Week One Observation

3/28: The small square room is clean and bright and her voice is calm and reassuring. Yet, I can't stop shaking, my hands are slick with sweat, and I am seconds away from sacrificing my dignity and crying in front of a complete stranger. All because of that clear jar full of tongue depressors that I know she'll use to help diagnose me. Then, for a moment, I feel silly. They're just wooden sticks. What an odd thing to be terrified of.