I know, I know...worst author EVER!!!! I could give you the excuses that I've been sick with sinus colds and migraines for over a month, or the fact that I just got a new puppy and she's taking up every spare second I have, but I won't. I'll just say it plain and simple: I suck! This chapter, for whatever reason, has been so difficult for me to write. And even after working on it for this long, I'm still not happy with it. But, here's a teaser anyway. It might change as I'm still trying to get the chapter to a point where I actually feel it's acceptable.
Thanks for sticking with me.
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It had taken me three hours to talk myself into getting into my truck and coming to the clinic this morning to get some help. Every time I would approach the front door ready to leave, I chickened out and went back to the living room to do some more research on things I could do myself to help, so that I wouldn’t have to admit how broken I was to anyone else.
But no matter how much research I did or now many ‘self-help’ pages I found, my symptoms checklist didn’t lie. I needed help. Professional help.
It was ultimately the re-reading of Edward’s email four times that got my ass in the truck and my truck to the clinic.
