Anxiety

I’m all up in it. Between wondering why I do this performance stuff to myself when I know I have pathological stage fright (always have), and feeling like I’m going to come home to a dead cat, it’s just crazy. Or I should say I get crazy.

But now every little thing is a victory with Hosha. I got her to eat a half teaspoon of clam chowder, victory. I got her to eat 3 tiny pieces of cheese, victory. Every mouthful is a step away from heart failure. I sat with her while she drank a good bit of water. Victory.
Ooh just now, double, special, victory. That regular catfood I've always refused to feed my cat because we're too snooty for that? Well she ate a decent tiny portion just now. Let's hear it for "seafood feast".