Finally, I had an evaluation with a professional to see what was wrong with me. I did not enjoy it.

Maybe, really, I don’t need therapy? Maybe I should just back off before they force me to go to therapy. I feel like I’m on a swinging bridge, first swinging one way, then the other. But help! I don’t know which way to go.

Did it all just vanish? What happened to all the anxiety? Is it gone forever?

Should I go tell my mother that she doesn’t have to worry and I’m fine now? She’ll be so happy.

Everything around me is hazy. I’m stuck in this hurricane of confusion. I can’t bring myself to do anything. Without thinking, my feet take me to bed. I crawl under my blanket and block everything out.

Baruch Hashem, I feel so much better, I think, as my alarm rings. I blink and sit up. The sun glares into my eyes together with the knowledge that I really and truly need help, and I can’t do this on my own.

I’m glad that at least I have my direction clear again.

Then my stomach drops. It’s because I know no one will be able to help me. Probably no one has such crazy thoughts like I do. I bury myself in my blanket. I don’t want to get up, ever.

But then I see Hope. Hope is this lantern glowing in this darkest darkness. It’s telling me that I’ll find a place of light one day. So I get up.