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I didn't really feel much of anything, aside from dread and worry over stigma. I basically knew what I was going to get diagnosed with and wasn't surprised by it at all.
It's sorta a feeling of satisfaction that I knew myself well enough to know what my diagnosis would be, and a little bit proud that I learned a lot of coping skills to manage myself before ever seeking help. Also still worry over the stigma, and disappointment that I finally caved and went to get a diagnosis and meds.
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"The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things. Of shoes, of ships, of sealing wax, of cabbages, of kings! Of why the sea is boiling hot, of whether pigs have wings..."
"I have a problem with low self-esteem. Which is really ridiculous when you consider how amazing I am.
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