It's interesting with my blog, because it feels to me less like a blog and more like a forum, because my readers are so funny and leave hysterical comments. And I'm not being humble when I say that very often, the comments are so much better than the post originally was.

[On acupuncture:] The needles are small and won't hurt at all. In fact, they'll feel good. Ha, ha! Just kidding. They feel like needles. Because they are.

There's so much shame involved in not being like everyone else. But I learned that the things that made me unique were good. Dealing with problems can be awful. But in the end I got positive results. I don't think I would have been a writer if I didn't have anxiety.

One ox, two oxen. One fox, two foxen.

One of the most important things I learned is forging a rapport with someone at your insurance company. Know their names. You'll eventually get someone who will tell you, "This is how you do an appeal. This is what you need to say in your letter. " You can also always go to the ER to get whatever you need to tide you over for a few days.

In short? It is exhausting being me. Pretending to be normal is draining and requires amazing amounts of energy and Xanax.

I had no idea how complicated and solitary it could be to write a simple book.