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Shut Up Already (Why I hate Supermarkets)
I have this tendency to fool myself into thinking my chronic anxiety is a ruse, something I claim hyperbolically for attention, like someone declaring she has OCD because she prefers a dirty-dish-free sink. When I mention
Massage Muddled
I sat on a plush sofa in a room dimly lit with electric candles and fussed over the gap in my robe with one hand while balancing a mango-papaya mimosa in the other. “I can’t tell
Classic Barb Guy
It was two years ago this month that I sought pharmaceutical assistance for my chronic anxiety. It took awhile to get the dosage right — it was four or five visits before I could talk about