still hard to just talk, to articulate my thoughts.
Still. Enough obnoxious self-pity. There are people I do talk to. I'm taking small steps against anxiety. A lot of people have shown me their support, some of it unexpected. I'm doing so much better than I was at the start of the year.