Some days I find it impossible to leave my home.

I’ll wake up feeling completely fine, but then the time to leave will draw closer.

I’ll catch myself watching the clock. Every minute that goes by I can feel my stomach sink a bit. My heart feels heavy and beats faster.

By the time I need to leave my emotions are in knots. I’m scared. Nervous.

My tummy rumbles and I use the restroom.

I fight with myself about whether I can manage to do this.

Some days I can.

Today was not one of those days.

I called off work, with a lame lie of an excuse because I’m honestly ashamed that I just couldn’t mentally handle being out today.

I sit in my house and will more than likely beat myself up for the rest of the night over my decision.

I’ll resolve to go in and make up the hours tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes I’ll just sleep instead.

I have social anxiety. On certain days the idea of going outr and interacting with other people is honestly my own personal hell.

To make things worse? I work in a call center and literally speak on the phone with strangers all day. Listen to their complaints. Deal with their vitriol when I’m not able to give them what they want.

Its a good job. A well-paying one at that. Theres no reason I shouldn’t be able to do this.

Well, other than the fact I’m constantly holding myself back.

This past year, at the age of 29, I began to seek treatment for the first time. I’m now 30, and February will mark a year of being medicated for the issue. Some days I feel it helps. Truly.

Other days I feel like I’m just broken and wasting my time.