My second therapy session was today. She plowed on into my Daddy Issues and asked me questions that I really didn't want to answer.I feel as if I am betraying him by saying he wasn't always the nicest guy. I also felt like a complete jerk by telling her that my family isn't perfect. Oh, horror! Everyone in my family is human, with their own baggage and own reasonings! Will wonders never cease?

A lot of my more weird anxieties are rooted in my childhood (oh my GOD the fact that I am a walking cliche makes me want to stop existing) - like how I get a rush of anxiety sometimes when I open a bottle of fizzy drink (ie pepsipepsipepsi). It brings me right back to Saturday night when I was living with my father and he opened his first beer can of the night. His first of many cans over many weekends. Enough said about that.