Member-only story
I thought I had my anxiety beat. I was wrong.
In my past, I had chronic clinical social anxiety disorder. That is what I would have said a few months ago. That I had, past tense. Now I know better.
Adult life, postponed
When I was in my mid-twenties it was at its worst. There was a time when I didn’t leave my apartment for almost a year. I didn’t have health insurance, so there was nothing I could do to get professional help. And self-help books only can do so much when you have a real medical problem that requires professional treatment.
I applied for and was awarded Disability assistance from the government. My husband (at the time) got me into to see a doctor. Right away, I started taking medication and seeing a therapist.
God is Dog Spelled Backwards
The new medications helped a bit. The therapy did not, at first. What really helped was the puppy a neighbor brought by that needed a home. I needed a friend. Natty Jane (as I named her) became the help that no one else was ever able to be.
