i hate talking to people on the phone to place an order from a restaurant. my dad is making me do it, even if i told him over and over again that i get nervous, and that i still get nervous after talking to them. 

even if my parents know i suffer from mental illness, know i take meds, know i go to therapy, know i go counseling, and it has been like this for years, it's like it's invisible to them. 

at this point i honestly don't feel like eating anymore, not because of pettiness but it feels like hell. thinking about what i'm going to say and how i'm going to say it, about what they might say, or even if they'll pick up or not. 

if you want to help out somebody with anxiety, first understand that it is a mental disorder. a mental illness. it is not a choice. it will not go away. it is with us forever.